I chose the house for many reasons.
Because it seemed to have sprouted out of the earth like a tree, so deeply grooved it was within the old garden. It had no cellar and the rooms rested right on the ground. Below the rug, I felt, was the earth. I could take root here, feel at one with the house and the garden, take nourishment from them like plants.
The first thing I did was to have the basin and fountain unearthed and restored. Then it seemed to me that the house came alive. The fountain was gay and sprightly.
I had a sense of preparation for a love to come. Like the extension of canopies, the unrolling of ceremonial carpets, as if I must first create a marvelous world in which to house it, in which to receive adequately this guest of honor.
It is in this mood of preparation that I pass through the house, painting a wall through which stains of humidity show, hanging a lamp where it will throw Balinese shadow plays, draping a bed, placing logs in the fireplace.
Every room is painted a different colour. As if there were one room for every separate mood: lacquer red for vehemence, pale turquoise for reveries, peach color for gentleness, green for repose, grey for work at the typewriter.
Ordinary life does not interest me. I seek only the high moments. I am in accord with the surrealists, searching for the marvelous.
I want to be a writer who reminds others that these moments exist; I want to prove that there is infinite space, infinite meaning, infinite dimension.
How much do you love how she has a clear mission for the kind of writer she wants to be? I think that's a sign of someone who loves what they do for a living -- I'm not sure I could have clearly articulated what I wanted my work to be in previous careers. Can you? I love the idea of figuring out what you want your life's work (or, in the alternative, your life's passion) to do, be, inspire ...
Something to think about, yes?
Later this week, I'm going to be traveling to New Orleans, to speak at the Mom 2.0 Summit. In my regular everyday life, I don't get to read as much as I would like: I usually keep a book in my car to read while I wait in the carpool line to pick Alex up from school; otherwise, however, I read very little. When I travel, however, I try to make up for lost time. Whenever I have to travel somewhere far away, I always try to pick up a new book for the flight. I think Anaïs' diary is going to be the one for this trip. I'm not familiar with any of her work, but the passage above makes me think that I'd find her writing very interesting.
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And now, some business: as determined by Random.org, the winners of my friend Stephanie's book, The Art of Iphoneography, are:
angel, who said: "o gosh - i would soooo love to win this..... i see all these great iPhone photos everywhere but when i use mine i am ALWAYS disappointed."
NancyB, who said: "I find that I almost exclusively use the iPhone camera- not for artistic purposes, but to capture the moment!"
MammyP, who said: "...But what I really love about taking phone pics is the upload to Facebook/Twitter-ability; it makes a real difference for our family as my parents live overseas - it makes that Atlantic Ocean seem like a fishpond and my Mum especially loves being able to get real-time shots of her grandkids on an almost daily basis."
Congratulations, all! Please check your email for a note from me, so you can send me your snail mail addresses.
Image: Daffodils from a friend, photographed with my Nikon D300, 50mm lens. aperture 1.4, shutter speed 1/1600, ISO 200