The unbearable lightness of being.
Sublime.
They’ve kept the grass uncut here. There’s a paved sidewalk that twists through. From the road it’s hidden. So it must seem as if I’m walking waist deep in the tall grass.
I waved at the lifeguards up on their perches. I asked one if he remembered me. He said, yes how are you? I was the only person besides the guards out there today.
It was magnificent. I thought of the title of Milan Kundera’s book, The Unbearable Lightness of Being. It’s always been so curious to me. The concept. The content of the book escapes my memory at the moment.
What weighs us down, tethers us to the earth, keeps us from floating away?
There’s something terrifying about the sublime. Sublime beauty is one thing. Somehow one’s whole being quickens in the presence of a storm moving in. The light shifts and the green of everything glows. Then the pink and purple clover in the tall grass seems almost neon.
I tried to savor the moment and still hurry on to the beat the rain.
Spinster Life 