January 11, 2007

welcome new life

mapping out time in space; nostalgia for the future.

palindromic preludes find their resolution at the end of 2006. beginning with a hope for a bright future, it turned into a downward slide from which i'm not entirely recovered -- but almost. the most painful (emotional and physical) events of my small life happened this year, making me familiar with a kind of concentrated solitude. saved by the love of the closest of my dear friends, my family ... i never believed such generosity existed -- and yet, how could i have expected any less from you? i'm grateful for your love.

the last ten months, i lost words for the state i've occupied -- some kind of anguish shrouded in laughter. it was the most traumatic year i have ever experienced, and it was also the richest. for ten days in march, i believed it was my time to fly away. at those moments, truth never eludes you -- life precludes death. at 23, i wanted to keep living. i want to live. (and that was her fate!)

an upside-down bell was this year, or rather, it was time dripping like catenary arches -- rusted gravity, reminding the sky, the opposite is also true. to have one is to have the other.

if 2005 was a plodding rose haze with a backdrop of concrete exhuberance, 2006 was punctuated by colors and irrational patterns so intense, no order could possibly be made of them; their consequence is a constant state of forgetting -- even the most joyous events can be shred into milliseconds, flashes so strong, i ache to remember as much as i ache to forget. i suspect forms and metaphors will emerge in the years to come ... well, i know they will, they'll come -- and, that's the sunny side of this story.

so here we are, creating a new world from irascible histories, teaching ourselves all over again what we knew when we were children -- a rememberance of miracles: they are by somebody who can love and who shall be continually reborn, a human being ... the things we ought to remember: turning corners in a new city within our own tiny rooms, drawing hopes from a few letters and painted paper creatures, the enduring hum of a sewing machine, half-glances and soft trembling voices, tears and plaids and felts and my mother's dumplings. we made it the same backwards and forwards, spinning between what's there and what isn't; i grabbed your hand, we made it.

what happens when your imagined world steps out of abstraction? sketches form souls.



Anonymous said...

What is the saying, ah yes.

"To live is to fight."

And you know me, being a lover and not a fighter and all, you know how I would amend that quote.

To 2007 and beyond. Glad to have you here.

jean said...

thank you jimmy; i'm glad to have you here, too :)