glosoli

i think that in icelandic, the word "glosoli" means "the answer to everything". after yesterday, i'm convinced of it.

from... the early fog of sunday morning... so thick that i could have been anywhere: the dark and decaying piers interrupting the glassy water, the sand along the bay reflecting pools of water in such a way they could have been snow... it could have been anywhere but the road to boston, it could have been iceland (i wish).

in-between... a more heavenly voice: the anglican mass. the music of the liturgy, the overwhemling smell of incense, the chilling power of God and the tall church walls. (thus fullfilling my first ever church of the advent sunday experience)

an artist recently told me that where there is convergence, that is where we find God. i couldn't agree more. neither could flannery o'connor ("everything that rises must converge") or t.s. eliot (more on him and the liturgy to come...). it is all coming together now. slowly, inevitably. and i have to decide between 2 very separate ways, but where they converge: that's where i am supposed to be.

to... alone on the night highway, the full-moon sky taunting me with a false sense of clarity about the world, sigur ros reassuring me that there is still something beautiful to it all.