— Rainer Maria Rilke
I remember, in the week
of the dogwoods, why sometimes
we give up everything
for beauty, lose our sense
and our senses, as we do now
for these blossoms, sprinkled
like salt through the dark woods.
And like the story of the pheasants
with salt on their tails
to tame them,
look how we are made helpless
by a brief explosion
one week in April.
— Linda Pastan
— Unknown (via black-cigar)
It’s dark because you are trying too hard.
Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly.
Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply.
Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.
I was so preposterously serious in those days, such a humorless little prig.
Lightly, lightly – it’s the best advice ever given me.
When it comes to dying even. Nothing ponderous, or portentous, or emphatic.
No rhetoric, no tremolos,
no self conscious persona putting on its celebrated imitation of Christ or Little Nell.
And of course, no theology, no metaphysics.
Just the fact of dying and the fact of the clear light.
So throw away your baggage and go forward.
There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet,
trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair.
That’s why you must walk so lightly.
Lightly my darling,
on tiptoes and no luggage,
not even a sponge bag,
I wrote about Woody Allen for the Medium, and why it’s important not to separate the art from the artist.
This topic is obviously very complex, and for many is more layered that a single person’s opinion, but that’s all I can offer, so take this for what you will. All I know is that art does not exist in a vacuum—it changes when the context changes—and when it comes to support, we repeatedly owe women more than we give.