I could write about a certain symbol being dead, but by what means? I do not believe in turning any living person into a body: a dead, once-living body — even if that body, in its life, seemed deeply unalive, already half-dead, unlike a human being who is, in fact, living, being, existing — breathing in reality, the fact or state of having lived, having died, having already felt half-empty inside while remaining very much alive, but not yet buried.
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As I breathe, I ask you, How? You stand near the door, press your palm against my speech and practice the art of answering the question: How? In what way or manner? By what human means? In any way — however — the space between the speech pressed against your palm is filled with light. What do you see? Dead or alive, day or night, by any human means, the body reflects light, which occupies its speech.
Or, I write into this space, which has come to symbolize something to me. For some time, I found myself unable to write. Or, I wrote, and I knew I was writing. Now, I am writing, and time stops: I form a loop, don’t know what I write, thus I reread and rewrite until a sliver of meaning reveals itself. (I tried to tack on a simile, but you don’t want to read the phrase ‘like a stranger emerging from fog,’ right? Right.)
All of this to say: I began this experiment in documentation with the vision that I would read books, create playlists, list the foods I ate, etc. I never thought this work (this play, really) would move me toward a book: that I would begin drafting a table of contents for something (what thing?) called The Short Sharp Life. I’ll write in the abstract for a few more days. I’ll also incorporate some recommendations and reflections on my time doing yoga in NYC, because this blog is about yoga — in part, after all — a different form of union, which has rewritten and revised my life.
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In conclusion, the past few days have felt surprising and light (surprisingly light?). I feel hopeful about May: sunny nights, question marks, friends and Special America at EPoetry. And I’m grateful that, this summer, I will be able to continue seeing my students, albeit in a new capacity (leading meditation).
The future is, or it may be.