Green Dress and Emeralds

Journal 8-18-09

I'm washing my hands in my bathroom and as I'm reaching for a towel to dry them I glance out the small bit of window that is exposed above the shade. About 6 inches by 8 inches. The evening light is shining on the wall opposite the window and all I feel is the beauty of the light and the shadows made by the brown stucco.

Adobe…adobe…adobe repeats over and over in my head and the little bit of window is expanding, on its own, into a doorway looking through a courtyard with pink somewhere…on the right… I'm not sure where the pink is… in front? or is it in back? Maybe framing the doorway? And I feel like I want to capture it….but what is it? What is there to capture?

So I walk forward, toward the window. Maybe to try to sink further into whatever is being created for my imagination's entertainment…I assure you it's not me doing the work. It happens to me. It's what gets frustrating and causes me to shut down. These things I see and feel and that grow beyond me. I want to hang onto them, to keep them in some way, to make them real so I can share them…but it all happens so fast and then they are gone and I am left spinning.

So I stop looking. I stop seeing. I stop myself from feeling because when these things evanesce without a trace I feel like I've been neglectful. But what the fuck am I supposed to do about a dirty, mostly covered up window facing a semi attractive wall which are both turning into a gorgeous arched pink framed doorway leading to a courtyard with a fountain and flowering bushes rather than being the wall at the back of Julie's bedroom….What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? I walk toward the window, maybe to try to see more of it…or maybe it's so I can stop it…Now I can see, across the top of the wall hangs the dusty gutter covered with cob webs. The doorway and courtyard are gone and I am left standing alone in the silent, cool bathroom.

Journal 8-22-09

What should I do with that? Here's an idea. Quit bitching about it and try something. Take action. Have gratitude that you have experiences like that. Figure it out.

I looked at the window today and all I saw was a window. I felt blank.

If James or Oscar or Malcolm or Liam or Elliott or any of your friend's kids were to tell you about something they had imagined what would you say? Would you say "Oh, by all means, get pissed off and frustrated and shut down now. Please, do yourself a favor and ignore that gift!" Or would you say "That's SUPA COOL! What fun! Let's draw it! Let's paint it! Let's outline it in the sand! Let's write a story about it! Let's make it with Lego's or Sculpy clay or mud and rocks, flour and water! Let's think about it before we fall asleep and dream about it! Was it a sunny day in the courtyard? What did it smell like? Was it the courtyard of a castle? May I be the Princess? May I wear one of those pointy hats with a scarf hanging off the tip? And a green, swishy dress? And lot's of emeralds? And flip flops?

I love my imagination.

Take action. "The passion devours the fear!" (Juliet Binoche)