The book of Yaak
“I find myself thinking more and more about the turning-away-from, the divergence, where I left the trail of science and turned down the path of art. They're both about invisible or buried things, but in art you don't name them—you just chase them, then let them go.
For a long time I didn't recognize that I had turned down a new path: it all seemed the same. Brushy, remote, lush—mysterious and shifting—something new every day—and yet with some reassuring constancy, some background, bedrock, unch...anging basic-ness, always at depth, just beneath me and just beyond me. It was like being a child. Nothing was ever identical—every day, every observation, was new: and yet there was the security of constancy, of stability.
The world appeared that way to me—stable, secure, knowable—and 1 know in my heart that that is its true nature—for thirty-five years.
But now it is as if the trail has opened into a meadow, a small clearing—and as if I must go across that clearing; and I am hesitant to do so.MoreLess
For a long time I didn't recognize that I had turned down a new path: it all seemed the same. Brushy, remote, lush—mysterious and shifting—something new every day—and yet with some reassuring constancy, some background, bedrock, unch...anging basic-ness, always at depth, just beneath me and just beyond me. It was like being a child. Nothing was ever identical—every day, every observation, was new: and yet there was the security of constancy, of stability.
The world appeared that way to me—stable, secure, knowable—and 1 know in my heart that that is its true nature—for thirty-five years.
But now it is as if the trail has opened into a meadow, a small clearing—and as if I must go across that clearing; and I am hesitant to do so.MoreLess
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