Imaginal Journal
Imagination is Medicine
Ode to My Socks by Pablo Neruda
Maru Mori brought me
a pair
of socks
which she knitted herself
with her sheepherder’s hands,
two socks as soft
as rabbits.
I slipped my feet
into them
as though into
two
cases
knitted
with threads of
twilight
and goatskin.
Violent socks,
my feet were
two fish made
of wool,
two long sharks
sea-blue, shot
through
by one golden thread,
two immense blackbirds,
two cannons:
my feet
were honored
in this way
by
these
heavenly
socks.
They were
so handsome
for the first time
my feet seemed to me
unacceptable
like two decrepit
firemen, firemen
unworthy
of that woven
fire,
of those glowing
socks.
Nevertheless
I resisted
the sharp temptation
to save them somewhere
as schoolboys
keep
fireflies,
as learned men
collect
sacred texts,
I resisted
the mad impulse
to put them
into a golden
cage
and each day give them
birdseed
and pieces of pink melon.
Like explorers
in the jungle who hand
over the very rare
green deer
to the spit
and eat it
with remorse,
I stretched out
my feet
and pulled on
the magnificent
socks
and then my shoes.
The moral
of my ode is this:
beauty is twice
beauty
and what is good is doubly
good
when it is a matter of two socks
made of wool
in winter.
I Know the Way You Can Get By Hafiz
I know the way you can get
When you have not had a drink of Love:
Your face hardens,
Your sweet muscles cramp.
Children become concerned
About a strange look that appears in your eyes
Which even begins to worry your own mirror
And nose.
Squirrels and birds sense your sadness
And call an important conference in a tall tree.
They decide which secret code to chant
To help your mind and soul.
Even angels fear that brand of madness
That arrays itself against the world
And throws sharp stones and spears into
The innocent
And into one's self.
O I know the way you can get
If you have not been drinking Love:
You might rip apart
Every sentence your friends and teachers say,
Looking for hidden clauses.
You might weigh every word on a scale
Like a dead fish.
You might pull out a ruler to measure
From every angle in your darkness
The beautiful dimensions of a heart you once
Trusted.
I know the way you can get
If you have not had a drink from Love's
Hands.
That is why all the Great Ones speak of
The vital need
To keep remembering God,
So you will come to know and see Him
As being so Playful
And Wanting,
Just Wanting to help.
That is why Hafiz says:
Bring your cup near me.
For all I care about
Is quenching your thirst for freedom!
All a Sane man can ever care about
Is giving Love!
I Heard God Laughing: Renderings of Hafiz by Daniel Ladinsky. Mobius Press, Oakland, CA, pp. 81
Joan Didion: The Center Will Not Hold
I first fell for Joan's writing in college, reading Slouching Towards Bethlehem. I dreamed of having her as an imaginary mentor. Seeing this documentary made me think about the value of writing as an act of self-reflection and self-authority. Though it is tragic to see the painful losses she endured over the arc of her life story, I am reminded of her bold authoring of selfhood.
Sugar for the Pill by Slowdive
There's a buzzard of gulls
They're drumming in the wind
Only lovers alive
Running in the dark
And I rolled away
Said we never wanted much
Just a rollercoast
Our love has never known the way
Sugar for the pill
You know it's just the way things are
Cannot buy the sun
This jealousy will break the whole
Cut across the sky
And move a little closer now
Lying in a bed of greed
You know I had the strangest dream
And I rolled away
Said we never wanted much
Just a rollercoast
Our love has never known the way
Sugar for the pill
You know it's just the way things are
Cannot buy the sun
This jealousy will break the whole
And I rolled away
Said we never wanted much
Just a rollercoast
Our love has never known the way
Sugar for the pill
You know it's just the way things are
Cannot buy the sun
This jealousy will break the whole
Desert Repose
Enjoying the wandering, thrifting, wild cats, boulders, fireside talks, nourishment, sound baths, sky, and landscapes of the desert.