Hello beautiful people!
It’s been a long, LONG time I know. A lot has happened, a lot has changed, and suddenly we are into a new year. New year, new me, blah blah blah right? Except this time it actually is!
I am currently sat at a writer’s retreat in a rural part of France. I have just entered into a whole new part of my life, and quite honestly I am so bloody excited! I am here for six weeks to write, read, and figure out what the hell I’m doing.
I’m sure I’ll be sharing my discoveries with you every now and again (I hope).
I hope you are all well, I hope the New Year brings with it only the finest and most beautiful of things, and I hope to see you as we contiue our journeys, wherever they may lead!
Love and light,
P.S. I have just come across Kahlil Gibran’s work: The Madman. I can’t recommend it enough, the link for it is here: http://www-personal.umich.edu/~jrcole/gibran/madman/madman.htm
I’ll leave you with one of the first that I read:
My friend, I am not what I seem. Seeming is but a garment I wear — a care-woven garment that protects me from thy questionings and thee from my negligence.
The “I” in me, my friend, dwells in the house of silence, and therein it shall remain for ever more, unperceived, unapproachable.
I would not have thee believe in what I say nor trust in what I do — for my words are naught but thy own thoughts in sound and my deeds thy own hopes in action.
When thou sayest, “The wind bloweth eastward,” I say, “Aye, it doth blow eastward”; for I would not have thee know that my mind doth not dwell upon the wind but upon the sea.
Thou canst not understand my seafaring thoughts, nor would I have thee understand. I would be at sea alone.
When it is day with thee, my friend, it is night with me; yet even then I speak of the noontide that dances upon the hills and of the purple shadow that steals its way across the valley; for thou canst not hear the songs of my darkness nor see my wings beating against the stars — and I fain would not have thee hear or see. I would be with night alone.
When thou ascendest to thy Heaven I descend to my Hell — even then thou callest to me across the unbridgeable gulf, “My companion, my comrade,” and I call back to thee, “My comrade, my companion” — for I would not have thee see my Hell. The flame would burn thy eyesight and the smoke would crowd thy nostrils. And I love my Hell too well to have thee visit it. I would be in Hell alone.
Thou lovest Truth and Beauty and Righteousness; and I for thy sake say it is well and seemly to love these things. But in my heart I laugh at thy love. Yet I would not have thee see my laughter. I would laugh alone.
My friend, thou art good and cautious and wise; nay, thou art perfect — and I, too, speak with thee wisely and cautiously. And yet I am mad. But I mask my madness. I would be mad alone.
My friend, thou art not my friend, but how shall I make thee understand? My path is not thy path, yet together we walk, hand in hand.