An Image

How a book comes to be in your possession…friends that have passed over to the other side must sleep at specialty bookshops. Cover art beckoned me from the display window; trancelike I walked through the open door. Titles I have not seen before, words tapping my flesh demanding my attention. I wanted to open the pages, those which had transfixed my senses, and then rest my bones to the page in order to merge. It became apparent that a specific order of images wanted to meld with my person. Each of my charkas had chosen a visual counterpart union. A joining of paper and flesh. Trees infused with visions seep into a lone woman. Blocking out then detaching from given surroundings, I took the stack of books to an aisle that whispered, “We are alone”. At the moment when I had the images perfectly adjusted, I lay down next to this vertical cacophony and then proceeded to gently place myself over them.
“Jesus Christ Clyde!! Busloads of blue hairs are attacking,” Santa turned to me then immediately whipping herself back around opened her trenchcoat- blocking my intimacy from the prying stampeding herd. I touched each image for the last time through the technique of imprintation through the act of a deep breath or seven deep breaths in rapid succession.

Before leaving Australia, an actor, a force and a woman had brought gifts for us. The wine that her family produces dates as far back as 1843. I am drinking the 1843 Freedom Shiraz as I write these thoughts. Synchronicity is what I live for. More poetic than the religious mantra, “a miracle,” synchronicity is the true music of the Universe, thoughts harmonizing with matter. Ideas and actions. Union. The Red Tree, a children’s book, somehow got mixed up in my things. Someone mistakenly had placed it in my travel bag. The fact that Tash and I have the same make of travel bags has, at this moment, dawned on me. On one of the pages, a striking picture stared back at me…letters spill out of a megaphone. Hidden surprises have been illustrated by Shaun Tan, the effect better than the best Easter egg hunt. The Red Tree has captured my doubts and given them a new job to do. Their new job is not to doubt but to faithfully find the magic imaging etched into every page. Faces form out of hundreds of leaves. Swelling to storm proportions inside the little girl’s room. Magic is still alive on something as simple as a piece of paper.