The nightmare's long-gone. Now I can recall it the way I recall any story--trying to define a specific moment, a tone, the feel of it. I can think about the quality of its light. It's odd, our other, inner life, which seems, often, to have a life of its own, deep waters with their own creatures and dramas.

Today the light--in general--is spring but the air is winter--winter's time is done, but it's been here so long that it's not in a hurry to leave.  And because of this,  just now, the tree across the way has the hard whiteness of winter light.  This is the time of these ins and outs, of glancing out into spring, then a moment later, seeing winter.

I have work to do today, cut moldings for a room in which I've just put down an oak floor.  The moldings crowd out the day, narrow it down to a sharp focus--to measuring length and cutting the right angles. Not having done this in a long time, I'll rehearse the whole process to remind myself how to do it.  I'll measure, cut, put the molding in place, see how it fits, then remeasure, re-cut, re-fit.  Each piece a sentence; each vital join-point--which is what it all comes down to, where the angles meet--the transition that has to look seamless, so the eye is not interrupted, so the meaning is complete.

I feel the strong tug to get to work, to get my hands on the wood, the tape measure, the miter saw, to feel their sturdy hardness, their individual shapes, weight, rules, powers, limitations, possibilities. This is a world I collaborate with--to master it means to work with it.  This project began in my head and is materializing in the world--this is, literally, crafting a dream.
Maria Giura
4/3/2013 01:01:59 am

I appreciate the education, and sometimes the reeducation, I'm getting from reading the poem excerpts you include to elucidate your own experiences and musings, in yesterday's case from George Manley Hopkins and Matthew Arnold.

These bare bones journal entires are always getting me to think more deeply.

Enjoy the precision you describe for the work you have in front of you today.

4/3/2013 02:22:46 am

Thoreau: Journal, April 3, 1842

"Experience is in the head and fingers. The heart is inexperienced."


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