Astral

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2020-10-07 at 4:12 am

What do you want me to ask.
Leave me in my dark. Just this one.
Let me see.
Giorgio Caproni, Instance of the same

If sleep is truce, as it is sometimes said, a pure time for the mind to rest and heal, why, when they suddenly wake you, do you feel that they have stolen everything you had? Why is it so sad to be awake at dawn? It strips us of a gift so strange, so deep, it can be remembered only in half-sleep, moments of drowsiness that gild and adorn. The waking mind with dreams, which may well be but broken images of the night’s treasure, a timeless world that has no name or measure and breaks up in the mirrors of the day. Who will you be tonight, in the dark thrall of sleep, when you have slipped across its wall? Jorge Luis Borges

Organic nights

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You are crossing my organic nights
Your love for clarity and our bodies
sweeping uncertain bitumen with
our unfinished shadows
Every morning we breathe the fresh air
We lie our faces upon the soft pillow
The richness of Your beauty is all I see
Every drop of rain is our desire upon our outstretched hands
Each hole is road round open
Each house is beehive
and the fruit upon our lips are the more mature
Our silences deliver the heart like rain, frost, the sun, make clay clay
Our inner duration will never stifle bird songs

Autumn Sonata

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Golden doves Rest on your cheeks.
But your heart is a whirling wind And your blood like my blood rustles
Sweetly By the raspberry bushes.
My thoughts run rings around you, Just ask the night –
No-one can play As I do with your hands,
Build castles as I do With golden fingers,
Fortresses with high towers: Then we play at robbers on the beach.
Splendour fills my being When you arrive.
And when you press me close to you I can see your heart starring.
Your entrails Are scintillating lizards.
You are of a gold, a gold so deep That all lips hold their breath.

Else Lasker-Schüler

Kippur 5781-א

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A smell from which all memory constructs itself.

כְּתַפּ֨וּחַ֙ בַּֽעֲצֵ֣י הַיַּ֔עַר כֵּ֥ן דּוֹדִ֖י בֵּ֣ין הַבָּנִ֑ים בְּצִלּוֹ֙ חִמַּ֣דְתִּי וְיָשַׁ֔בְתִּי וּפִרְי֖וֹ מָת֥וֹק לְחִכִּֽי

Become better

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I want to become tolerant, without neglecting anything: I wish I didn’t persecute anyone, even if everyone persecutes me; become better, without realizing it, become sadder, but willingly live; become more peaceful, be happy in others; not belonging to anyone, grow in everyone ; loving the best, console the worst: hating no more, not even myself.

Elias Canetti, The Clipboard, 1942-1972 (from The Man Province)

Flying over Rocky Mountains

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Flying over the Rocky mountains with a small plane can be intimidating. The mountains are enormous towers of solid rocks, fortunately, it’s possible to cross it over terrain as low as 6000 ft. VFR routes are the fasted way to cross without actually flying over any mountains. This gives you a sense of security knowing that if you have mechanical issues, there is a chance of making a successful landing on the road or valley below, and being rescued quickly.

Flying direct will take some time off of your trip.  If you haven’t flown through the mountains yet, don’t bother going direct.  The half hour of flying time you save to get to the destination will not make up for the entire time you are worrying about your engine quitting and the jagged rocks below.  If you have a Ballistic Chute installed, this worry will not be as high, but survival in the middle of nowhere is still a concern if something does actually go wrong. Engines have been known to fail, no matter how much it cost or who built it.