This morning we rose with the sunlight. (The alarm, inadvertently in sync with the rotation of the earth.)
The sky burned like embers behind the mountain’s peak. A colour so intense, touching everything around with a strawberry glow. The natural way of things appeared enchanted and for those few seconds I felt inspired again. Touched if you will.
When the world around you glows it’s hard to ignore it.
I had just moments before been dreaming. My father was there going through his estate with me and my brother. Telling us the origin of all the artefacts and showing us old photo albums. A dream so simple – no need for interpretation. To have him there to help us through this, there could be no deeper irony. A feeling of safety and familiarity like it had once been, a lifetime ago.
We invent gods in the images of our parents. To look over us and protect us and teach us the ways of this confusing planet. The feelings are primal, preverbal, immediately recognisable. Like coming home.
I lifted from this illusion and stepped back onto solid ground to find the world was not so mundane after all. It is this world ablaze with sunlight, set on fire with fury and war, ignorance and beauty, love, compassion and loss…
This world. This Earth. This dirt.
There are no answers… Except in dreams.
