I've been feeling a little better lately, so I thought I would try to read a novel. I have always love to read, and my decreased concentration made it too diffficult to do any kind of reading. I found a copy of The Prince Of Tides by Pat Conroy hanging around in my spare bedroom, so I thought I would give it a go. This is the book that was made into a movie with Barbara Streisand and Nick Nolte. I remember seeing the movie, but all I can remember is Nick Nolte crying in Babs' arms. For some reason, it seems important to remember the plot, but I can't.
The writing is a little tough sometimes, and I have to go back and read a fair bit, but I am doing ok so far. Some of the writing is so beautiful. One passage that struck me was:
"But in the unconscious, I began to encounter both wild fruit and vast undisciplined vineyards. I tried to censor the superfluous or the commonplace, yet I knew large truths lay hidden in the clovers, sweet grasses, and wild mint." This passage struck me profoundly, like somehow my truths are laying in clover too.
My unconciscous is holding my memories; painful ones. Sometimes I see a glint of a memory, like a fleeting fish under flowing water. I wish I could either remember or forget and not be in this painful no-man's land.