Rachel, Rachel...
Sep. 25th, 2008 05:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mayamaiaI went for a longish walk with Rachel to clear my head. On the way we went to the Carmelite monastery and walked among the olive trees.
"The ground's so soft - I don't think I've ever been on such soft ground." (Under trees anyway.)
"Maybe they do it because it's holy ground?"
"If it's holy ground, maybe we should take off our shoes. I should take off my shoes. I really should take off my shoes!"
Rachel makes me happy, because she lets me feel these things aren't so weird. (After all, she does them too. And more.) My feet sank in the soil like in sand, but it felt nicer. She took pictures of me because she likes to have people in her pictures. And we talked a lot.
"You know, this may be one of the few places around here that has no connection to Jeff. Except now it will, because I was talking about him."
"No it doesn't! It's holy ground, it doesn't count! It's like nothing - but not."
"Like confession?"
"Like confession! It doesn't count! It's just - itself. The grove."
I imagine, from her words, the trees sort of swallowing up whatever is said under them - cleaning the air of it's impurities and the thoughts of their uncertainties. It's a nice idea.
We also talked about her and Jim and about a few fairytales - I told her how the two version of East of the Sun, West of the Moon are different. We speculated on whether they were written by men to keep their women from questioning them or women who mourned the mistakes that made them lose their men.
It was a good walk.
Also, I seem to have gotten chocolate on my shirt. How sloppy.
"The ground's so soft - I don't think I've ever been on such soft ground." (Under trees anyway.)
"Maybe they do it because it's holy ground?"
"If it's holy ground, maybe we should take off our shoes. I should take off my shoes. I really should take off my shoes!"
Rachel makes me happy, because she lets me feel these things aren't so weird. (After all, she does them too. And more.) My feet sank in the soil like in sand, but it felt nicer. She took pictures of me because she likes to have people in her pictures. And we talked a lot.
"You know, this may be one of the few places around here that has no connection to Jeff. Except now it will, because I was talking about him."
"No it doesn't! It's holy ground, it doesn't count! It's like nothing - but not."
"Like confession?"
"Like confession! It doesn't count! It's just - itself. The grove."
I imagine, from her words, the trees sort of swallowing up whatever is said under them - cleaning the air of it's impurities and the thoughts of their uncertainties. It's a nice idea.
We also talked about her and Jim and about a few fairytales - I told her how the two version of East of the Sun, West of the Moon are different. We speculated on whether they were written by men to keep their women from questioning them or women who mourned the mistakes that made them lose their men.
It was a good walk.
Also, I seem to have gotten chocolate on my shirt. How sloppy.
