Color

I like those slow-release shots a lot. It's in the middle of a big city, at dusk, all the cars driving home, lights just turning on, sun still proceeding toward the earth - your eyes miss the disproportionate shadows because they're tracing lines of brilliant color.

"Plainly a bird-butterfly, it flew with a certain swallowy double. Its wings were very large, nearly square, and flashed all the colours of the rainbow. Wondering at their splendour, I became so absorbed in their beauty that i stumbled over a low rock, and lay stunned. When I came to myself, the creature was hovering over my head, radiating the whole chord of light, with multitudinous gradations and some kinds of colour I had never before seen. ...unable to take my eyes off the shining thing to look at my steps ... I sat down to watch the little glory ... To my unspeakable delight, it began to sink toward me ... I felt as if the treasure of the universe were giving itself to me."
(Lilith, 47)

I love color in-and-of-itself. It's usually on something, a "secondary property." Think: what if it's not the color that's there, but the eyes (at least, heart and mind's eyes) seeing it that give it certain color? All these situations here are deeply colored, shaded, hued by the one experiencing. What color are you seeing?

People who listen to Des Moines "Light" radio. I think they use barely perceptible, pale shades.

I have a lot of drastic moods right now. Mascara is all over my hands - I wouldn't have worn it, but I had an interview this morning. A couple nights ago, I was absolutely high (?) on Ghandi, enthralled with his campaign to make peace with his soul, wanted to jump to it then and there in the wee morning hours. The day before I had been uncontrollable, in the opposite direction.

The emotions of this period of my life are coming with less deep stirring than I remember having had. It's like the cry or laugh or thrill just wells up out of zero, - when I expected a normal day, my body expected something else -

At Capernwray when we were getting on a bus once, my friend C. impressed me telling me how he sometimes viewed the happy oblivious people. One or several of them might not come back. This is reality. But so is the butterfly.


Meanings:
Light - insignificant, chitter-chatter
Light - weightless
Light - of the world
Grave - open-mouth, daisy-toothed, consuming the dead
Grave - somber gravity
Grave - -9.81
and further?