THE EYE OF THE HURRICANE Mallorca, facing the sea.
A fierce wind whistles through the crevices of windows and doors. Outside, fishing boats rise and tilt and dip again beneath sinuous blue-grey swells. The wind sweeps everything in its way swerving, lifting, brushing over invisible streams. There is a violent restraint to the power I witness. Quiescence and also longing arise as a search for wordless answers to impossible questions. Undecipherable whisperings surface as sighs in the silence in between. The sounds, smells, sights, sensations and feelings remind me of childhood and Caribbean summer cyclones. Strange how time stands still in the eye of the hurricane.
I know without knowing, all is the same. Impermanent and permanent. Everything coincides: inner-outer, summer-winter, past present, East-West. Memories and possibilities loom before the mind’s eye. to remember vows taken and promises broken, yearnings in youth and acknowledgments in maturity, the irrelevance of desire, and the voracity of the soul yearning for itself. It is not the faces of people or the shadow of events but rather the feelings that produced them that remain, like the foamy […]