From 11*10*07

The creative life is one lived poised on the outermost point of an ellipse beyond which nothing more exists and behind which is the life as it has been lived and continues--against all reasonable possibility-to be lived. All points within the ellipse are instantaneously accessible, caught dancing on and on in an inconceivable vast and ever expanding frozen moment. To enter into the dance of the life's past laboring under the illusion of a free and open present requires a further burst of creative effort and huge risk--creative in that the living force as it once lived and do the dance on legs that no longer exist--risky in that any untoward faint in the direction of the life's big reality may rip away the mask for all now to see--rip fingers, limbs, flesh from the living being enmeshed in the reeling wheel of the machination of the feigned and fatally to puncture the wall of the ellipses rendering the created creative life undone in spiitual nullity--or even worse, unconcious reintegration into the life of the breathing dead or soon to die. Successful negotiation of the museum of moving bodies smiling in time that once a triumph of the dissembler's art and imparts a sheen to the edge of the life on the edge illuminating not only the entire inner realm of the epanding ellipse but feeling the process.

"Much of a journal's information is lost even to its author. And yet, Didion argues, it is crucial in the way it helps us to reconnect with our former selves. 'I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be,' she writes. 'Whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind's door at 4 A.M. of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends. We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget.'"

Life is funny you know? Who would have thought even last week that I would be right here, right now, thinking these thoughts, experience this day, looking forward to certain things?

I can't wait on some things or people forever. I have to accept what is being offered to me now, even if I have to work at brushing the dirt off. Many golden nuggets are barely shiny. They have to be polished and worked on. The things that appear beautiful are too often fake--a clever natural deception, intent on fooling those who do not look to closely.

And I am looking closely.