I’ve always loved the idea of the Rorschach test. You know,
those blotchy ink drawings that shrinks and guidance counselors
show and ask you to interpret. And based on what you say, they identify
like the joke about the patient who saw all kinds of sexual innuendos
in the blots.
The shrink said that the patient had sex on his mind.
"My mind," he said "I didn't make these pictures."
When I took these and other tests as a kid because I was not doing
well in school they told my mother that I didn't like my father.
That was a surprise to me...and my dad and I laughed about that.)
now I am going to tell you a story about signs. About things that
appeared in my psychic landscape that I read as signs.
Yesterday, I wrote to you about the literal exchange that
I had with Pseudonym about how she wants to end our relationship
as lovers and
move into a friendship.
(as the expression goes). It seems so rare when lovers can be friends.
I bet the same
people who try to do this are entrenched with all kinds of clutter.
Things that they no longer need.)
was one kind of story. Here is another.
When I was at Pere Marquette Park on Sunday, Pseudonym called
my cell phone. We had the mutually frustrating experience
each other with bad reception.
I sensed it was important so I said through the crackling
phone that I would call her back.
I got on the road where we continued to cut in and
Finally, I just pulled off the highway and wound
up in front of some train tracks to try to call.
The area was empty. Just after I turned off the ignition,
a light flashed, a whistle blew and a train passed
I called her and she said she wanted to talk in person
and preferably before she went out that night. As
I was easily
an hour away and
not up for another potential scene, I took a few
deep breaths, explained the situation and suggested
that if it was important,
it was ok to
me on the phone.
(Kim: In my mind the jury
is still out whether we are just listening to coincidences, or
whether everything is interconnected. Linda is reading a book called
"the Field" which is all about the scientific studies about how
we "communicate" by generating minute light vibrations.)
is when she told me that she no longer wanted to be together.
Now I know that the world does not exist
for my personal pleasure or convenience,
although on a gorgeous day,
I am hard-pressed
to think about
why it does not. But sometimes, I
feel like I am a radio and if I am finely tuned,
I can hear various
frequencies that are
Or maybe I feel like an early Polish
mystic for whom the universe unfolds
in a series
of signs that point
to this path and that.
How perfect that we couldn’t hear each other because the
phone cut in and out.
How perfect that the only language
that she and I seem to have at our
made no sense.
How perfect that I got off the highway
and literally said to her, “I
have no idea where I am. I am in the middle of nowhere.”
How perfect that as I was stopping,
literally turning off my engine,
she told me that
she wanted to end
How perfect that, as she was telling
me that, a light flashed, signal
a train passed by in
front of my eyes.
My past? My present? My future? Going
where? I had no idea.
How perfect that, having gotten off
the highway, I got lost and wound
up at a gas
station in Jennings
where a very nice
man dressed in hip hop with his
little girl took the time to patiently and
explicitly tell me how
to get back to the Central
How perfect that before the phone
call and the train and the getting
lost, I was
driving along the Great
my belly with
breath, singing with Stevie Wonder,
marveling at the swoop of the eagles
and the glitter
of the water
and thinking, “Yes,
life is good.”
The study of semiotics is signs.
And signs are not unilateral.
I could be a grouch, I'd say that on a planet where only random
cause and effect) there would be lots of coincidences that people
would attribute to mystical causes. We'd soon have all kinds of
religion, and people would eagerly give 1/10 of income to these
read everything that happened as highly symbolic of the difficulty
despite repeated attempts.
That we have reached a fork in
the road. That I do not
know where I
am going. That
I literally am lost.
I don't see you as being loss...just that you don't know where
you are and that you
believe you are loss. Look at it this way. An eagle watches someone
aimlessly walking in circles in a forest would (from
her vantage point) correctly
describe that person as being loss, but the person themself would
know exactly where she was (i.e. in a forest walking in circles.)
It is when we become the eagle looking at ourselves that we use
words like "I am loss.")
That some kind person will
help me find my way again. (Kim: I hope that
person will be you.) That I will make it home.
And that there was breathtaking
beauty to be found
before and there will
be again. (Kim: Both
beauty and sometimes
Tuesday, Jan 10, 2006