The sacred against the asphalt
21 August 2011 05:45 AM Categories: Writing prompts | Best of the blog
It is easier with my eyes closed, with my mind only on sensation, on the thick succulents with their reservoirs of water at the center. Even the bees don’t mind my gentle touch, and the ladybugs tickle the back of my hand, while the praying mantises dart away. I can feel their presence, their fear, and so I hold my hand still until they take cover.
In the room there is nothing but a cool breeze, the sound of the neighbor talking in German on his cell phone. I hear the highway traffic, the soft thump of cat paw on roof shingle. You are silent, I feel the warmth of your breath, and if I pay enough attention, I hear the flow of blood, the heartbeat, my own life humming in my head against the rhythm of yours.
The garden, the room, the smooth coolness of the pillow, the heavy hot weight of a cat against my hip: I am not to open my eyes, I don’t want to, but one can’t stay closed forever. The challenge is to open up, to acknowledge the world, to take it in all forms, to let it enter you as you enter it.
Last night on the dog walk I looked across a quiet side street and saw a tree, its trunk like grey withered skin, its canopy high and round and dignified. I saw the tree, green and grey, with leaves like hands. It had being and separateness, its own life in the world. I remembered the closeness of childhood with nature, the way I befriended trees and said goodbye to them when my mother and I moved on. There was no barrier between me and them and I didn’t need to close my eyes against the world, to distract myself with chatter and the glowing screen, with a book cracked open at every opportunity.
This is what I want, no division between me and you and trees and plants. I want to take it in, to see it clearly, the sacred against the asphalt and cracked sidewalk. My hand reaches for yours in the evening fog, both of us aware of the music of blood flow, of life, separate, related, part of the world.
The photo above was the prompt.
I'm posting every messy Round Robin prompt, a prompt a day until the RR ends. This one was lightly edited.
Image by Jane Underwood, Writing Salon Mistress.
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