So, it’s been five years since this little site began. I don’t often connect with readers outside of the comments section but this does not diminish my appreciation for those who take the time to engage with my thoughts, through all their colourful and jarring incarnations.
Browsing the archives is like revisiting an awkward yearbook photo. It’s nostalgic and cringe inducing at points. 🙂
So, enough me talk.. let’s go write…. and thanks again.
When I was a recent graduate of my toddlerdom, about 8 years old, i took a shower. I used to shower by flashlight because I found the experience more sensory rich though obviously i wasn’t able to frame it so at that age. While lathering, I noticed a large spider scurrying along the “V” where the ceiling and wall met. I was never one to dislike spiders, so I just let it go on doing its own thing. I guess the condensation made it hard for my companion to get tracking and it kept slipping down the wall, then it would try its climb again. After watching it struggle for a few minutes, I decided that the spider would have a better chance elsewhere.
I reached past the shower curtain for the towel rack and found a maroon facecloth. I placed it under the skittering spider until it dropped final. Once landed, i placed the facecloth on the closed lid of the laundry basket. When my shower completed, I stepped onto the bath mat and noticed the spider was gone.
The same evening, while lying in bed trying to fall asleep, I noticed a spider that looked very similar to the earlier shower one, tucked in the corner of the window sill beside my bed. (whether it was or not doesn’t really matter). It had spun a corner prism, and when the moonlight graced its thread, i saw a shimmer. I felt calm and thought to myself for the first time “Huh, i guess this is what they mean by we all help each other…”.
It took me a short while to discover that not every one felt the same way.
As for the mosquito…well….. 😉
Kodak would visit his sacred space down by the river each morning before sun’s bleed. This moment of day, generous in its quiets and wisdom. He would gaze over the foggy sheet of ripples and perceive the winged divers of dawn feeding. Life’s tinctures pinwheeling above shore.
Kodak longed to be the river, the waves, the calming motion, the down under. He thought , “ water, only ever has to “be” to be enough”. In just pooling self in rest nurtures life around it, by its simple happening.
Feelings pulsed from some hidden heart within the boy. He said out loud, “If my own body is mostly water, why not return what is, to source? I want to go home.” Surely, if his desire was mighty he would succeed in becoming his wants.
Curious, with each day’s cracking dawn, Kodak shed his drops, returning day following, slighter and weaker than last. On his final visit to the river, a tiny boy of bones and hopes stepped onto familiar rock and wrung the remainder of his moisture, eager to merge eternally with beauty.
Kodak, then became the air and coasted invisible with flow that’s always just been there.