If I could reach through the computer screen…

lapis lazuli ball

I want to hand you a lapis lazuli ball
So you can lose yourself in the deep blue
And be dazzled by the gold specks.
I want you to roll it over and over in your hand
Gently nose it to feel its texture
And weigh it in your hand.

black tourmaline egg

I want to hand you my black tourmaline egg
So you can feel that unique texture
I want you to hold it while you sleep
And wake up to it, warm and slick in your hand

amber ring

I want to hand you my amber ring
So you can watch the sunlight turn it into fire
And watch the sun set inside it glittering red, orange, and yellow

I want to do these things
So that I can say
We share these sensory experiences
And nothing can take that away

I want to hand things back and forth
And clack them together to hear their sounds
And rub them on our cheeks
And brush them against our fingertips

Then I want to hand you things too big to pick up:

The warmth and smell of a granite mountainside as the sun heats it up all day long.

The liquid sunlight melting across the coat of a cat who embodies sunlight well.

The whole cycle of life that takes place in the soil of a redwood forest.  And the smell of that soil.

The deep rumbling sound of the Mother Tree when you’re curled up against it, surrounded by its invisible amethyst glow.

The feeling of lying in bed, but at the same time, being surrounded by a deep, glowing blue sky, as if pre-dawn or post-dusk. And listening to the music of the forest.  Listening with my skin, listening with my eyes, listening with my fingertips, listening with my nose.  Listening with everything more than my ears.  Being wrapped in the song of the forest and the stars and the trees and the soil and the fungus, all singing, all singing inside me.

I know you can feel the layers of sensory experience.  The layers of meaning that come before the meaning of mind.  The things we were meant to forget, when we learned to think their way.  The things we didn’t forget, the things that we retained no matter what we were told to forget.  The stillness, the silence.  The music in the silence, the growth and death and birth cycling endlessly.

I would hand you these things, if I could reach through a computer screen.  And I would take whatever you handed back, and listen to it sing its unique song.  And we could communicate the way we are meant to communicate.  By what came before thought, by what came before sight and sound, touch and smell, by the resonance in what came before.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s