Don Mann: Focusing on my Craft

Thursday, Jun. 10, 2004 - 8:48 p.m.

It's a beautiful day, and my friends are walking with me along the sparkling seashore, the luminescent sand dotted here and there with dark, splotchy flotsam. Maybe Chris and Dean speak to me of the beauty of diamonds, how their surface reflects a tiny beam of light, perhaps Chris reveals to me how this spot of light illuminates a part of something inside of him, bringing to light the dark in his soul. I nod, knowing of the diamonds I have seen in the past, and perhaps I am lost in the scenery, or the endless ocean stretched out before me out to the vanishing point on the horizon to which all reality seems to direct my attention. There is even a chance that the helpless cry of the seagulls diverts my concentration, and I find myself lost in their endless circles which they draw in the sky above us with their fragile forms. I am uncertain of my distraction, but I am certain that I am distracted.

So the conversation turns, and twists around our psyches, weaving in and out of our defense mechanisms, flitting here and there among the debris of memory and trauma, like the sandflies at our feet which hum and oscillate around our ankles as we wade through them on the shore of this our own sacred beach, with its holy orb hovering golden and omnipotent above us. It seems to live and breathe against a stark blue sky which offers husbandry for a boarder for just ten hours a day before unceremoniously casting him out upon that invisible horizon.

Perhaps I notice all of this then, or not. All I know is that Dean has attracted my attention to a peculiar looking rock at my feet. He speculates its origin, and relates back to the earlier topic of diamonds, insisting it IS one. I ignorantly kick it aside, granting it my full attention for just that moment when it sends waves of pain and shock into my toe, and I wince and take another look. I limp over to it, and maybe Chris and Dean exchange a look at one another, a look of parental precognition, like a couple watching their toddler stroking the new puppy in the household. Perhaps not. I don't know, because I now have the stone firmly gripped in my hands, and as I turn it over in my palm the sun catches it, a tiny beam of light pierces deeply into my eye, through the lens, through my brain, directly into my soul. I feel its luminescence fill me to the brim with warmth and light, and if my introspection was at its best I almost believe I could use this tiny stone to survey my own subconscious. Mystified, I clutch the rock, and perhaps the sun began to drop in the sky, perhaps Chris and Dean have moved on, maybe the sea has all but evaporated away with the tide's drop. I don't know, because I have seen the beauty of the diamond.

~~~~

Thank you for explaining the beauty of diamonds to me, Dean and Chris...perhaps I'll post a followup explaining this post a bit more, or perhaps I'll remain here, staring at this stone.

Delve Into The Past - Onward Into The Future