In My Soul
By Rabia al Basri
Translated by Daniel Ladinsky
In
my soul
there is a temple, a shrine, a mosque, a church
where I kneel.
Prayer should bring us to an altar where no walls or names exist.
Is there not a region of love where the sovereignty is
illumined nothing,
where ecstasy gets poured into itself
and becomes
lost,
where the wing is fully alive
but has no mind or
body?
In
my soul
there is a temple, a shrine, a mosque,
a church
that dissolve, that
dissolve in
God.
--------
Until after September 9th, I suggest that people not hold their breath waiting for any interesting reports of my life. *g* I did chores, wrote Trek articles (Shatner/Nimoy declaring their Trek days may be over, Hertzler/O'Reilly singing with von Trapp family), picked up kids, went to Bar Mitzvah rehearsal, worked on speech, went out to dinner so
Am going to see how well Hercules: The Legendary Journeys holds up to memory, because Deep Discount DVD had the sets at two-seasons-for-$17 -- Xena was nearly twice that! Bah! -- and I ordered four seasons' worth. It is one of my guiltiest feminist confessions that as much as I adore Xena the character, episode for episode I liked HTLJ better than XWP. When Xena was good, she was very, very good, but when her scripts were awful, it was agonizing watching the actresses try to work the material, whereas when HTLJ's scripts were awful, Kevin Sorbo kind of Shatnered his way through them and I ended up smiling. This also explains my lingering affection for Andromeda, and I think one of the reasons it is taking me quite awhile to warm up to SGA is that at times it reminds me of Andromeda; I have finally figured out that the reason I like Weir is not only that she reminds me a little of Ripley in Alien, but also that she reminds me a little of Beka Valentine.
Wow, that was lots more fannishness than I'd intended here. *G* Am all at sea with fandom, whether I need or want a new fandom...not impressed with any of the shenanigans in the various fandoms I see when I look around but I would love to fall in love with a show, the way I did with Doctor Who for the few minutes before I realized what it would mean that I would end up losing the Doctor to whom I was becoming so attached, where the source material alone would sustain my imagination and I wouldn't feel it necessary to stick my head into internet insanity except on very rare occasion. I read somewhere on the net that there's a rumor going around that New Line has finally acquired the rights to The Hobbit, to which I had two simultaneous reactions: one was "Squeeeeee!" and the other was, "Gee, I guess now that Peter Jackson has finished The Lord of the Rings: The Extreme Extended Collector's Cut Edition With Footage of Elijah Wood's Used Toilet Paper, he might have to make another movie for them to justify the amount they're paying him." Part of me wishes I was at all excited about the Limited Editions -- someone will tell me if Aragorn and Faramir in the Houses of Healing make it into the ROTK documentary? Please? Because as much as I might hate myself, I might buy the damn thing just for that. Ohh, I suck.
Reminds me of my days working at AnotherUniverse.com in Manassas, Virginia, where half the cars had Confederate flag bumper stickers and the other half had bumper stickers that said, "You lost. Get over it."
Anyway, son's soccer season starts with a Friday evening practice and whose bright idea that was I don't know, but it means no Shabbat dinner this week with the parents, in all probability. Perhaps shall spend the evening in meditation. *g* Am having lunch with
No comments:
Post a Comment