Fragile and Crazy

It has been forever since i have written here. Living circumstances have prevented me from having computer access at night, which has generally been my "blog-time."
i have a raging manifesto burning somewhere in my chest, which is almost ready to see the light of day, er web.
Perhaps if i were to begin now it would make its way out, but alas, i have work in 2 hours and must finish cleaning.
It is amazing to me the settling power of cleaning. As though, cleaning out my living space helps to clean out my head/heart/being. The state of my living space very much reflects my inner state, i think.

so, in short, i am a mess.
Ha, ha.

More soon, more soon. i didn't realize how much i enjoyed blogging until i no longer had accessibility. ('The time has come,' the Walrus said, 'To consider buying a laptop.')

I'll leave you with one thought. I have been reading a lot of Kahlil Gibran's writing lately. I read through Sand and Foam, which is a collection of quotes from his writing and is definitely not a one-time read. i have also begun reading The Prophet, which has really been striking a deep chord within me- there is great profundity in simplicity and Kahlil Gibran has so much quiet, inner wisdom. In The Prophet, the enlightened man who is leaving his beloved village and known life, imparts some final wisdom to those he is leaving behind. He addresses the concerns of the crowd- Love, Marriage, Children, Joy and Sorrow, Reason and Passion, Pain, Self-Knowledge, Teaching, Friendship, Pleasure, Beauty, Religion, and Death among others. As you might imagine, this is a very beautiful book.

Of Pain he says:

"Your pain in the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so you must know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility:

For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears."