Copyright 2010 Roberta Osborn. All rights reserved.

Dreams of the Borderland

Amusement

I am at a business luncheon. I peer down the table, but it is so long I cannot see the other end.

There are many important people here. I expect this to be a business-like occasion, and I am on

my best behavior, but everyone is in and out of their seats, talking in silly voices, imitating famous

people. The waiters and waitresses are performing sleight-of-hand, darting in and around with

vanishing and reappearing drinks and food. I simply do not know what to do, so I keep my mouth

shut and watch. Eventually something tells me I am just not getting it, like I am not contributing in

class.  I ring the side of a glass for attention. "This is a special dance to the rhythm of my washing

machine," I say, and I begin a sort of hula dance, like the action of the washing machine agitator,

stepping slowly back

and forth around in a

circle, swiveling my

hips with my arms up.

I am enjoying being a

clown. Everyone who

can see this falls back

in their seat laughing.

I am laughing myself

as I sit down. Now I

am in the proper

mood for this event,

whatever it is.

I am playing with

colored paper. I cut

shapes and place

them this way and

that until I find a look that makes me happy, then I glue them down. I feel the flow of creation

pouring through me in this simple activity. I make funny shapes, lime-green whirligigs, fuchsia

stars, apricot sea weed. I am totally absorbed in this activity for a long time, conscious only of

breathing and thinking. The world is safe, and warm, and fresh around me, and my friend is there,

but this is all I am aware of. I come to realize that I have made a tricky discord in the design. I

puzzle over this, trying out shapes and colors this way and that. Eventually, I make several

tangerine arcs in different sizes. Placing these carefully, I find a dynamic balance, and the entire

composition starts to dance in many colors. My friend says "So undoing the bad move is not

always the most interesting solution." We begin to understand the benefit of patience and

tolerance, and we smile.

I am looking at a glossy green leaf. It is precisely heart-shaped, infinitely detailed. The edge is

serrated in tender little arcs. The veins in the leaf divide and subdivide to bring nutrients to every

living cell. I occupy a cell briefly. It is a factory of little sparkling green engines, absorbing

sunshine, pumping fluids, spinning gases, doing all the heavy lifting of the world. I look up the

trunk to the dense canopy. I see other trees arching, stretching upwards to the same dazzling

sun, then suddenly the entire forest emerges, massively present, from my inspection of its leaves.

The forest is a great, silent powerhouse, somehow in touch with other forests. I extend my

awareness to embrace the world. It emerges now, decked out in a mosaic of flashing silver

forests and glittering green seas, wrapped in its cloak of gossamer clouds. I am deeply peaceful

in anticipation, ready, now, to make something from the joy and willingness and energy that the

world provides.

It is an unexpectedly cool day in August. The blue sky is awash with thin clouds, and the air is the

freshest its ever been. The birds and bugs sing and buzz without interruption, just as they would

on warmer days. The air is in constant gentle motion. I am walking down a hall of giant

sunflowers, in the shade. The ground is still cool and damp from the night before. The row curves

out of sight in the distance. The sunflowers are taller than I am, and they present themselves like

soldiers for inspection with bowed heads, leaves like arms to right and left. A crow that has been

perching atop a flower makes some remark, lifts off slowly and is soon out of sight. I continue

down the row, wondering at the perfection of each spiral plate in its ring of golden petals. I come

to an empty spot, another path, and as I turn to follow it, I see baby chicks running in and around

the stalks. I scoop one up and peer into its tiny little face, its perfect little eyes stare right back at

me. It is beginning to fledge and the tips of its new feathers bristle out through the softest yellow

down. Its little toes grip my palm. I set it down gently. It scampers off, and I continue my walk

more carefully than before.

I follow new paths, and soon realize that regardless of what decision I make about which way to

go, I am somehow spiraling in to the center of the field, tracing a path through a grand design like

the face of a sunflower, directly home. At last I reach the center, where I find a comfortable-

looking wooden lawn chair. The sun is directly overhead. I sit down in the chair and put my feet

up. I close my eyes and turn my face up toward the sun. I am drenched in the warmest, gentlest

sun rays in the midst of my cool green army. Little living things are scampering about, minding

their own business. I am totally at peace. The crow finally flies in to settle on the chair at my feet.

He adjusts his wings a little. He chuckles and says, "I knew you would get here sooner or later."