I am confused today
How did I get to here?
How do I know
what I believe to be knowable?
I am who I am
right now
but
I have no idea
what has happened in between
me now
and me then
I feel dumbfounded
by this state
this heightened awareness
of unawareness
How will I move forward
without the in-between
layers
that make up
my perception
of my initial experience
if I can’t remember
what that was?
How can I stand to
long-leggedly
step forward
into something
I won’t remember?
As I sit here writing, I ask my self: what have I to gain? and where have I lost?
In the beginning I thought this event was to be integrated and distinctly minimalist. Four columns, four series of projections, darkness and a lit up triangle with slow fluid descending from above. The show was this and plus or minus equations that filled up the space. In between the columns, whirlwinds of tension blocked the participants. The air was dank and cold. Life had just fallen, crushed by giants, onto the floor. A disaster had taken place with the kind of destruct that eliminates space. The quiet had pushed into the floorboards.
And as I walked a foot, stepping carefully onto the floor, I wandered into some vacant place in my self. I felt an emptiness that is different from space. When I speak of space, it is not empty. It is filled with expansiveness and molecules and energy. Emptiness is scary. It is void of any thing, as I know it. No wonder all those plusses kept arising. When I think of what space means to me now, I fall to the floor. I feel my body being pulled to the earth. And I can not stop this.
As I continued to walk, a glow of two walls with the tip pointing at me began to ask what I was doing there. At first I did not listen. I kept pacing around the columns. Then I heard it again. She didn’t call my name, but I knew she was calling only me. I glided toward her with my weight on the floor. I stepped half-way around the structure and found a third wall, the supporting wall. I peaked through the openings. The air increased and suddenly I felt like I was at the beach gazing into the faraway sky. Drips of clear fluid slid down thin strings into sand. As I stepped onto the sand I felt the layers falling off. I felt alone and naked, warm and alive. I reached up to touch the fluid and found my self. There I was glistening back at me. The fluid slowed around my fingers as they met each other for the first time.
One and three does not mean three minus two nor three equals one. To be in collaboration is to remain unique and complex and to integrate, inter-mesh, fall softly to the winds.
