This weird stuff:
The sky is “cloudy.” This is part of who he is, just now, in this case. She’d said “______ ___ _______, _____!” in just that tone, this manner – another aspect constructing him. That he’s a “he” is also not irrelevant. Of so many “years,” “locations,” “relations,” “activities” and “behaviors,” “interactions” and “learnings” ought not be ignored or left aside. There’s no other way to identify him, along with appearance, but that depends (and has changed dramatically from those first cells).
The man is “of an age,” as some might say, keeping track in the ways that people will. Is “like” (comparing as they do). Says and does, makes and thinks, with categories shared among the lot of us. A male human, then, within the commerce of the world, regardless of distinctions, and because of them.
“Specialness” is a classification reserved for none and all. A sensuous “unique,” observable and rich, endless and utterly common.
And yet we’ll pay attention, for awhile, to THIS ONE. The one recounted and described, gradually revealed (such as it is), and selected for this tale and task (a narrative product of our genes). We abide.
Recording “life” – an optional project at our disposal, and “communication” – a capacity shared. Let’s do this then, with “me” – teller, author, scientific artist; and “you” (all) – necessary “others,” listeners, readers, hearers, respondents. Composing and perceiving, interpreting, creating – the ways we get along and mean, “make sense of,” all that “happens”
as we’re “in it.”
as we “are it.”
We have begun.
And “long” ago, in its beginning – wherever (whenever) – that might be for any one of us. “Us” – that spreads the lying truth of it – that we are “We” and never “one” or “me” or “he” or “she” or “it” or “they” without the others. Simply being – substances and structures interactive in “their” ways…
We, the happening, as we perceive it.
What we make of it.
(Whomever we are).
Squirrel, fir tree, trout.
Stone, astronaut, wetness.
“We” – bound by our conditions.
[I’m glad we’re sharing] (he says).
THERE IS A BEAR
…and for her,
I held in my hands
a few hours, whom I gave back
only to keep holding the space where she ws,
a small fire in the rain*
2 thoughts on “A Narrative Construction”
* – Galway Kinnel “The Book of Nightmares”
An abacus, a wheel, motionless are not what they are. Learning to tie a shoelace ( tip of tongue between lips). Ordinary. Inordinate. A wonder.