Douglas & Cassie,
Yes, most definitely -- I went through this same thing. Nothing
was 'just' anything, it was always another thread in the story
I believed was being played out . . . casual remarks by complete
strangers fell on my ears as if they were divine fiat . . . . a bird
sitting on the roof was a sign . . . etc. Perhaps the best way to
describe it is -- I felt the universe was talking about me behind
my back :-) With the accompanying thought that I only had
to piece together what it was *saying* in a coherent fashion.
Coherence is perhaps the key word -- disparate elements
gravitating towards some kind of whole. I believe now that this
'whole' was the Self -- the self trying to make sense of itself.
Extremely strange looking back on it . . . . .
It was all very much centered around poetry though (perhaps
naturally), which I think is what made it managable -- metaphors
becoming other metaphors, meanings being given private
weights . . . .
I was also extremely fortunate to be sharing a flat with Roddy at
the time -- something I'm speechlessly grateful for.
>before you know it you've crossed the desert.<
Yes :-)
Thank you both,
Andy
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
|