When I rise up
let me rise up joyful
like a bird
When I fall
let me fall without regret
like a leaf.
And me? What did I want? I could answer that question in the few moments it took me to climb onto the bus, take my seat, and let it carry me to work under the pale light of the afternoon moon. What did I want? Maybe to believe what I had denied for longer than I could remember: that life could be something other than just a series of days and weeks and years to get through. Slog through, with my head down and eyes averted. Instead, it could actually be interesting, rich with possibilities. It could even be mysterious. Very mysterious. It could keep me up all night, thinking. Wondering. Listening. It could make me want to keep tuning around the universal dial, trying to find out what I might hear. What I might encounter. What did I want? There was no doubt about that now. What did I want? I wanted more.
~ Eleanor Lerman, Radiomen
The great waiting played a part. Inside the vastness, plotting. All that, yes. Prolonged, weary, the exasperation. But at dawn the next day, like a slow ostrich straightening itself out, she was waking up. She awoke to the same intact mystery, opening her eyes she was the princess of the intact mystery. As if the factory whistle had already blown, she dressed in a hurry, downed her coffee in one gulp. Opened the front door.
~ Clarice Lispector, “Preciousness.” The Complete Stories
Credits: Image – Thank you Doug at eclecticitylight
She sips her coffee, sets it down, stretches her arms.
This is one of the most singular experiences,
waking on what feels like a good day,
preparing to work but not yet actually embarked.
At this moment there are infinite possibilities, whole hours ahead.
— Michael Cunningham, The Hours