Contentment, breathing and perception

From an undated hand written page of blue ink on blue paper with on the recto an annotation, perhaps later, in black ink “The days of calm bring / something. that I can / group and hold / and release. / like a breath.” Most remarkable is that attached to the sheet is a yellow stickie set as a diamond and conveys a distinctly erotic question: “How / do you hold on / to the wings of an / angel who’s / sucking your / dick?” Oddly and prominently placed and somehow poised as a variation on the theme of contentment and how to hold on to the ungraspable.

There is a certain kind of contentment that descends upon me. The kind of contentment I mean is not one that subjects me to lassitude. It is not contentment that leads to inertia. Rather it is a way of being that lives in the moment and is able to sustain itself from the joy it takes in the subtle sensual shifts. It is a type of contentment that satisfies the will to experiment and it is a contentment that is fine-tuned upon particulars. Detail is what it will thrive upon. and it is also a pleasure in maintaining — simply sweeping the floor.

it is the direction of its arrival that intrigues me. It descends. it comes through the head. this may be a result of the sensory receptors located in the head. For the contentment I speak of is based upon a life of the senses, a paying attention to the environment of self and surrounding. Must be the phonic relation between “head trip” and “hedonism”.

Contentment is also related to the intake of breath. To be able to breathe deeply.

Now that is a nice definition of contentment. and it gives a different directionality. To breathe in, to let the lungs fill and then to exhale gives the body a sense of welling up. The spine straightens [arrow indicating continuation on the overleaf]

Contentment : a richness in the interplay of the senses.

contentment : an ability to breathe.

What is the connection between breath and the play of the senses?

I don’t know the answer to the question but I am ready to imagine the heaving of shoulder blades as the stubs of wings…

And so for day 448

This entry was posted in Perception, Transcriptions. Bookmark the permalink.