Saturday, March 28, 2009

THERE

March 27, 2009 there
There could not be there without here. There would only be T, if not for here. I sit in the here and peer out of the tiny window on the side of the coach. Strain my neck to see if there are any better angles from which I might view the horizon, but the slit of an opening is so narrow I cannot even tell where the sun is, I can only see the light. The light or the not light. I sit in my here and rub my cold left knee, rub it to awaken it. My feet have fallen fast asleep so that if I were to stand, as if the carriage would allow me, I would surely topple over. It's not all that bad, this here-space. It is warm and safe and comfortable enough. Comfortable to a fault. I hear the laughter of the neighbor girls as they raise their dresses up over their heads and move naked and free to the water. I hear them, and I taste the salt in the air and I know the ocean must be so close, only I cannot see it. It is over there. And I am here.
I sat tonight in one large room with one magnificent flock of artists at the Mormon Arts Retreat. I sat in the back and handled the lights, flipping them off and on to match each performer. I sat in utter amazement at the gifts that floated out of their hands, their mouths, their brains and throbbing chests. It seemed impossible that the mere mortals with whom we share this here had created THAT, those "theres" which seem so unobtainable, almost unreal in their perfection. I imagine myself in their there, in their studios and dens, before their easels and pianos and computers and notepads. I feel myself turning the brush as I pull it through a wad of paint, twisting the red and the blue together to make the perfect lavender for that woman's gown. I feel the music in my belly rising up and floating out like Tammy's, sense the energy rising up through my shoulders and then down to my fingertips as they dance across the piano keys. I am sculptor and dancer and poet and actor. I can show you what I meant when I am done, instead of having to explain what I thought I could maybe possibly oh never mind do. I am here and they are there and there is so far away. So far, though he sits beside me in this room. I smile when he returns to his seat, patting his back and telling him how amazing he is, how I admire his work. I turn my head forward to partake of the next piece, wondering the while how long it has been since he was here.

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