It’s interesting that some of the people who have written what might be termed the darkest sort of literature (often poetry), are the same people who have written what might be termed some of the most fanciful (again, often poetry and/or for children).
T S Eliot is on my mind as I say this: thinking of his book Ash-Wednesday (several linked long poems) juxtaposed to his book Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats (best-known musical adaptation of the poems is Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical Cats).
The connection between the dark and the light is very real.
M L S Baisch
They say our surroundings say something about ourselves, which can only mean about our souls, I suppose. I sometimes look around to see what’s around me: what I have created. I confess, my computer room, to some eyes, looks like a cyclone hit. To me, it looks like I’m busy: I know where everything is, and everything that is is important.
When it comes to gardens, I also prefer what looks to some like confusion. That picture on the left (or maybe you see it on the top: it’s not mine) looks to be an image of simplicity: it looks like the garden of someone with an uncluttered mind: uncluttered is not the same thing as empty. On the other hand, that picture on the right is a picture of one of my gardens: it blooms in profusion! A little of this, and a little of that. To my eyes, blooming in a harmonious whole.
You notice that both gardens have structural components. Both have intricacies beyond that invite the eye in to wander–the one along lines in the sand, the other to flit from blossom to blossom. Perhaps the two gardens are more alike than they seem.
The one, however, obviously strives for perfection. The other, there is not doubt, celebrates the beauty of contained chaos.
M L S Baisch