August 28, 2006
The Morning Message - Mysteries of the Universe Revealed
I was just about to resign my Sprinkle Brigade auxillary membership, due to lack of raw material (another public health success story, dog owners are actually picking up after their loved ones-- we did it with dog poop, we did it with the hole in the ozone layer , we did it with AIDS, now let's do it with the rest of the critcal issues here on earth, like climate change, war and epidemic post traumatic stress disorder). But I digress.
I set out on my sunrise walk on Saturday , sprinkles in hand, only to be rewarded by the small brown pile above. Because I am very myopic, at first I thought it subject for sprinkle. On closer examination, I realized that it seemed to have its own sprinkles, a stick, and a wrapper, and reached the conclusion that I had a melted fudgsicle on my hands. I can't remember my exact association, but let us say I took this as a good sign -- you know, dog poop to melted fudgsicle, a step in the right direction.
Thirty yards beyond the fudgsicle, there was a fresh pink carnation lying in the road. Carnations are not indigenous to the seashore.
I wouldn't have taken this as a message if I hadn't been listening to an audio book entitled "The Secret History of The Pink Carnation" all week (lean pickings at the library in the audiobook section during the summer). The book concerns lighthearteded British undercover spying in France during the Napoleonic era. You are undoubtedly familar with the Scarlet Pimpernel. Well, the Pink Carnation is a fictional female version. Since I consider myself a lighthearted female subversive of sorts, though not as adorably brilliant, classically, or beautiful as The Pink Carnation, I do identify with the her. I was amused to find the flower at my feet.
Speaking of which, I also began to notice that I was walking without pain. Tui na has almost cured the plantar flexed forefeet which have plagued me for a number of years. I had also seen my nutritionist the day before and she, divining rods whipping around like helicoptor blades, had given me a remedy that seemed to really help.
Reaching the shore, I proceeded to take my usual four hundred shots of the harbor at sunrise.
As I rounded the bend, hoping to catch the rare blue heron of last summer in a reflective pose, I was buzzed by a flying formation of migrating Canadian geese overhead, honking their heads off, (my shot is too blurry to publish), and then I happened upon a pair of black slippers with a purple swirly lining sitting on the retaining wall. This could be construed as a message about my improving connection to the earth through my healing feet -- that is, if I were completely psychotic. Did I giggle? Yes, so I dare to mention it.
And finally, because the sun had fully risen, I looped back to shoot my fudgsicle, once again, hoping that it would be illuminated more brilliantly. That's when I noticed the magenta strings. I picked it up. It turned out to be a mobile of sorts, made in the Phillipines of coconut shell pieces, and some kind of unfamiliar Phillipino rocks strung together with magenta string, and tiny white shells (as small as sprinkles). Of course it had been run over by several cars, so it undoubtedly had lost some of its charm. Quite the transformation, as twere.
I brought it home and dropped it on the table on the deck. When it was discovered by others, they were relieved to hear that it was something that I had collected, and not an ominous talisman left as a curse upon our household. Well , they might not have said that directly, but that's what they implied.
Oh I do wish I knew what it all meant -- that is, if it means anything at all.
Photo notes: A simple documentation of signs observed, and minor lunacy. Nothing pretty about it.
Posted by Dakota at August 28, 2006 07:37 AM