ππ¦π’π³ ππ°π₯, ππ¦π’π³ π΄π΅π’π³π΄, π₯π¦π’π³ π΅π³π¦π¦π΄, π₯π¦π’π³ π΄π¬πΊ, π₯π¦π’π³ π±π¦π°π±ππ¦π΄, ππ¦π’π³ ππ·π¦π³πΊπ΅π©πͺπ―π¨. ππ¦π’π³ ππ°π₯. – Alice Walker
I imagine thereβs not a lot one can say about a work like this that probably hasnβt been said, but there is a lot to be said of the distance one travels when staying alive, gaining experience, and reflecting.
…And all Iβve been thinking about is God.
Iβve been thinking about where itβs at, how we find it + how it continuously bursts out of whatever weβve tried to hold it in. And like that Ultimate Ancestor, Walkerβs prose is elusive in the way that the relationships explored in these letters seem to pour out of the boundaries of the stationary they occupy in the readerβs mind–they seem to not be bound in anyway by what letters use to compartmentalize scenes–resulting in a connectedness that gets at the root of what correspondence should do: resume, restore, resuscitate, reaffirm, reawaken + reopen.
And if all of these things in the quote I chose are not only of God, but are it, then one must ponder too, wonder even, how simple it is of us to not think the love Celie + Shug shared to be divine and natural as the color purple (π΅π©πͺπ΄ π€π°ππ°π³ π΅π©π’π΅ πͺπ΄ π’ππΈπ’πΊπ΄ π’ π΄πΆπ³π±π³πͺπ΄π¦ π£πΆπ΅ πͺπ΄ π¦π·π¦π³πΊπΈπ©π¦π³π¦ πͺπ― π―π’π΅πΆπ³π¦?)? …And furthermore how simple of us to think anything here, there + everywhere to not be natural? Queer folk donβt have to explain anything, βcause like Celie said, her pants are special because anybody can wear them. So it is with love. Anybody can wear it.
Getting man off your eyeball + how this world has allowed a certain concept(s) of man in patriarchy effort to make us think itβs necessary + all–like God–is one of the processes from which no one was exempt in this novel if they hoped to enjoy a conscious connection to the All That Is. Letting this work continue to have me participate in that has got me thinking about conjuring up flowers, wind, water, and big olβ rocks. I could go on and on and maybe I will, but not today.
Written in debt to Alice Walker the writer/medium.
