Posts from — January 2006

I’ve been flipping through and skimming, but plan on immersing myself in shortly, The Diary of Frida Kahlo, An Intimate Portrait“. It has text followed by pages and pages from her journal. The translations of each page are found at the back of the book. There are such amazing words and thoughts and sketches in her journals. There was so much pain in her life but also so much passion and love and inspiration. I’ll have more to say after I read more.

Above is “Yo soy la desintegración”, or I am the disintegration. One of my favorites in the book…

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“I like your flavor,” he said, finally getting up the courage to talk to her after months of agony. “Thanks,” she responded, a blush forming on her cheeks. The story starts here.

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I’m watching the gloaming through my window as I sit at my desk wishing I was outside to watch the golden pale sunlight cast beautiful shadows on everything it touches. Sometimes it looks like glitter flickering on leaves and sidewalks and grass. I think it’s the most beautiful time of the day – the time between sunlight and dark – when the light is walking the line and holding hands with the darkness. It possesses a magical quality; short lived and rare – a glow that makes us stop and take notice and be in that moment for as long as the moment will take hold of us.

I wish I could curl up and sleep for a while and I wish that when I woke up everything would be solved, resolved, figured out and answered. My heart hurts and I feel like I don’t have enough to give. Either that or I just give it in all the wrong ways. Things are ending and I want to skip that part and get to the new beginnings. The fun exciting part.

The pit is back with a vengeance. It felt like it would tear me in two when I woke from dreaming this morning. I didn’t remember my dreams. I told myself last night before my eyes closed, remember your dreams tomorrow, they may be trying to tell you something or give you answers. But I don’t remember even a glimpse of one. I wonder if it’s true that our dreams are the parts of us that we choose to ignore during the day – the parts we are too scared to face in waking life. Or are they, as I discussed with someone recently, another us – a sort of parallel us – that lives fully in our “dreamworld”. Are they a parallel us living a whole other life where dragons really exist and we can fly and colors are different? Maybe when we dream it’s just us mingling with them – dipping quickly into their plane or dimension of existence. Do they dream and think of how weird our world seems? How magical our daily existence seems?

Dreams keep us going but what happens when the hope starts to fade and our faith starts to hide in the background? What happens when the mistakes seem more and more than the great moments of goodness.

I’ll just throw the questions to the gloaming and maybe they’ll be answered in the magical darkness of my dreams.

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“…Love is a smoke rais’d with the fume of sighs Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes. What is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall And a preserving sweet.”
-William Shakespeare

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