I've stopped (paused?) believing in magic words. I hope and assume this is a temporary state of affairs, since I can't think of a just-as-good way to live. But for the moment, I've abruptly given up trying to conjure concisely a plan for living, and can only wonder how else it is possible to find calm.
Usually, I only adjust the quantity or part of speech. A mantra seems a good idea, a one-word exhortation (breathe), something simply beautiful (rum, tattle), something to take me away (longboats), or to bring me back (kit, work, poetic - perhaps more on those later). This slides to Dicksinson, e e cummings:
- And hit a World at every plunge, -
- for the leaping greenly spirits of trees -
Or in another language, an anacreontic line:
- Θέλω Θέλω μανηναι -
(to this, I would add: ! )
But right now, these feel a lot like noise (the distinction from sound being subjective, I know at which door to place this).
I'll try to logic it out. So, either:
This noisiness is to push me toward a needed quiet.
I'm in between now, the power of used words exhausted, nothing new yet arrived.
Which leaves me with the risky choice: read, or find time for wordless stillness. And since I have a dissertation to think of (and don't know how to think of wordlessness), I think I'll hazard my health and read some Tsvetaeva.