It's been awhile since I've blogged. It seems like so much has happened in the past month or so, but in reality it hasn't been much at all. I finished up the last of my BA and walked across the stage to receive the little roll of paper which symbolized all that I've accomplished over the past few years. And now I'm free. I'm free to choose my next form of incarceration. And to be honest I'm feeling quite uninspired. This is a statement summing my life in general, not merely my educational pursuits. There are high points and lows. There are those times when inspiration flows in and out like dental floss, or those beaming solar flares shooting out and back through the sun's corona. And then there are times when you float like a leaf on a placid pond, without even a ripple. Here I am, waiting for the wind to blow me. I know from whence my inspiration flows. Sometimes he is there like a pillar of fire, and other times he is the faintest whisper. I'm waiting for that sweet breath of air. My sails are empty.
What I do is me
AS kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies dráw fláme;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells Stones ring;
like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves—goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying Whát I do is me: for that I came.
~Gerard Manley Hopkins
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells Stones ring;
like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves—goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying Whát I do is me: for that I came.
~Gerard Manley Hopkins
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