Push of Nothing Today

The Storms have spent their fury- the thunderstorm is over- Job has been censured before the face of humankind- the Lord and Job have come to an understanding… Job is blessed and has received everything¬†double. -This is called a repetition.

Kierkegaard. Repetition.

Paul,

All of nature groans, in birth, in shalom. It surrounds me. Vibrancy, shuttering, nature breathes like flesh deep in the lungs. The branches of life peel around square and round objects, the branches sit with oxygen filled blood. These shapes are the bumps of the flesh, the features that haphazard their way to the surface. In the face of nature I see Job, I see the storm of nature threatening, opening, widening its mouth like the Whale in Jonah.

Paul, I am- now, finally mobile. I’m in a bus as I write, it is a deep pleasure, surrounded by human beings. I can feel their very differences, some sick some healthy, some cheery others morose. I can just about touch it in the steam on the window. You must be thinking, fearing for me, as you of all people know my health might go at anytime. That this is insanity, it is insane to risk so much so trivially.

Everything’s changed, though, nothing seems the same. These last few days, o my, let me try to explain. I woke this one morning, and I felt it. I felt empty, I felt my teeth widen, my body flatten, my mind close. Everything closed. I touched everything without expectation, no resistance, nothing pushing back. My room became new, a foreign room, a place I was indifferent. I could feel nature, nature as if it had finally broken down the walls of my castle, no knight, no shinning armor remained.

Job will you protect me? And the darkest part, was the inexpressible feeling of not missing the knights I thought would save me. No no, I couldn’t even remember their significance, it’s as if they had been erased from memory. Or as if they had never left, o, and never served to protect me as I wished. They could have been trees, bushes, shrubs, whatever, it made no difference.

But nature is here, I am forever surrounded by its lazy dripping ways, I remembered. This nature, this almost fate, with a capital F. How it is almost willing my return, as if it is calling me behind the bush. Sssh, I hear it whisper, ssssh very quietly. Air upon air, I wonder what that would feel like, is that like nature’s call? How the emptiness of nature does not fight its opposite, so it fights my emptiness. Job is that you?

Well, that was only a few days ago. Nothing has changed. I am in a bus headed to the desert. I want to see the night’s sky one more time, unblemished by city lights, unpainted with creativity. So much for the thought, that because of my health, I would never touch heat, sand, and dry air again. Perhaps, of course, I wont. We are still driving, of course. But, either way, it is no matter. I know at the very least I will soon be laying in some warm sand painted in the sun.

Forever thinking of you,

~Your affectionate one

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About Rene Diebenkorn

Lifetime Artist. ETC.

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