transcend, or spring, or the bird who made a sound

It’s not surprising that crabs followed Jean Paul Sartre for years after a bad mescaline trip, a manifestation of his fears of loneliness. Sartre injected mescaline in order to release creativity, and to that, I find it interesting to explore how we can locate creativity under the influence of such substances that allow us to transcend ordinary experience. Simone de Beauvoir (who also participated in various experimentations with drugs) wrote of transcendence, “In truth, all human existence is transcendence and immanence at the same time; to go beyond itself, it must maintain itself; to thrust itself toward the future, it must integrate the past into itself.”

This morning, a single bird. One I hadn’t heard. The rain had stopped. It was early, just past 8. My children were roaming the warm house, eating toast, drinking water, signing onto school. There is something here about home. About each day’s new breath, a sensual experience. And this bird, signaling a treasure for the day, an early spring call I wanted to believe in. My dreams had been stressed and anxious, imagery that flashed open to create sweat and heat on my morning skin, all related to the turmoil of separation, of the ways we try to stay alive with salary and wages. I sit and look at the branch dripping with last night’s torrent, the rose hips crimson. It’s possible to transcend what came the day before, to let it go into the past and know that the beauty of a new day breaks us into the forward individuals that we will become. I’ll buy a cabin in the snow. I’ll write poems at dawn. I’ll drink chocolate by the stove. I’ll be of service to my community. I can do these things. It is value that transcends economic enterprise. An essential and primary becoming.

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