September 16th, 2007

shake watch of wit

(no subject)

i've been revisiting Kundera's Unbearable Lightness of Being..... those of you who have been reading a while may remember the quotes i incredibly moved i've been by his writing. i'm still blown away...mesmerized by his ability to plant simple words, sow them into sentences and paragraphs, and have them emerge as a beautiful flower that takes your breath away and leaves you longing for the entire garden. he wrote, "the individual composes his life according to the laws of beauty even in times of greatest distress."

beauty for me is so often found in words as easily, if not more so, than in nature. i absorb Kundera. writing previously about my awe for his words, i mentioned that i rarely read fiction. but every time i return to him, i find his writings have so much truth beneath the surface, as if he designs his stories around the truths and philosophies he wants to tell us.

"A novel that does not uncover a hitherto unknown segment of existence is immoral. Knowledge is the novel's only morality."

because i am not a literary escapist, i feel a writer has an obligation to teach - to enlighten with truth covered in words meant to be unraveled. i don't like it when the meaning is obvious.... i read to learn, but i don't want it to be easy....i want to know i can return again and again and find something new.... to share it, discuss it and find new revelations in what others read or hear.

"The brain appears to possess a special area which we might call poetic memory and which records everything that charms or touches us, that makes our lives beautiful."

this is why i turn to words...... and the memories of them that i cherish over time. i remember words shared into late evenings that are deeply in my poetic memory. ben once read russian poetry to me (in russian) over the phone until i fell asleep. he hung on the line listening to my breathing. i read to him shelley and donne and byron. we shared a love of words together and we would dissect the meanings and use them to spin new words. from him, i fell in love with pushkin. i guess what i am saying is places and people push us gently to new words that move into our poetic memories. prague was that way for me. from there, i fell in love with kundera.

just, again, sharing the beauty of words that have touched me so deeply they are not only etched in the poetic memory Kundera writes of, but ingrained now in my life.
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