There is something about speed that is addictive. It is difficult to escape. It is more difficult if it is faster. It is not at all simple. He has to have it so fast. There is no time to slow down and see what is going on around. It is not at all simple but it has been simplified. He has to have it so fast and to be straight to the end. There is no time for the pleasure of the process. Fulfilling his presence in the world. It has to be so fast. It is a thing I share and have to slow down always to see it.
Familiarity breeds contempt. Repetition breeds boredom?
The gardeners who matter for the slow ones to trust themselves. There were two others who had telephoned to arrange a visit. And then they arrived. One of them I have always for some reason not really liked but been prepared to tolerate. It is perhaps less so now but I have been influenced by others and really she does not or should not touch me. And the other I have always found rather quiet and was not too sure but rather liked him. This was the first time he had bought anything from me. It was the parochial way they looked over a batch of plants. They were neither of them to me interested in the plants. They do not care for the plants not for the damage they do in inspecting them all and comparing faults. They do not ask an opinion, they want their own validated. And finally they pick out one from any that have little between them. They don't pay in care for the damage they do in the plants or in my mind and I am closed for them. There is no pleasure to me at all to be in their company under any circumstances. Finally they pick out one plant. And they're quite sure there is none not only better but no other that even compares in the smallest part with theirs. From a batch of so similar. And then they start to guard it. A hand in front shields it from any breeze. Every irregular piece of gravel is removed. The faded leaves are cut off, the others arranged in neat lines. Out into the distance the poor plants passes wrapped in cotton wool. I am saddened that I have met them. I am saddened that they really only want to reduce me. I am saddened that I no longer care for the plant. I am saddened by the cruelty of its new owners. And in two weeks they will be displaying it is a mark of their ability. That is what it is about committees I can do without. Walls. Standing there.
With quiet footsteps into place. It seems that words are important after all. Speaking directly from the heart to the heart of others.
When it is good to be potting it is very good to be potting. There are sounds all around. So precisely is the wren painted that I can hear his song, and then he flies away to show me.
There were things in me there were made superficial secondly over the weekend. That is what it is to be impressionable. One who had great force of presence was not at all concerned. The dance yesterday was a dance of categorisation. It was a way to put me into a slot again. And in part I fell for it. I fell for it fighting and stood on ground I had chosen for me. I had been dragged by myself opinion on to ground there was not of me and into contention by that. That is my weakness to be so but that is how it happens. While it was accidental in me to be allowed so still it was not unprepared accidentally. Be prepared is to prepare the accident to happen. So it was of me to be so. If I had looked into a mind I think I would have expected to see images. Images of people. Images of people he didn't really like. The forces all so strong and together in inevitable twists endlessly. Images of people she didn't really like. The institutional indifference carried deep down into reality. Here inside me it is impossible to touch anything that does not immediately shrink away and withdrawal. The tears here all hang on elastic.
Yesterday I was too fast to be me. I was not at all linked to the environment but only superimposed. I saw myself ordering a glass of gin today in order to look at it up close and still not need it. It is in me now indifference. The same cannot be said of chocolate but it is so of alcohol in it all. Sadly to me it seems that it is all superficial. It could be called maya. It has nothing in it that is any more than superficial. It is no more than that. But that is just in me and I suppose for other people it is otherwise. Like all drugs it strikes me as no more than superficial and for entertainment. It is like the colour of your shoes. If it is impossible to live without red shoes it is anything but strange. There seems to be just no reason for this. That is all it is to me. It is entertainment which is all quite enough if it can be seen as such. But I am worried by entertainment displacing the reality of today. Surely for me that is disorder. Still there are primroses flowering and the sun was right for them today just once I saw them. The snowdrops have lost the light now and are soon to seed.