When I Went Away From the World

There’s no doubt I’m a Fan-Boy of Rachel Cusk, the British-Canadian novelist. I’ve read everything she’s published. And would likely dig through her trash to read her innermost, unpublished thoughts. (Now that’s getting creepy.) (And what a coincidence to be reading through the week’s papers to trip into this article with Spouse & #1 Son visiting the Greek Islands.)

Cusk has done it again with “When I Went Away From the World,” an essay in the NY Times Magazine, where she goes away to the Greek Islands on a commission to write an essay about marble.  The entire essay is worth reading but here’s a few nuggets.


…At another time I’m not sure I would have chosen to approach so cold and formal a subject. I tried not to see it as my duty to explain things to people, and nor did I want to become a copy-maker myself, since I was sure marble had been written about already in every conceivable way. I believed that everything could and should be understood by means of self-examination, but my self was tired and discouraged…

…We currently have a poor appetite for living, a result of being force-fed with experiences that have not agreed with us…”

…My addiction to incessant moving, bequeathed to me by my restless, discontented parents, had started to appear to me not as a matter for reconciliation and recovery, nor even as a panorama of losses, but as the steady accretion of some much greater entity, a dark growth inside me to which I had never been and would never be reconciled. Whatever it was — a debt or a disease or a fault line — this entity seemed to have arisen out of a fundamental disjuncture between appearance and reality that, I increasingly saw, had been allowed to eat out the heart of my life. I had made one home after another as a ship might frantically try to weigh its anchor in a storm — yet what was this storm that I alone was embroiled in?…

“…Marble, the metamorphic rock, embodied for me a dark paradox: It is change that produces changelessness. I had begun to read about the process of its formation, its subjection over epochal time to unrelenting heat and pressure where it lay buried in the earth, until finally the stone generated a response, recrystallizing and becoming more durable. An alteration of character occurred, a metamorphosis that was a reaction to extremes. A result was a loss of fallibility, of weakness. One might almost have said that the rock’s sufferings, its experience, had brought about its immortality. It was tempting to translate this notion into a metaphor for human development, except that the hardening of age felt so much like a move into powerlessness. With the feeling of increasing and unavoidable stasis, the power of change receded, to be replaced by a sort of helplessness before the facts. At a certain point the past becomes larger than the future, and its inalterability perhaps comes as a shock, because to be embroiled in living, in formation, is to forget the hard outcome of reality…”

“In the bars and cafes, groups of red-faced men and women sat drinking beer in the fierce sun. Smartly dressed young couples consulted one another across their tables in murmurs or sat in silence, looking at their phones. Older couples, sated with knowledge, surveyed their surroundings as though some challenge from outside to their choices and decisions might present itself at any moment. Flocks of shrieking delirious teenagers moved hilariously from one place to another, settling and then taking off again into the distance. The threads of association were almost visible, a net in the blue air, the way humans related to one another and clung to that relation or were fettered by it, their belief in themselves and one another, how hard it was in that state to remember that you could be dispassionately observed, that your world could be swept away in an instant. Their happiness was faintly astonishing…


Portrait by Laura Pannack, Time Magazine.

Saturday


Source: Marina VernicosSani Beach Holiday Resort, Greece

Miracle. All of it.


Notes:

Let Go Ios!


Road Trip! When does the bus leave?


Music: Just Breathe by TélépopmusikJust breathe. another day. Another day, just believe.

Take me there…

 

Now. Summer 2014. June 21. 6:51 a.m. EDT.

greece-summer-beach-vacation-bliss

It’s a memory I’ve hoarded for twenty-odd years
and still claim in moments of déjà vu when time stops,
its seed case cracks open, as a storm cracks open,

a whole summer happens in one hour, and I know again
what Plato’s paradise of souls awaiting rebirth is made of:

birdsong, thunder, green, cicadas, and heat.

— Margaret Holley, from “Walking Through the Horizon


Credits:

 


T.G.I.F.: It’s been a long week

art, painting, woman,tired,exhausted, fatigue, Giorgos Rorris

 


Painting by Giorgos Rorris from Journal Of a Nobody.  Giorgos Rorris was born at Kosmas, Arcadia Kinourias, Greece in 1963. In 2001 he was honoured by the Academy of Athens with the prize for “Young Painter less than 40 years of age”. In 2006 he was honoured by the “Alexandros S. Onassis” Foundation for his artistic work. His paintings form part of public and private collections. See more of his work here.


O Tharraleos

 

Road Trip. Who’s in?

Balos Bay, Gramvousa, Crete ,Greece

Balos Bay, Gramvousa, Crete,Greece


Source: HungarianSoul

Serenity on Sunday with Marina…


Marina Kanavaki has been a gracious blog follower from the early days of my journey.  Not sure how we connected but I’m happy we did.  Marina was born in Athens, Greece.  She studied art and music in Athens and London including Classical piano, jazz improvisation and classical singing.  She is now a creative art director.  She has had her work shown in Smith΄s Gallery (London) and painting exhibitions in Epohes gallery, in Athens.


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Day, you have gone…

greece nighttime picture

Day, you have gone
and done it again.

Joe Brainard

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Quote: Thank you crashinglybeautiful.

Photo of Cape of Sounio, Greece via wasbella102

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