Memories | Dreams | Reflections
there is an apposite quality to {my} time these days
been reading Jung's quasi-autobiography of that title and a strange if expected familiarity has arisen in the experience
once upon a time there was a student; in her writerly demeanor she reminded me of something in myself
elements are emerging in my dreaming that should
also, she sang in a renowned Chorus, much like i did
what was it that one of my mentees said, over lunch at a Thai restaurant on University Avenue, that time
their names float above me now like a thought bubble or a cloud of witnesses
"to that realm belonged trees, a pool, the swamp, stones and animals, and my father's library" — Memories, Dreams, Reflections, p. 31
the obscure, the arcane, the baroque, the subtle, the fey: these, too, crowd the proscenium of my recently-awakened mind this morning
there was an era when i wandered around Berkeley taking pictures of reflections, whether I was in it or not
mnemosynics is a memory palace in the sky, subject to the minds' weather, and it is seen and unseen all at once, felt and forgotten
"Attention, taken to its highest degree, is the same thing as prayer. It presupposes faith and love. Absolutely unmixed attention is prayer." - Simone Weil, Gravity and Grace
they can certainly pay the keenest and deepest attention; but do they really understand faith, love, prayer, unmixed-ness, self.
[ Overcast and drizzly the other day, but I walked through Golden Gate Park anyway and ended up at Ocean Beach to sit zazen and read a while... ]
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