Gee! Perfect, and I'm awake. The boundary is fascinating, and to float on it, a skeeter, and to see both the worlds, simultaneously, to see the sky in the water, red-orange autumn leaves on the water, surface tension around the edge, some leaves on the bottom.....
....something tells me that you might like that...
Well guess again, Batman!
Oops, the struggle for my dialogue ~ back in a moment, after a fisticuffs ~
Yes. I would. Looks like a world where only smiling silence can power you up enough. Once there, it's so easy to sit. Though I get excited. Like hyperstimulated around things that are beautiful. Heebie - jeebies.
Water.
I wonder if there is some sort of allegory-like feeling about water. I can barely think this, what I'm thinking about; pound words, like on iron. But,
Like "suppose," there is an inner, invisible being. And that being can be cloaked and bathed in water, water that is alive. In and of itself. And that we recognize this being, intuitively, from the form of water; in the presence of water. This one who exists, without form, within us. As though the beads of water and light are comprehensible there. Mercurial, yes. Almost mnemonic. Suppose water exists somewhere else.
(Pretend; you know.)
Anyway.
I sometimes almost hear water, inside me.
I guess I'm a sea shell. Heh heh. (What a butthead.) (But I like being a butthead.)
Sometimes the air is so clear. (Yes, I would like to be there.) I recall looking down or out at a piece of my clothing in a place like that; and it was red and black, and startling and clear. Like the leaves and sun and water, that I was like a leaf too; as I looked outside myself, I saw the external evidence of that. Like a leaf. And it made me smile, and it all blended together. I had located myself in the universe. Poom. Temporarily, or permanently, heck I don't know. Red and black have appealed to me since then, as a little giggle. Red and black checks.
I was on Mount Rainier once, and the Ohanapekosh River is very clear, but the water has a topaz tinting to it. The rocks are purply-grey, green hemlock and fir, and the blue and white sky, and they create the water reflections; but the water itself ~ in just the right glint or angle of spot ~ has a soft, clear, ephemeral color. Tourmaline. It looks thicker than water; but the thickness is light.
It turns out it actually does. Have a tint. It's not cloudy, at all; but there are microfine volcanic particles in the water. Still, before I knew that, I knew it had this color; and I could see it and then couldn't and it was very pleasant and mysterious, in a friendly way, and I would go out along the river and look for it. Walk along the quiet ravines and look in the pools and little falls.
Up on one of the sides of the mountain, near the treeline (I think the original Indian name for "Rainier" was Mountain of Light), I was sitting by a stream that fell through rocks that were completely covered with pure chartreuse, fresh water mosses. Thick, like sponges. Alive. Verdant. Fluffy. The stream and sunlight environment was so rich, that at the stream edges, into the water, this carpet covered every rock, sloping down into the water until the fastest or crashing-est current washed the lava clean, on the bottom boulders. At the turns and pool edges of the water, the crystal clear current would roll and roil and surge up along this toboggan-edge of limey fluff. The plant foliage itself was so dense and clean, that it resisted the water, and so all of the lappings were not "wet", not "wetting;" they were dry. The water became metallic-like. Like a crystal clean, active-motion solid. Undulating, like acrylic ribbons on a shore. Foam of the water would splash out from the stream, ball up on the spongey lime into perfect brilliant spheres, and roll back down into the edge. The flowing water was folded over in a curve, moving quickly, noisily by, without really touching the moss tops. Like it held itself together. Until the point underneath where gravity would break the tension. Bright, high altitude sun shone directly through the water, which left refractive lines and bright spots on the beach-slope of moss. It glistened. It was bright.
I took a picture. Well, whaddya know!
Anyway, it looked like that water was alive.
Infinite.
I might go back ~ :o)
The sound, that rushing noise, the musical cacophony, drone, the activity, the security (HAPPY moss ~ it would be nice to be springy green moss and sit on the sunny rocks of a snowstream). It smelled so fresh. It was like another world there, a tv series, where one could become formless.
So, I did.
That's why I became a phosphor.
:o) |
