"I am not one who was born in the custody of wisdom. I am one who is fond of olden times and intense in quest of the sacred knowing of the ancients." Gustave Courbet

01 June 2013

Unglove.

ParkeHarrison, Ruisdael's Clouds Study, 1994
We waste so much energy trying to cover up who we are
When beneath every attitude is the want to be loved
And beneath every anger is a wound to be healed
And beneath every sadness is the fear that there will not be enough time
When we hesitate in being direct we unknowingly slip something on, some added layer of protection
That keeps us from feeling the world
And often that thin covering is the beginning of a loneliness
Which if not put down diminishes our chances for joy
It’s like wearing gloves every time we touch something
And then forgetting we chose to put them on
We complain that nothing feels quite real
In this way our challenge each day is not to get dressed to face the world
But to unglove ourselves
So that the doorknob feels cold
And the car handle feels wet
And the kiss good-bye feels like the lips of another being
Soft and unrepeatable


- Mark Nepa

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