Mia, do you teach writing or reading? Your posts are such a stretch for me, always rewarding and difficult. In a way I hate them because they demand that I have to work, and work hard,  and process what you you write, back and forth, back and forth, chasing the echos of your meanings. But damn, your simple words and mild constructs are great and mysteriously, intriguingly beguiling! You stretch me hard dear lady. Do you wear black leather dominextrous leathers and wield a whip in your class rooms? Your words work with such dominance. Beuatiful and so studdely spare! I was going to do the copy and paste thing to address your post but I realized I would end up copying the entire post, so why do that when it is intact above?

However, " then I think you also have to accept that we can meet ourselves in this way, that sparks can catch from the friction in our own private struggles, in our own interior" was the most beautiful of all. I do not know how to exist Mia. Each day blinds me. It has for many years, but as I've grown older the sunlight has grown stronger to the point where it beats me down now. I used to have immediate verve but now I seek the shadows of my past beliefs and find that they are hollow. I still have sparks, but they ultimately lead me to headstones. Your slant,  poignant posts, whip me back into living despite myself. I tremble not knowing whether to love you or hate you for saving me from my desire for agonistic self-annihalation. "How to push against the strength, to extract what is essential" IS essential. My heart quickens again. Yes, life is good once more. Thank you Mia, muse of what is beautiful!
James