I can't sleep…
A butterfly,
pinked by the hour, lands on a blade of sweetgrass,
then flits off.
The blade twitches once, then stills.
~ Ocean Vuong, from his new book titled: “On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous: A Novel” (Penguin Press, June 4, 2019)
Photo Josephine Cardin with “Butterfly” by (via Newthom)
A nothingburger during a nondescript morning commute a month ago.
Not a Vuong nothing Moment that changed everything after it.
But it changed Something.
Why this particular Moment among the billions?
Why is it called up when it is?
And here IT comes again this morning.
This Moment. It’s pulled forward, to the front. Taking its right hand, sweeping aside the incessant swing of the Hammer on the searing molten metal, of not enough, not good enough and Now.
And it’s exactly at this Moment, when the Hammer rests, and Vuong’s luminescence offers its cooling respite.
It whispers listen, pay attention to This. And it hangs around until I do.
The pre-rush hour traffic on I-95 was detoured onto Exit 2. GPS routes me through Port Chester. I pull up to a stop light, and there they are.
Father and Son. Son, maybe 4 years old. Dad is wearing an overcoat, much too heavy for the season. Son looks up to his Dad, Dad bends over and picks him up, hugs him tight, then sets him down.
And they walk. Dad’s lunch box swinging in his left hand, his Son’s hand swinging in his right.
Let’s play it again Vuong. One more time.
The Hammer rests, for this Moment.
Photo Credit
A trio of tulips in an earthenware pot stopped me in the middle of my mind. I had woken abruptly and, still dazed from sleep, mistook the dawn light hitting the petals for the flowers emitting their own luminescence. I crawled to the glowing cups, thinking I was seeing a miracle, my own burning bush. But when I got closer, my head blocked the rays and the tulips turned off. This also means nothing, I know. But some nothings change everything after them.
~ Ocean Vuong, from his new book titled: “On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous: A Novel” (Penguin Press, June 4, 2019)
Notes:
Thursday. Metro North train pulls into Grand Central. The morning calendar is light. I’m in no rush to get across town to the office.
I sit on the train reading Ocean Vuong’s new book: On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous. Justin Torres’ book review: “the book is brilliant in the way it pays attention not to what our thoughts make us feel, but to what our feelings make us think.” And he’s got it exactly right.
I sip it page by page.
The train clears, and I sit alone. Train engines shut down. Air conditioning rests. I sit in silence.
I finish the chapter, with eyes skimming Vuong: “We sidestep ourselves in order to move forward.”
I tuck the iPad into my bag. I pause for another moment to enjoy the quiet.
‘Our feelings make us think…” and I feel just below the surface of the skin, the pull, it tugs, whispering: It’s time, it’s time you get back after it. You had your moment.
‘We sidesteps ourselves…’
I resist the pull for another moment, noting its strength, bordering on a Tsunami. Please, give me another moment. Just one.
I grab my bag and walk.
Instead of 47th, I walk up one block and take 48th street. Mixin’ it up a bit.
Silver Star Spa. Small door for an entrance. Chipped paint. Sketchy. “Best Asian massage in NYC.” I bet. Continue reading “Walking Cross Town. Solvitur ambulando, as they say”
Whatever you want to call your god—should say Yes over and over, in cycles, in spirals, with no other reason but to hear itself exist.
Because love, at its best, repeats itself. Shouldn’t it?
~ Ocean Vuong, from his new book titled: “On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous: A Novel” (Penguin Press, June 4, 2019)
Portrait of Ocean Vuong from Los Angeles Time Book Review