††
conversions of looking

To Music

Music: breathing of statues. Perhaps:
silence of paintings. You, language where all language
ends. You, time
standing vertically on the motion of mortal hearts.

Feelings for whom? O you the transformation
of feelings into what? - : into audible landscape.
You stranger: music. You, heart-space
grown out of us. The deepest space in us,
which, rising above us, forces its way out, -
holy departure:
when the innermost point in us stands
outside, as the most practiced distance, as the other
side of the air:
pure,
boundless,
no longer habitable.

- Rainer Maria Rilke

"Love is an impulse which springs from the most profound depths of our beings, and upon reaching the visible surface of life carries with it an alluvium of shells and seaweed from the inner abyss. A skilled naturalist, by filing these materials, can reconstruct the oceanic depths from which they have been uprooted."

- José Ortega y Gasset

A la recherche du temps perdu.

“No writing on the solitary, meditative dimensions of life can say anything that has not already been said better by the wind in the pine trees.”

—Thomas Merton

Your first-person experience is a multispecies effort.

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