Something Seven Saw

One time not long ago I saw something happen to the one who loved me. She was the one who saved my life, twice. When I was one day old I was left on a doorstep in a box, shivering and crying. She said I was like a black little pickle, bitter and sweet. She took me home, and that was the first time she saved my life. Days later, after a difficult time of growing without my natural mother, I stopped breathing in the night. She held me in her great hands and blew her breath into me, and that was the second time she saved my life. She would say that is why my name is Seven, because I have only seven lives left.
    Now I am quite old. My recollections of this one who loved me are simple and of her love. She would look me in the eye and smile and talk to me. She would say, "Want some lunch?" or "Brush?". She would say, "Love", too, and pick me up and hold me in her arms with mine around her shoulders, and we would touch noses. She knew I was fascinated with what is outside the big window, so she would let me go outside and she would come with me. I was fascinated but afraid, and she would always watch over me. I would roll in the gravel and chew the long grass. I would get excited and confused and run to the far side, she would call me, "Here, Seven," and carry me back to our home.
    She would cry sometimes. We would sit on the bed where we slept at night. She would be looking far away at something I couldn't see, her eyes half open like in a dream. A tear would roll down her cheek, and I would feel unhappy and nuzzle up against her side as we sat on the bed. She would reach down to put her arm around me and run her soft fingers through my hair.
    One morning she was awake and tears were rolling down her cheek. It was still dark, it was quiet outside the window. She seemed to be having a dream, she was speaking to someone in the room, but it was not to me and there was no one else I could see.
    "Mother", she said. "Mother, Mother, Mother... please get me out of here, Mother." I didn't know what she meant. Why was she crying? Why did she want to leave, and why did she need Mother's help? I crawled up on her pillow, so that I could look over her shoulder to see where she was looking, and I saw into her dream.


She was visiting a house, not unlike ours but not our home. The walls were dark and the air was thick with blue smoke. There were rooms with familiar things and rooms with things I did not know. I could hear sounds of machines but they were from far away. There was a strange smell, something I've never quite encountered before or since — and I am an expert on recognizing the many categories of scents I've encountered. It was not a scent from our home, something foreign and unnatural.
    She looked beautiful, wearing a blue evening gown and long elegant gloves. Her skin was soft and pale blue, blue like the smoky air of the rooms. Wisps of white curled around her eyes when she looked side to side. She was looking for something, something she expected to find in the next room. She seemed hopeful then lost, then hopeful again. She walked and looked, wandering through the house.
    The clock struck midnight and, as she began to call out again, someone came into the room with her.


I looked over her shoulder, I closely watched. I heard a soft rustling of wings in the dark blue air of her dream. A pale yellow glow appeared around two gentle faces. Angels heard her calling out and came, I could see them looking into her sad eyes. They asked her in a whisper, I could barely hear them, "Tears, my dear loved one? Why are you crying?"
    "Oh, please help me. I am so happy that you are here. I've been looking and looking but I am very alone. I cannot find Mother and I am so very, very afraid", she said to the angels. They came closer and she bowed her head in surrender and fatigue. The angels soothed her with their soft gentle eyes and calmed her with their caressing wings. Her tears began to stop.

"Dear loved one," they said, "We know how it is to be afraid and to be very alone. We had wandered the world looking for someone to help us, someone to hold us, so that we were not alone anymore. We felt the fear of wandering the rooms, looking for the ones we love in our life and the ones who loved us, only to wander alone in the dark." The one who loved me sobbed softly in their embrace. She said, "Have mercy on me, have mercy on me. Please take me away from here." The angels, tears rolling down their cheeks too, asked her, "Dear loved one, if you could go, where would that place be?"
    With a weary ring, she said, "I've been so long here in this place. I've been loved by my dearest ones, and I have loved my dearest ones with every atom of my being. I've been hurt by my dearest ones, and I have hurt my dearest ones with every regret that could be. I've felt soft, lovely things, been warm and held, seen the most beautiful views that can be held by eyes. I've seen terrible things, horrific pain, unexplainable cruelty and greed, all with these eyes. I have a mother, and I am a loving mother of another. But I am so alone now and afraid. Would you help me find a place where I can be safe and free of this fear forever?"
    The angels shuddered, and a great shake passed through my loved one. She shivered and shook me so, I had to hold fast to the pillow with a claw. The angels began to glow pale blue then white, and as they held my loved one in their feathered embrace, she began to glow too. I looked over her shoulder, and as I watched I felt all the judgments passing out of my loved one's heart. I saw the fears pass from her tearing eyes and ease replace the lonely lines around her lips. The angels smiled at each other and held their arms around her as she began to grow quiet, and the sobs faded to faint echoes.
    The dream turned pale green. And a peaceful, yellow light filtered down upon my loved one's body. As the angels' glow faded and the green and yellow light grew strong, I saw my loved one's smile. She turned as she floated alone in the green and yellow water of a warm, embracing sea. She waved her hand and touched my cheek with all the tenderness I have ever known, and I knew she was now at peace.


The dreamscape faded and I found myself alone, on the pillow. I let my grip go and recognized that, although there had been so much pain in the room only moments ago, there was now only a peace and a calm and the fullness of her freedom as she floated in the yellow light of the warm green water.
    This is what I saw as my loved one passed from view. I am now to sleep alone on this bed where I once nuzzled her leg and felt her fingers in my hair. I recollect when I was young and she saved my life, twice. She watches over me and carries me back to our home, until the end of my days, while I dream of her peace.

Deep gratitude for these illustrations by little Intava, who sits and sells her paintings in the window of her mother's shop on Hayes near Gough, rain or shine.

Une Saison en Enfer

 

Long ago, if my memory serves, life was a feast where every heart was open, where every wine flowed.
    One night, I sat Beauty on my knee. — And I found her bitter. — And I hurt her.
    I took arms against justice.
    I fled, entrusting my treasure to you, o witches, o misery, o hate.
    I snuffed any hint of human hope from my consciousness. I made the muffled leap of a wild beast onto any hint of joy, to strangle it.
    Dying, I called my executioners over so I could bite the butts of their rifles. I called plagues to suffocate me with sand, blood. Misfortune was my god. I lay in the mud. I withered in criminal air. And I even tricked madness more than once.
    And spring left me with an idiot's unbearable laughter.
    Just now, having nearly reached death's door, I thought about seeking the key to the old feast, through which, perhaps, I might regain my appetite.
    Charity is the key. — Such an inspiration proves I was dreaming!
    "A hyena you'll remain, etc...." cries the demon that crowns me with merry poppies. "Make for death with every appetite intact, with your egotism, and every capital sin."
    Ah. It seems I have too many already: — But, dear Satan, I beg you not to look at me that way, and while you await a few belated cowardices — you who so delight in a writer's inability to describe or inform — watch me tear a few terrible leaves from my book of the damned.

from "A Season in Hell", by Arthur Rimbaud

Oneirology

Sleep is a naturally recurring state of relatively suspended sensory and motor activity, characterized from the exterior by total or partial unconsciousness and the inactivity of nearly all voluntary muscles. It is distinguished from the exterior from quiet wakefulness by a decreased ability to react to stimuli, and it is more easily reversible than hibernation or coma. It is observed in all mammals, all birds, and many reptiles, amphibians, and fish. In humans, other mammals, and a substantial majority of other animals that have been studied (such as some species of fish, birds, ants, and fruit flies), regular sleep is essential for survival.

The purposes and mechanisms of sleep are only partially clear from the exterior and are the subject of intense research.

Ophelia

I
On the calm black wave where the stars sleep
White Ophelia floats like a great lily,
Floats very slowly, lying in her long veils...
- In distant woods we hear them sound the mort.

Here more than a thousand years that sad Ophelia
Passes, phantom white, on the long black river;
Here more than a thousand years that her sweet madness
Has murmured its ballad with the evening breeze.

The wind kisses her breasts and unfolds in a corolla
Her long veils gently cradled by the waters;
The shivering willows weep upon her cheeks,
Across her great brow the rushes lean.

Water lilies sigh crumpled around her;
She wakes sometimes, in an alder which sleeps,
Some nest, from where a small shiver escapes from wings:
- A mysterious chant falls from golden stars.

II
O pale Ophelia, beautiful as snow!
Yes you died, child, carried away by a river!
Because of the winds falling from the great mountains of Norway
You had whispered of bitter freedom;

It's a breath that, twisting your great hair,
In your dreamy mind carries strange noise,
That your heart listened to the singing of Nature
In the groans of the tree and the sighs of the nights;

It is because the voice of mad seas, huge rattle,
Your infant heart broke, too human and too soft;
It is because one April morning, a beautiful pale rider,
Poor madman, sat mute at your knees!

Heaven! Love! Freedom! What a dream, O poor fool!
You melted to him as snow in the fire:
Your great visions strangled your words
- And fearful Infinity terrified your blue eye!

III
And the Poet says that by the light of stars
You seek the flowers, at night, that you gathered;
And he saw on the water, lying in her long veils,
White Ophelia floating, like a great lily.

- Arthur Rimbaud, "sale petit cagot"

Product Endorsements

The automotive windshield Ice Scraper. The only thing that will do a satisfying job when this work needs to be done.

Waterpik Ultra Everyone one who can should get and use one.
In a four month period I improved the gum "pocket" measurements at my dentist by 29%. There have been very few products, treatments, programs, or other life-changes that have produced such a significant improvement in my experience. (Thank you, Carla!)

I am using only what I believe is the "Orthodontic Tip", running it down slightly under the edge of my gums. At first use I tried to keep everything neat in the bathroom, which was frustrating. Then I realized it didn't matter and began using the tool like I would have at 6 years old. Messy but mucho fun. This has led to enjoying and looking forward to the experience, which I'm sure has contributed to its effectiveness.

The Red Cross, because when you need blood there are few substitutes. Blood drives are regular events at my office building and, being healthy in this regard, I routinely spend a little time and donate blood. This organization is involved in much more than just blood donations, and with the current disaster in Haiti they'll be on the front line of support and in need of everybody's help.


Bo Bartlett because when you need one there are few substitutes.

"From the smallest particle to the largest galaxy the mystery is great and I am awed by it. I have no need to name it, to quantify it, to sum it up. If I attempt to address it in my work sometimes, it is not from a dogmatic point of reference, I am not searching for a theology or a science to explain the great mystery. An Artist romps around in the mystery like a child plays alone in his own backyard, imagining and making up his own rules and reality. An Artist romps around in the mystery like an animal roams the woods, curious and wide-eyed and alert. An Artist romps around in the mystery like an explorer traversing an unknown land, excited, careful and fully alive."

Hollywood Grill, because when you need a delicious char-broiled burger, no one around here does it this good.

Reviews: "Where else can you find an autographed Gilligan shirt hanging directly across from an autographed Teddy Roosevelt painting? Sure, the headshots and Hollywood memorabilia is a bit kitschy, but the burgers are pretty good. I ordered the Hollywood Burger - nice, thick patty and crisp buns they threw on the grill just before serving me. Fries were good too."

"Discovered this place was open and took a chance. All I can say is "WOW!" . I had the bleu cheese burger with bacon and mushrooms. The bleu cheese is in the meat of the burger and they don't skimp on the cheese. The bacon was plentiful and yummy. The burgers are huge, a 1/2 lb. and grilled. I had a side of sweet potato fries. They were good as well and not salted, which I prefer. Also, one wall is covered with autographed pictures of actors as well as some movie memorabilia. The other wall has Presidential artifacts. Very clean place and the owner and cook are very friendly. Much better than Gordo's and I hope it stays. I will definitely be back here again."

The Night Light. Like 'em, I recommend 'em. When I'm up in the night I want to see but I don't want to wake up. Nothing will ruin the next day like becoming fully awake by: 1) a blaring Klieg lamp; 2) stepping on something undesirable or bumping something painful in the dark. These familiar little do-dads have become such a warm and fuzzy fixture in my life that I've now got them all over the house. But not too many. And, unfortunately, only plain ones. I need to get some fancy varieties. Hey, friends, a gift idea!

In Praise of Dreams

Once
A tangerine girl
Had a tangerine dream
A silly bird caressing its wings
Around her tangerine eyes
They danced in spectral steps
Under a blue moon

K2E