On The Eventual Awakening Of One That Is Not Yet Awake
every two or three weeks, i awake in the
middle of the night—4:10 a.m.—looking out
our weak view windows, thinking of everything
i have yet to give you. and there’s so much
that i am uninterested in passing on. but of
these i am clear: hope, finding the beautiful
in an ordinary rain puddle, the restorative
powers of song and guitar, believing in
what you can create: as Miller said,
finding & following your own criterion of truth.
knowing both seagulls and pigeons to be
playful and fun. slowing down more
often than your familial genus may
predetermine. getting away, getting off
the grid, getting high atop a mountain
others are too busy to climb. be enamored
with your thoughts — with your own genius
in the family of history. and there is plenty
to mention that we should not mention.
but of these i am clear:
commit. promise to
yourself only those
moments that actually
matter.