Monthly Archives: September 2011

Bedtime Pastime : Inspirational Excerpts

An excerpt of Jazz by Toni Morrison
It’s nice when grown people whisper to each other under the covers.
Their ecstasy is more leaf-sigh than bray and the body is the vehicle, not the point.
They reach, grown people, for something beyond, way beyond and way, way down underneath tissue.
They are remembering while they whisper the carnival dolls they won and the Baltimore boats they never sailed on.
The pears they let hang on the limb because if they plucked them, they would be gone from there and who else would see that ripeness if they took it away for themselves?
How could anybody passing by see them and imagine for themselves what the flavor would be like?
Breathing and murmuring under covers both of them have washed and hung out on the line, in a bed they chose together and kept together nevermind one leg was propped on a 1916 dictionary, and the mattress, curved like a preacher’s palm asking for witnesses in His name’s sake, enclosed them each and every night and muffled their whispering, old-time love.
They are under the covers because they don’t have to look at themselves anymore; there is no stud’s eye, no chippie glance to undo them.
They are inward toward the other, bound and joined by carnival dolls and the steamers that sailed from ports they never saw.
That is what is beneath their undercover whispers.
***
From Gift From The Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh

When you love someone, you do not love them all the time, in exactly the same way, from moment to moment.

It is an impossibility. It is even a lie to pretend to. And yet this is exactly what most of us demand.

We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships.

We leap at the flow of the tide and resist in terror its ebb. We are afraid it will never return. We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible, in life as in love, is in growth, in fluidity – in freedom, in the sense that the dancers are free, barely touching as they pass, but partners in the same pattern.

The only real security is not in owning or possessing, not in demanding or expecting, not in hoping, even. Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what was in nostalgia, nor forward to what it might be in dread or anticipation, but living in the present relationship and accepting it as it is now.

Relationships must be like islands, one must accept them for what they are here and now, within their limits – islands, surrounded and interrupted by the sea, and continually visited and abandoned by the tides.
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That is so beautiful. I don’t know how this inspiration found me tonight, but I’ll take it.
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