Poison — which is how the German language sees the gift. But can you point to anything that is not a gift? This begets that. A spring rain is drizzling down and the street trees are beginning to bloom. It’s not too late to look at them. Each day we receive our assignments from what surrounds us. Walking on this side of the street, or crossing over. It’s just the ongoingness of life. Last night I heard a young woman offering very long and intricate sentences, their clauses held out to the audience like pastries. The country she was speaking of is famous for pastries, but I believe this young woman refrained from eating them. Her main pleasures, it seemed to me, were the pleasures of language. Later, at the party, I embarked on a series of social mistakes, and even today I am sipping tea with some chagrin. I forgot who I was in the story.
i love that you read this post with the sounds outside your window! you gave me a beautiful start to my rainy Minneapolis morning. so many turns of phrases are staying with me. thank you! a gift!
I agree! The birds were delightful, reminding me of treetops in Brooklyn that gave me much comfort years ago. Yes, keep recording with the ambient sounds. ❤️
I am felled by the beauty of this. I really feel like weeping. Certain of these sentences I'd like to inscribe into my heart. Whatever you did to create this post, I selfishly hope you will do more of it. "Each day we receive our assignments from what surrounds us . . .Later, at the party, I embarked on a series of social mistakes, and even today I am sipping tea with some chagrin. . . .Sometimes we fail, and the question is just what failing reveals . . .What does the thought “this cannot be happening” mean when we think it? When I think it?"
Thank you for this!! I was drifting down the morning steps wondering why all metaphors seem dead in writing and how then can I talk about the garden? Well, you point gentle ways to do just so. "Each day we receive our assignments from what surrounds us."
Hey Sal, I really like this. Sometimes when I read, I wonder what the author’s voice would be sound like reading the words my voice is reading inside my head…or even, as you do here, out loud. So it was good to hear you read your words. And then go back and read them with your voice still there in the reverberation behind my own as it pushed or wandered to different stresses and inflexions to reflect my internal work in what you wrote and what you said.
And I found the words and thoughts and listening fascinating.
Please explain your first sentence for me: the poison/German gift thing.
“Das Gift” is the German word for poison. The etymology entwines the two concepts, and my experience is that people I met in Germany are very aware of the crisscrossing meanings, so the two concepts are linked.
Of course!! For some reason I got stuck at with geschenk! and then couldn’t think last it…I guess because I got caught up with everything else you were saying in your piece,
It is SO strange. Because I know, or thought I knew (!!!!!) that das gift= poison. And it had just like gone…from my head.
Gift and poison! I google translated because it seemed to bizarre and perfect to be true, but of course it is. I get a moment (or more) of social chagrin hangover whenever I publish anything, and I'd love to lose that. Inspired to just sit with it next time and allow in, draw into, the darkness.
This whole piece felt like a blessing. I loved listening to you read while also scanning the words. Every sentence a gem. “It’s not too late to look at them. Each day we receive our assignments from what surrounds us.” I was stunned by the first sentence there, then here came the next - holy wow. Thank you for this dose of marvelous meditative prose.
i love that you read this post with the sounds outside your window! you gave me a beautiful start to my rainy Minneapolis morning. so many turns of phrases are staying with me. thank you! a gift!
Wonderful to hear, Lucy. Maybe the noisy world can just be a part of it all.
I agree! The birds were delightful, reminding me of treetops in Brooklyn that gave me much comfort years ago. Yes, keep recording with the ambient sounds. ❤️
I am felled by the beauty of this. I really feel like weeping. Certain of these sentences I'd like to inscribe into my heart. Whatever you did to create this post, I selfishly hope you will do more of it. "Each day we receive our assignments from what surrounds us . . .Later, at the party, I embarked on a series of social mistakes, and even today I am sipping tea with some chagrin. . . .Sometimes we fail, and the question is just what failing reveals . . .What does the thought “this cannot be happening” mean when we think it? When I think it?"
Bonnie, you make my heart sing. I don’t know exactly what these are, but yes, I am writing onwards.
Thank you for this!! I was drifting down the morning steps wondering why all metaphors seem dead in writing and how then can I talk about the garden? Well, you point gentle ways to do just so. "Each day we receive our assignments from what surrounds us."
Thank you, Erika. I love the title of your Substack, Semilinear Prose! I had a nice roam around your snakes, gardens, and other experiments just now.
Thanks Sal, for reading my musings. So encouraging to have company!
I really loved hearing your voice here, Sal.
I wish we had been able to see each other when you were in the city. I miss hearing your voice!
Audio—yes! Loved these and hearing you read them.
So good to hear — thank you, Sue!
Wonderful paragraphs, each a self-contained pearl the way you read them. I am quieted.
Tara, thank you!
Hey Sal, I really like this. Sometimes when I read, I wonder what the author’s voice would be sound like reading the words my voice is reading inside my head…or even, as you do here, out loud. So it was good to hear you read your words. And then go back and read them with your voice still there in the reverberation behind my own as it pushed or wandered to different stresses and inflexions to reflect my internal work in what you wrote and what you said.
And I found the words and thoughts and listening fascinating.
Please explain your first sentence for me: the poison/German gift thing.
Great piece.
Hi Nicolas,
“Das Gift” is the German word for poison. The etymology entwines the two concepts, and my experience is that people I met in Germany are very aware of the crisscrossing meanings, so the two concepts are linked.
https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/Gift
Of course!! For some reason I got stuck at with geschenk! and then couldn’t think last it…I guess because I got caught up with everything else you were saying in your piece,
It is SO strange. Because I know, or thought I knew (!!!!!) that das gift= poison. And it had just like gone…from my head.
Words are wonderful and strange, the way they come and go in our heads!
...and how one thinks one has written them and then how they appear on the page.
as in the typos in my reply
but...life is too short to plotz over typos.
Oh we are all typing fast and wild.
& wonderful to hear your reflections on hearing & reading!
Gift and poison! I google translated because it seemed to bizarre and perfect to be true, but of course it is. I get a moment (or more) of social chagrin hangover whenever I publish anything, and I'd love to lose that. Inspired to just sit with it next time and allow in, draw into, the darkness.
May your social chagrin hangovers forever dissipate! (unless, of course, you want to write about them)
I appreciate the anti-cringe blessing!
This whole piece felt like a blessing. I loved listening to you read while also scanning the words. Every sentence a gem. “It’s not too late to look at them. Each day we receive our assignments from what surrounds us.” I was stunned by the first sentence there, then here came the next - holy wow. Thank you for this dose of marvelous meditative prose.
Wow, Julie! Thank you! It means a lot coming from you.