Monday, June 02, 2008

like rain

we can feel how a storm is coming. we are still those animals, still share every bit of this knowing.

opened the door to the garden, sat in front of it, took off my t-shirt, and let the air, carrying the rain, envelop me, let it come inside and take me, too. who am i to oppose.

oh, the smells. no one knows these smells. we always remember them, but then at the same time they are gone, and now i am sitting here, still smelling them, but i cannot describe them. who can write down a smell. who can write down placing your hand on the warm, breathing skin of someone else’s belly.

one song that accompanied me. November by Azure Ray, and it all was right. how could anything ever be wrong again.

it’s so little. it’s only a storm, only lightning, only thunder, only rain, only wind, only trees. it’s only me. that’s why nothing could ever be more. perhaps i speak in platitudes. i have no real weapons to do battle with what i am not capable of.

i would like the aftermath of a storm to be represented by a single, long, dry cello note.

and i had to think of the phrase “and then it flows through me like rain”. sometimes it is not hard to belong to a movie, especially when it’s real. where else would i ever want to be but here. now. where else. there is no else.

i wondered. could this be what dying feels like.

not the pain, just the letting go.

i looked at the trees in front of me, giving way to whatever may come, dancing like kites that flow so--effortlessly. and every... single... leaf... was so very much exploding with meaning. like it was all me, and i was all. like i am a leaf, over and over again, a part of all this -- because why shouldn’t i be.

why shouldn’t i be.


Anonymous said...

Drijf mee op die geur
Neem ze in je op
Spreid je armen
Voel je kracht
En beleef.

(Had het lied ‘spiegel im spiegel’ opstaan
en liet het weerklinken in de tuin,
samen met de regen, de bliksem, de groene lucht).


Book Mouth Unzips said...

I was watching the storm as well, with Arvo Pärt, on his part, creating a tiny storm in my eardrum. Even when the sun is shining outside he manages to create a bit of rain on the inside. In fact, storm and music share many features, powers even, in my opinion. What I especially like is how both can have you fall down on your knees in a surge of pure gratitude and humility. This is no religious feeling, it has no ecclesiastical meaning whatsoever. It is just a celebration of the senses, of having senses and being able to put them to good use. Makes you think of how religion once shared that same object of devotion, the same feeling of gratitude, until it was corrupted by time. Purity is a myth but it sure is nice to dream about it. And, Peter, taking your shirt off seems like a great start to me. "Ik wil naakt zijn en beginnen" a wise man from a very small country once said.