Red Steel...

While driving with you, attempting to follow you so that I can enjoy your presence and see your smile I find myself distracted and frustrated at your inability to be in sync with my feelings. I realize of course and find amusement in this age old quandary that is an idea of polarization between the thought processes of men and women; and beyond that the concept that it is the actual hard-wiring of our brains that make us so different. I do not believe that these opposites exist. What I do believe in is social behaviors and learned thought patterns.

I see that you are so wrapped up in the actual action of driving, and thinking about driving that you are missing the drive, the opportunity to be driven and to experience what is around you without the aggressive tendency to be ahead, to be first.
I notice that you are switching lanes frequently and that your speed fluctuates wildly. I imagine this is an attempt for you to reconnect with me, but I see by the distance and your unwillingness to slow that this is not true. I laugh to myself at the parallels between this situation and our life together.

Then, as if by divine guidance, I notice the large truck in front of me. It is a cargo truck of some sort, and I notice that there are two red steel containers lying next to one another on this truck. I watch the hulls swaying with the motion of the truck and I see that there is the slightest gap of space between them. I watch as they sway together, and then intermittently the nature of their motion is interrupted and they come together. They do not come together lightly, and I wonder if this particular type of metal creates sparks upon impact.

I want to hear the sound of those two bodies colliding. I want to hear the vibration they make, deep and guttural and able to penetrate bones and teeth and cells. I know that the vibration of their union resonates inside the hulls, penetrating even the very darkness inside and in to the core of any contents therein.

I contemplate sound and the nature of sound waves, and the alchemy of the metals. I understand that while fired, there are differences in these two bodies that will create different frequencies, no matter how slight. I wonder if the difference that exists there is a matter of dominant and submissive frequency; I never doubt that in time and space the vibrations becomes one in the same. What I wonder about is the lack of choice to harmonize.

My mind, then as if on an invisible track, returns to the nature of human relationships and our ability to choose. What is it that makes us choose to harness our inherent power of choice? Who chooses to rewire neural pathways that serve not only our best interests, but those of the whole? I want to know the limitation in not choosing. I want to know the freedom of choice. I imagine that I am a large red hull made of fired metals, meant to contain all the secrets of the universe.

I study my paint, fingering the notches and the places in me where my paint is stripped away, and I am exposed from the experience of impact with other bodies. I smell the nature of my physical being, which is dense and smells of some sort of earthy wetness. I marvel at my strength, and my permanence. I realize that to lessen the force of blows when meeting others in all encounters, I must be so still that I am aware of the presence of others. I will be present enough to not only soften myself that I will bend with the impact, but I will become one with the other. I will know their every movement, so that I will merge with their action, and sway in time so that though we may merge as one, there will not be force or hardness.

As I master this centered focus on myself, I begin to imagine the nature of the contents that I hold inside; what would warrant this large red shell and this protective covering that seems impenetrable? I know that to view the content of this physicality, I must seek objectivity from outside of myself, outside of my ideas as self.

I surrender completely to the journey, and I see myself standing now at the door of this, my very nature unveiled. The box has grown in size now, so that it towers over me and reaches into the sky. I hear a creak that is immeasurable. It sounds like the sky tearing open, and I smell the metallic sharpness of rust releasing into the air. It pervades everything, and I become one with the smell of this most sacred decay. It is the smell of freedom and it mingles with my breath, and my hair and I watch, as this massive door breaks free of the locking mechanism that appears to be from an age past, a wretched desperate thing. I feel a magnetic pull over my entire being, and I feel my blood rushing to my face as I see the door slip away from the hull exposing the first glimpse of what is to come.

It falls forward with the force of the universe itself, heavy and it feels as if it will knock a hole in time when it makes contact. It falls so slowly, and with a force that stirs even the clouds in the sky. As it falls, it creates a vortex that pulls all sound from creation, and threatens to crush me, tiny and frail. When it finally lands at my feet, it falls through the earth. I marvel at the space in front of me, so vast and eternal…and the first thing I see is the stars, through the darkness mirroring my very silhouette. And it is in this moment that I realize I know the constellations. This is not the work of some mental learning by which I have learnt the stars. This is within me, this knowledge. It is part of me because I am part of the stars, and I am comprised of the same light that they are. And most importantly, so are you. So are we all. And so I realize that I know you as I know myself…because you and I are one.


© Cassandra Dunlap 2009