About

Near the rose, in this grove of sun-parched, 
wind-warped madrones
Among the half-dead trees, 
I came upon the true ease of myself, 
As if another person appeared out of the depths of my being,
And I stood outside myself,
Beyond becoming and perishing.
A something wholly other,
As if I swayed out on the wildest wave alive,
And yet was still.
And I rejoiced in being what I was.
Theodore Roethke
I am searching for a way to “st[an]d outside myself,” to “c[o]me upon the true ease of myself,” and to rejoice in being what I am.  When I write, “I sway[] out on the wildest wave alive.” “Still,” in the ocean of my own existence, I “appear [on paper] out of the depths of my being.” I am on this journey with God and good literature as my constant companions.  Together, “beyond becoming and perishing,” I (we?) write– “a something wholly other.”

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