Running. A Blossom Rupturing.

~ Live & Learn

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It’s dark, I grope, I grip the wooden arm of the bannister at the top of the stairs. I’m about to take the first step down and here it comes. Not just one morning, every morning.

Must be Mandelstam’s Blossom. It hovers. It hammers. It is now.  It is not. It ruptures and raptures. I try to turn, to turn away to Light. Yet and yet and yet, it pulls me back. A beckoning for what? To what?

55° F. Saturday morning. I’m on the front porch. Rain is spitting Autumn, the season has turned.

Mile 2:
I look down. Gray shirt. Gray shorts.  Gray water bottle.  Gray and Blue shoes. I look up, Gray skies. Synchronicity – cosmic alignment.

Mile 3:
As if it were mind reading, Apple’s playlist cues up Bedingfield’s Unwritten: ”

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Mile 5:
Somewhere ahead an insomniac is doing laundry. He pours Downy April Fresh Fabric Conditioner into his Maytag Washing Machine, and it streams out the vent, into the atmosphere. I inhale April.

I exhale and inhale again – the Downy is blown out, and in rushes Zeke. The scent of the scruffy fur on his neck smothering, the body memories tremble.

The rain comes down in sheets, washing the earth, and the sweat and the tears from those whose footfalls slap on the roadway.

It hovers. It hammers. It is now.  It is not. It ruptures and raptures.

Steps: 12,511. 7.5 miles.

Nap Time.

Posted Inspired by Osip Mandelstam:

What is this dire delight flowering fleeing always earth?
What is being? What is truth?

Blossoms rupture and rapture the air,
All hover and hammer,
Time intensified and time intolerable, sweetness raveling rot.
It is now. It is not.

~ Osip Mandelstam, “And I was Alive” from “Stolen Air“

Notes:

 

 

31 thoughts on “Running. A Blossom Rupturing.”

  8. For me it’s the smell of a salty pretzel or a corn chip….my first Dobe’s feet always smelled like a baking pretzel. To this day, the minute I catch that scent, I am whipped back in time to a beautiful, 90 lb. red Dobe laying by my side for days on end after my surgery, never moving except to see me safely to the bathroom and back to bed again. He was my heart….

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  11. You so beautifully share the depth of your life in the moment…”Today is where your book begins” for some time, it been forming in your experiences.of living, capturing the feelings and thoughts, stringing them like pearls…exposing, gifting… keep being curious, keep gathering, keep sharing and keep being wonderful, you….

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  17. I will never look at rain the same way again, ever!

    Why point to the pain in your heart when you can rip your chest open and hold your heart in the palms of your hands. Wow…
    Beautifully written.

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