Thursday, October 25, 2012


The spiritual equivalent of altitude sickness: the mix of awe and compassion is too thin for me, and my soul lies gasping on the pebbly ground, while the hemlocks throb against the twilight. If I could just catch my breath –

You might have to go on without me, and pick me up on the way back.

I was given a massage tool when its owner died: a white serpentine in a shallow 'S'-shape, smooth as jade, which warms quickly to the hand. I've never used tools in my practice, but I keep the serpentine on my bedside table, and I toy with it sometimes before I fall asleep: it fits into my hand in various ways, and seems always on the point of conveying something of terrific importance to me. I fell asleep one time, holding it, and hoped it would bring me a dream, but it remained silent. Dreams aren't sent like credit cards. You have to earn them.

I am failing, failing some important test, and I don't even know what it is.


christopher said...

"I am failing, failing some important test, and I don't even know what it is."

That statement startles me. When I was nineteen I knew I was dying and your statement was what I was dying of. Two years later in the midst of continued and basically constant suffering everything changed. I mean everything.

I do not mean to imply your situation is adolescent. I do not think mine was either no matter how old I was then.

Tiel Aisha Ansari said...

alabaster curves
cold stone tongue against warm flesh
white serpent speaking

Dale said...

Thank you Christopher! I do think my situation is adolescent, except that the hope of my growing out of it is dimmer than that :-)

Tiel, how wonderful! Thank you so much. xo

Kristen Burkholder said...

Dale i just discovered your blog and am a loss for words. Your entries are stunning and heartfelt, and as a fellow MT/writer I am so happy to have found your work. Thank you. Really looking forward to reading more.

Dale said...

Kristen, thank you! And welcome.