enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

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Pink clouds

It is SUCH a beautiful day. I mean the most beautiful of beautiful days. Blue sky. Warm but not too warm. Early fall at its best.

In yoga class - upside down, sideways, all around, centring in my balance postures by staring at points in the loft ceiling - I thought about Marco and that one perfect day that we had last September with the Mexican couple.

I have had a few days in my life during which it was as though a voice from someone else, from somewhere else, said, "Enjoy this. This is special."

The other one that springs to mind - and not coincidentally took place in early October - was when I was running down a hill in a 10k race in Toronto in 1999, if you can believe it. It wasn't my best race ever - I was in 3rd place - but I was fast and strong and there were trees all around me and I felt great and...I knew.

Sometimes you just know.

So sitting in yoga and thinking about Marco I was remembering to not think about the future, to not think about the past. I mean this in the sense of trying to hold onto something and make it last, or force something to be that just isn't (or isn't yet). (Don't get the wrong impression from this. I intend not to exert any additional effort with Marco. This means that nothing is likely to happen. If something happened, it would require his effort entirely. And the enormity of that is beyond him. He keeps on hinting in his emails about men "having histories. Problems." I am not pining. I'm just enjoying something that exists only in my memory. Because ultimately no one can take our memories away from us, or make them less.) I mean, I was more or less floating on a sensate sea, but with no desired destination.

There were a few perfect days in there, or rather there have been in my life (it's not over yet :)), in which I was actively present. I think you have to trust your instincts about what is real and allow these things to assert their own shape and import. I mean, if a madeleine can be a madeleine, then surely a perfect day of cycling, eating a leisurely meal with good conversation, etc. etc. ETC. can be a madeleine, don't you think?

Anyhow. I have a madeleine or two - a perfect day or two - and when you think of it that's really all there is. Truth. You know: Truth is beauty and beauty truth. (Not really sure about that - sometimes beauty is entirely void of substance and thereby is, if a truth, an uninteresting one.)There is no more.

Perfect, perfect day.

After yoga C. and I went to the health food store and I bought a basket of the most beautiful things - cashews, organic heirloom tomatoes, leeks for some more potato-leek soup, yogurt-covered raspberries with fresh vanilla, lemon yogurt. Wonderful.

I took out my camera a few times on the way home but it was almost too perfect for a photo.

So...well.

Some days aren't for photos.

But I saw pink clouds last night:

And the sun set through C's windowscreen:

3:30 p.m. - 2009-09-05

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