At first it wasn’t clear. No truth. No belongings. There was snow on the trees, rooftops, streets and that gray light you see in old movies set at sea, where ice floes break the boat apart. This to me is the image of the knowable. Ropes and stripes, black and white, and what you look at, looks back. If it’s a dream; or if it’s what is actually seen, then it comes to the same thing: broken language, foreign syntax, the icomprehensible nature of the world. Anyway, I didn’t even want an answer, that’s a fact. All answers are hells. I just wanted to locate the process that underlay the surface image, to put my hand under the top without looking at what I let out. Whatever it was, it didn’t belong to me. That is the nature of the truth.

-Fanny Howe, The Deep North

I’m not sure I agree that all answers are hells. Hell is also not having an answer. Not knowing the reason. Why. Silence. I always want an answer. I need an answer in order to love. But today I realized I have to forgive you.

That is the nature of the truth.

On Monday, a new friend from Rome writes me a letter upon her return. In it she says: “Destiny is a thing.”

Today was a day of magic, good news, signs.

And Jupiter entered my 1st house, finally leaving behind the long exile of the 12th. This only happens every 12 years.

Crossposted with Love Dog.