I keep catching glimpses of a new way of being in the world but can’t hold on to the vision. Like a lichen too dry after years of drought to hold onto the rock when the wind comes up. Or like mist that floats through gorges and across mountains and winds up a droplet in the river that cuts the canyon. I search for stasis hoping it’s synonym is peace. But I hold on, fly off, float through, become water that cuts, to nourish the lichen on the rock by the riverside. “To see this is to be made free”.
(“The world is filled, and filled with the Absolute,” Teilhard de Chardin wrote.) “To see this is to be made free”. – Teilhard de Chardin, Annie Dillard, The Writing Life
I loved this prose poem and how apt that the line was from ‘The Writing Life.’ I enjoyed the comparisons throughout, but particularly this one: ‘I search for stasis hoping its synonym is peace.’ This piece had such a strong push/pull feeling to it but ended with hope, which is often what writing feels like to me.