(I thought I try something a little different. This is the beginning of new series called "Thoughts." Last night, I took my laptop out in the night under the full moon and simply typed my thoughts as they came. These posts will be personal and largely unedited. To feel a little of what I felt, the pictures in this series will be from the same moment.)
What is it about wind in the night? The full moon is sliced by the trees still naked from winter. Ghost patterns glow on the lawn.
I remember what it was like many years ago. I used to sit out in the quiet. I used to think like this. Just open, letting the moonlight coax me.
Brush strokes of clouds slip east. The motion is calm. Something about how unformed they are makes me think of the wind too. The trees with new leaves sizzle with its sound. They shake at the sky, but sky ignores them. The few stars are solid. Peaceful.
My thoughts keep going back to my teens. What did I think about then? Were the thoughts so different than now? Probably not. The raw wishes are gone. I know much more. I feel in control of much more. But much is still there, softened maybe, sharpened, but still there.
Funny what the night does to you--the silence, the dark. You seep out and fill the world. The trees speak directly to you. You unfold across the sky. The ancient story in the stars was written just for you.
I hear one spring peeper in the distance. He sounds lonely. All of the others have scattered into the trees, but he remains. Does he know who he's calling? Maybe he's not even calling. Maybe he knows I'm listening.
A hush is wafting down now. The clouds seem to have stopped. The wind is listening to me now. What should I tell it?
I think it already knows.
17 comments:
Powerful, evocative writing at it's purest. Thank you for sharing those moments with us.
Hi Jason,
What a fantastic idea you've had as a writer & how beautiful, your spirit to share this moment with us.
Thank you, my friend.
My thoughts somewhat randomly would read...
what would we do without our memories.
and of how silence must still the ever-beating fire in our hearts from time to time.
otherwise, as writers, we cannot go on.
This is my favourite line, Jason.
Ghost patterns glow on the lawn.
Now, can I steal your pictures? :-)
The night, the sky, the wind - the veil lifts, just a little.
I think about how, when I was a teenager, silence was actually possible.
"...Does he know who he's calling? Maybe he's not even calling. Maybe he knows I'm listening."
This piece was most certainly.. therapeutic . Your words are the wind that blow the May Moon back to your teenage days. An Amazing Read.
Once again I am awed Jason. And a little embarrased, this feels like such a personal moment, I almost feel like a Peeping Tom reading it
Thanks for sharing
As I read the line about 'the moon sliced by the trees still naked from winter', I thought about how we make connections with people through this medium, who are living such different lives, that we would not normally have met.
this was fascinating dude! i'd love to read more of them!
'The raw wishes are gone.'
So is the sting of fresh wounds, huh? Adaptability.
'You unfold across the sky.'
The brushstrokes of clouds connect with your words. I almost wish there was a computer program that just let you write your own cursive script and then print it on the blog screen. I wonder what your print is like.
The spring peeper may be an extension of you, or you of it. Isn't it you who spreads his wings to fly into the night, who 'examines things up close and at a distance'?
I haven't forgotten your earlier comment.
Susan F., when I wrote this, I was afraid it was going to be silly, but when I read it back, I thought the directness had an interesting charm. It really does sound like me.
Susan A., sure, you can steal the picture! :) Thank you for adding your own words, my friend.
Bernita, I like that thought. The veil lifts indeed.
Scott, is silence hard even when you're alone?
Ruchi, thank you for the kind words. :) I'm glad you enjoyed sharing the moment.
Bev, what a high compliment. If you felt a little embarassed, then I truly was as open as I'd hoped.
Verilion, that is absolutely the most amazing thing about all of this. Every day I remind myself what a treasure it is to have this way to reach out and connect.
Angel, I'd be happy to do more. :)
Mermaid, yes, you see much. I do feel like the spring peeper. In fact, as soon as I manage to finish it, I'm going to have an intriguing multimedia poem in that regard. Re my handwriting, I'm afraid its not very tidy unless I try very hard. It is very sharp and angular.
Rather lovely, Jason.
Something happens at night in our garden, not sure what but whenever I try and find out it stops and there's nothing there but the moon.
Addy
"I used to sit out in the quiet." I would climb up into our ancient oak and perch on the biggest limb, slowly lean back and stare at the starry display. The night sky was silent and infinite. I was tiny and the world was enormous.
Your words brought me back to that place, in my parents back yard, when I was no longer a child but not yet grown. When I climbed the tree, hid from the world and invited the silence in. When I had exquisite feelings so intense I thought my heart might burst.
Thank you, Jason.
Addy, you certainly have me intrigued.
Kaycie, what a beautiful moment to share with me. When I had exquisite feelings so intense I thought my heart might burst. I know those same feelings. Hold onto them tightly.
**I've learned that comments have been lost over the weekend. If you left a comment and don't see it, please know that I didn't delete it.**
Great writing, Jason. I love the night sky.
Excellent concept of pairing the photo with the words. It allows us to see what triggered your thought process. At one time I was resistant (Moi? resistant?, lol) to this sort of 'hot-pen' technique but have found that it can yield some pretty spectacular responses that you don't even know you have until you just start writing. I think i'll be enjoying this quite a bit.
I couldn't stop looking at the moon photo.
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