Sitting at my desk this afternoon in Midtown, checking in for my flight to NM tomorrow, prepping my design notes on Hansel and Gretel, Getting a script together for my trip so I can cut A Midsummer Night’s Dream, talking to folks in the US, Sweden and Netherlands about drömseminarium, &, of course, I find myself in the wilderness. Sitting at my desk, but in the wild.
Can’t help but think of Tomas.
And then I found this.
On the way there a couple of startled wings fluttered, and that was all. One goes there alone. It is a lofty building made entirely of open spaces, a building which sways all the time, but is never able to fall. The sun, changed into a thousand suns, drifts in through the open slivers. And an inverse law of gravity takes hold in the play of light: this house floats anchored in the sky, and what falls falls upward. It makes you turn around. In the woods it is all right to grieve. It’s all right to see the old truths, which we usually keep packed away in the luggage. My roles down there in the deep places fly up, hang like dried skulls in an ancestor hut on a remote Melanesian island. A childlike light around the terrifying trophies. Woods are mild that way.
(trans. Robert Bly)
Just had to share.
See you when I come out of the woods in a few weeks.