If you travel from Oliver Tambo International Airport, driving home toward Cullinan after a business trip in twilight, at some point if you look right you see a thick patch of Black Wattle just off the road. At that time, almost everything else is dark.
A meditation teacher once told how he saw at one point his mind – the mind – holding on to self pity, as if a choice is made to caress it. I guess it is like a bone or sore tooth. We keep turning back to watch and touch our sadness. Maybe there is some strange beauty inside which appears in songs and paintings. We keep circling back to it.
That time we sat in the evening silence in the face of the mesa and heard the sudden howl of a pack of coyotes, and had a thrill and a dread which was not fear of the pack, for we knew they were harmless. Just what was that dread— what did it relate to? Something ’way back in the race perhaps? We have strange ways of seeing. If we only knew— then we could tell. If we knew what we saw, we could paint it. Henri, Robert. The Art Spirit (p. 30). Basic Books. Kindle Edition.
... But the darkness pulls in everything: shapes and fires, animals and myself, how easily it gathers them! - powers and people - and it is possible a great energy is moving near me. I have faith in nights. Rainer Maria Rile, tr. Robert Bly, in Selected Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke
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