I keep objects on
my kitchen window. They all speak to me. They sit on the ledge above
my sink, in front of the window that looks out to the neighbors fence
past my driveway. It is an odd assortment; a potted plant, painted egg, flying nude angel, framed photos of
dear ones, a bust of Thomas Jefferson, wood carving of water
buffalo—about eighteen items. An odd assortment that matches my odd
psychology.
I notice that when
an item is near another the two “talk” to each other. The
conversations become performances and if one item were to step in or
out of the picture, the drama changes.
I composed a scenario with objects from the window. Here is a story:
An old man has
walked many lands, searching for a special gift to bring home to his
beloved in a small mountain village in Chile. She had requested a
piece of magic art to heal her of a malady
that made her terribly tired and blue.
One day, months into his journey, the fellow was out walking with his cape and
hat, one hand behind his back, deep in thought about the pursuit of
happiness. Around a bend in the road at the edge of a forest he looked up
and met a hand that spoke in sign language, “Hello there
friend!” Immediately the old man could understand as if he was
hearing the words, and with eyes bulging wide open, he replied,
“Hello good hand!” The hand's fingers were nimble and signed, “I
know you have been walking great distances in search of a healing
artwork to cheer up your beloved.” And in a second, the hand turned
away, closed into a fist, then turned again to open and produced an
egg, holding it between two fingers. The hollow egg's shell was
painted with an exquisite design in black lacquer of three farmers working in a field
of magic herbs in an enchanted world. “Put this in your sack and
find your way back home. Place the egg on your windowsill in your
kitchen. These farmers will come to your beloved in her sleep and
revive her withered field of dreams. They are expert gardeners. Her deep consciousness will flourish. Healing waters will nourish her inner garden and she will be well again.”
The old man fell
down to his knees, tearfully thanking the hand. The hand spoke one
more time, “It is because you have a pure heart that this gift is
given. You are old and infirm, yet because of love, you traveled
endlessly for your beloved. Grace has come to you at last. Go now and
know that you are protected.”
And with that the
old man hugged the hand's thumb, took the egg, put it carefully in
his sack and turned to walk home. The hand waved good-bye, then suddenly vanished.