Nor Reason Nor Rhyme

Recently I was asked to put pen to paper, yes, real pen and paper, something I scarcely ever use, and not lift the point for 10 minutes, writing automatically and without stopping.  This is what came out then, and I happened upon it today while tidying my desk.  I hope it speaks to you as it does to me, but if it’s too far from what you expect, just tell me so.

When floating in the stream of consciousness you must not try to swim, must not worry about your straps slipping off, leaving you half naked afloat, far from any known shore.  Instead you surrender, raise both hands, in white gloves if you have them, and let yourself sink down into the muck and mire that nourishes the spirit.  Lilies are we all, white and fragrant, and oh isn’t it springtime that brings this wild longing to be free, to burst from our shells and hives and burrows and run like the sap in the warming sun?  Because running isn’t my way I sit like one of the more reluctant plants in the garden, resisting the warmth, trying to be sure that another foot of snow isn’t lying in wait for me, waiting like a coyote for a cat, to gobble up all that is soft and tender and leave only a faint scent of bones where once life blossomed.  Some flowers are poisonous, and we discover this too late, already intoxicated by their beauty, falling deep under their spell, like the gentlest of witches who come to us as we sleep, soothing our temples as they whisper deathly rhymes in our ears and we awaken in tears, not knowing why.  And we run to the shower to wash away the night and stumble over the rug on the way to the teapot that’s followed us from home to home for lo these 30 years, floating in a stream of memory and impossible to jettison.

And there you have it, a ten minute window into a part of me that has nothing to do with either food, wine, or France.  But on a more regular note:

News From The Mixing Bowl – We Have a Winner! The winner of the absolutely fair and random name-drawing for From Our House To Yours is Melissa.  I’ll be contacting you for shipping information, and my thanks to the rest of you for entering.

Explore posts in the same categories: French Letters Visits America

6 Comments on “Nor Reason Nor Rhyme”

  1. Brother Mark Says:

    Wonderful of you to share this. It is said that the words that come when one does this come from one’s “higher self.” I took a class once where we did this. The instructor simply gave us a “seed” word to stimulate our thoughts, and then we were told not to read it, but to put it away and read it at a later time when we come across it again. It’s amazing what our minds can create when we let it happen. Blessings to you!

  2. Brother Mark Says:

    P.S. I like the photo too!

  3. Nancy Says:

    That’s heavy stuff. I’d try to quote my favorite – that is, most piquant, most delicate, most shuddery, most evocative – parts, but the whole thing would end up in the quote, as surely as trying to capture my favorite part of our river would flood the house.

    Thank you for your bravery.

  4. dana Says:

    i LOVE this. thank you for sharing. it was exactly the kind of thing i’ve been wanting to read… very good for the soul, which, to me, is the epitome of what i love most about france and food. please share more, if you have it…

  5. Price naryka Says:

    Abra, I am curious about the storefront “ABRACADABRA” using your name twice!!!! I hope this is not a patented name—would be perfect for you.


  6. Lori Says:

    Wow – I thought this was so powerful and well written. Really think you should follow this path further.

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