Letter from My 48th Year (Jan 23)
Oh, the best laid plans…
I had planned to bribe myself into working on some poetry admin stuff by telling myself I could watch an episode of Poirot afterwards.
But instead I’ve been slumped on the couch playing word games cause something in the air is aggravating the crap out of my lungs. Which in turn is making me terribly tired, but not sleepy. Sigh…
I did take some time at lunch today to read a bit of May Sarton’s House by the Sea (instead of trolling my personal social media accounts, which is pretty ridiculous since many day job is managing social media accounts so really I should do something not involving social media accounts when I take my break, but anyways…)
Here’s something from today’s reading that’s stuck with me.
The people we love are built into us. Every day I am suddenly aware of something someone taught me long ago—or just yesterday—of some certainty and self-awareness that grew out of conflict with someone I loved enough to try to encompass however painful that effort may have been.
I should say that one of the reasons I periodically reread Sarton’s journals is because I am always newly struck by something in every reading, though I’ve read the same passage at least twenty times before. I love how as I grow older, more unfolds for me, or Sarton unfolds for me in different ways. Isn’t there something someone said along the lines of we can’t step into the same river twice? And isn’t what makes a book beloved? That no matter how many times you revisit it, you still find yourself—who you were but also you’ve become and—if you really pay attention—who you are becoming.