This is Whisper. He'll be 13 next week. He's dreaming about a world where vacuum cleaners are silent, thunder doesn't happen, and large plastic bags, loud human sneezes, and fireworks don't exist. I know this because I know him really well. Also, if you switch out the variables, my dreams are pretty much the same as his. We both want a world where we feel safe, happy, and deeply, simply loved. Whisper had the chance to dream a little longer because I remembered to set the phone on silent before taking this photo.
The wasp tolerated me, barely, because, well, we hardly know each other and there I was with my phone practically bumping the flower and the wind coming up and rain beginning to fall. The wasp was so beautiful, looking at it was almost painful. The jogger whose feet are in the photo had just said good morning to me and then she was gone.
The wasp has itself planted firmly on the milkweed. The jogger has her feet planted firmly on the paved road. I was balancing on the mulch, trying not to fall forward, trying to keep my hand still. It wasn't until I saw the photo that I realized the jogger's feet were also in the frame. So I'm thinking about feet. Where we place them, how we balance, why we put ourselves here or there. There's landing, there's movement, there's a race toward or away from. Where are we going? How will we know when we're there? I guess I don't know the answers to questions like these any more than the next person. What I do know is how lucky I feel to have happened upon the wasp and the jogger out doing their thing. I'm thinking too much about thinking too much some days and then I think well that's normal and then I think no it's not and then I think well it's normal for me isn't it and then I think what's normal anyway and then I think don't you have something better to do and then I think well of course I do but then I think look at this photo I took. I got in real close, obviously, and tried to stay very still. Now the words and the chains and the arrows and the bricks look like they're all working very hard for control. It's like they're thinking too much and you can just feel the strain of effort. But it's a system and it works. If it didn't, that room would have been flooded with whatever it is the control valve is controlling, wouldn't it? What do you think about that? Think about that. And don't you see, as I think I do, that it's all kind of beautiful, isn't it, this wonderful concerted effort?
Text(ure)
Fr(am)e Bev(el) Gla(z)e Squ(are) [the news is bad] L(i)ne Ho(ne)yco(m)b Fe(nc)e [change the channel] Tre(e) (containment) (container) [turn it off] (content) [turn it around] [stop watching] [do something] [but what] [and how] [and where to begin] [anywhere] [everywhere] f(l)ow go |
Categories |