- like wingbones and secret wishes -

There's a way the wind curls inward, when you're standing on a hill watching it, breathing it in. Like the wind is not one thing, but instead a gathering of wild, gentle strands of earth sighing, tree dreaming, ocean imperatives, rising and flying in company for a while. Sometimes one or two strands will catch on the out-reaching imagination of a girl on a hill, and for a moment the wind will coil at that place, tearing delicately apart, making at once a sound and a silence.

I think sometimes I have snagged on the wind's own imagination. The other day I wrote about how I was trying to design my weblog so that it would show readers, upon first arriving here, my way of thinking and writing. I came up with various ideas that would speak to them. But I forgot my own compulsion for quiet. For I have a fierce god, a storm-souled god, who wants from me that perfect moment when a word becomes wordless, pared down to its truest spirit. (Like Patricia McKillip can write sometimes, you know? Not minimalism, but the precise use of words to reveal their essence.)

As I was being dragged back by the ankle, by the heart, into quiet, I realised something more true than Blog Design Principles : if you don't create what you yourself are drawn to, you won't give the right message about who you really are.

So I'm sorry for the small text. I have eyesight issues too, but anything bigger than this blares at me. And I'm sorry for the simplicity, but this is the space I need so I can look across it into the thunderous eyes of my god - because really, I love you all, but that's who I most want to be talking with. In essential sound, and in silence.

When he's listening, I remember who I am.


  1. Love love love. I know *just* what you mean.

  2. you always have the perfect words...they stop me and make me think. I like when that happens.

  3. I understand completely. One day, I'm in the forest by myself listening and soaking in all the quiet beauty. The quiet side of me. The next, I'm running about creating a silly something with glitter. The noisy side. I understand why. I spent a lot of time in the wilderness with my family as a little girl. And I studied classical music and fine art, which pulls me another direction. People have mentioned that I seem to be different people. And I smile at this comment. It's just me, being me, and I cannot be just one thing.

    Be true to yourself, Sarah. This is the you we wish most to know.

  4. Your words soothe me. Such beautiful poetic descriptions of the wind. I think even when you are trying on different shades of youself, the trueness of your authentic essence shines through.

  5. The changes are not really personal, that's the whole point. They are intellectual, most of the time. I always end up returning to my authenticity.

  6. Your words tie together all the loose ends....

  7. This is the first time I have been to your blog and I think it's beautifully simple. Out there, outside of here many of the sites are noisy and brash and busy and they attack your eyes and your face. I say you're doing it right. I'm glad I came to visit.