This was my Valentine's Gift to JJS today. This connection came to me with perfect clarity by dawn's early light a few weeks ago and the symbolism jolted me. I wanted to make it into a poem, but I don't think I have enough of that stuff that makes poems left in my soul. I miss the feeling of being able to write. So this is the fragmented, watery version of the poem that could have been, but maybe there's something here. Happy. Valentine's Day.
TEACUPS
My old friend told me once that being young and unattached is like sitting in a spinning teacup at that ride at Disneyland. He said we spend our years whirling in circles, propelled from one side of the platform to the other. The company we keep with other riders feels intense, rich with meaning, but everything changes swiftly as the cups twirl far and away from each other, lurching close together again, finally flying apart. “When everything stops,” he wrote me, “who knows where we’ll all be?...I hope I end up somewhere near you.”
I clung to that metaphor like I would have to the sides of my painted teacup. I wanted to keep my heart spinning free away from anything that seemed to be a fetter. Whenever I felt my cup slowing down I would shove off again.
I knew nothing ugly could happen if I could keep the cup from shuddering to a halt. There were so many nightmarish shadowy creatures that might tear me apart if even slowed down. I carried that dense fear with me for years. All I saw, did and tasted taught me that to stay spinning was the only way to be safe, the only way to be free.
I attempted to tie my companions to me, sometimes, but the velocity with which I moved always broke us apart. There were cracks in the cups, and sometimes an aching dizziness.
Imagine this lovely irony; the golden morning in the canyon. The leaves and sun were so bright in a jubilant echo of summer. I felt all the good thoughts I’d ever had bubbling up in me like a spring; I wanted to pour them all out for you and have you look them over. Look me over. Please let me please you. I was anxious my lessthan would show on my face, but my skin and heart felt alive with the sun and the warmth of your goodness. You sliced through the fakery and my real soul sprang out terrified and rejoicing. And you! And you! And you with me! The air around me was teeming with poems and lyrics and hope.
I was hoping. And then you handed me a teacup. And I knew that finally I wanted to stop.
TEACUPS
My old friend told me once that being young and unattached is like sitting in a spinning teacup at that ride at Disneyland. He said we spend our years whirling in circles, propelled from one side of the platform to the other. The company we keep with other riders feels intense, rich with meaning, but everything changes swiftly as the cups twirl far and away from each other, lurching close together again, finally flying apart. “When everything stops,” he wrote me, “who knows where we’ll all be?...I hope I end up somewhere near you.”
I clung to that metaphor like I would have to the sides of my painted teacup. I wanted to keep my heart spinning free away from anything that seemed to be a fetter. Whenever I felt my cup slowing down I would shove off again.
I knew nothing ugly could happen if I could keep the cup from shuddering to a halt. There were so many nightmarish shadowy creatures that might tear me apart if even slowed down. I carried that dense fear with me for years. All I saw, did and tasted taught me that to stay spinning was the only way to be safe, the only way to be free.
I attempted to tie my companions to me, sometimes, but the velocity with which I moved always broke us apart. There were cracks in the cups, and sometimes an aching dizziness.
Imagine this lovely irony; the golden morning in the canyon. The leaves and sun were so bright in a jubilant echo of summer. I felt all the good thoughts I’d ever had bubbling up in me like a spring; I wanted to pour them all out for you and have you look them over. Look me over. Please let me please you. I was anxious my lessthan would show on my face, but my skin and heart felt alive with the sun and the warmth of your goodness. You sliced through the fakery and my real soul sprang out terrified and rejoicing. And you! And you! And you with me! The air around me was teeming with poems and lyrics and hope.
I was hoping. And then you handed me a teacup. And I knew that finally I wanted to stop.
5 comments:
so cute! I miss you hermana!oh btw aldo will be recieving his priesthood at the end of the month!! Horray, hopefully soon we'll be able to be sealed in the temple! Love ya!
Beautifully written. I'd never heard of that metaphor and it is very profound. I am so glad you and J are so very happy. I hope I get a chance to know him further.
Love you Rach.
I'll I have to say is WOW!
Its difficult for me to imagine that you believe you have no poetry in you anymore after reading your beautiful writing. It smacks poetic! It is absolutely brilliant and beautiful. It's one of the sweetest things I've ever read. Thank you so much for trusting me and allowing me to view your beautiful thoughts...I love you with all of my heart. Let me assure you, your lessthan self is merely another part of your fakery that I've seen through...your real self shines like the bright sun breaking majestically through the clouds, reflecting in the watery air after a mountain shower in the andes...and though that seems probably very specific, I will tell you the story sometime...needless to say to those who are reading this, it was the most wondrous thing I've ever seen in this world.
a. you need to blog more
b. i want you to change your link on the side of your blog. I moved addresses.I actually get alot of traffic through you. :)
thelostgloveishappy.blogspot.com
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