On my way to work on Valentine’s Day I tried to notice everything red. It became a solo game of “I Spy.” I made a list and then thought about each red thing and how it relates to me. Yes, it is possible to see one’s self in everything, even those inanimate relatives. Here is a 15-minute stream of consciousness, roughly the time it takes me to drive to work. I hope readers will be inspired to share their own red reflections in the comments.
The red things I saw: cactus, barn, mailbox flag, bird, sunrise, hat, cord.
Red cactus—Keep away. I need my space. Just let me be. Walk on by. Take a hike. Get lost. Walk the plank…. Notice how, only after you step back and glance sidelong, I reach out to you in my own spiny way.
Red barn, with windows gutted—I am old. I am hollow. Although they abandoned me long ago, I still stand. I didn’t give up when others did. I am quiet and await the sound of the swallows returning to my creaking eaves. I know they will come. Springtime. Patience is a red barn.
Red metal flag on a mailbox—How I love when my flag is up! I hold a letter, an outgoing letter, a love letter to someone special, or a sweet correspondence to an old friend. A heartfelt letter in a uniquely slanted handwriting. How I love my task, to make sure this letter gets from here to there, no matter how far. I can feel the weight of the thoughts on the page. The love and the pain. From me to you and back to me. Connected.
Red bird—I fly and fly and fly. I try and try and try. I go here and there, doing all my dailies. Eat, peck, work, eat, peck, sleep. How far can I fly? How far would I fly? How I love my nest, its tangled braids of grasses woven bit by bit, over time, with messiness, broken twigs, and songs.
Red sunrise—“Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning.” What colors can I bring to today that will allay the fears, worries, pains? Clouds painted pink and gold, a ball of fire that lights the way, day after day. I hold a prism of endless inspiration.
Red hat—Wool hat is warm like a womb or a whim. Protection from winter or boredom. Red woolen hat holds the head together, keeps all the thoughts percolating, safe and sound, or soundless and boundless.
Red cord of necklace from the Camino de Santiago on my dashboard—I remind you of a pilgrimage, the walk, the camino. I am the soul that walks on, even as you sleep or even after you die. I am the center of gravity as, footstep after dogged footstep, you plod. I hold you to the Earth, yet in your walking, connect you to the Ether. A white shell with a red sword, stabbing, carving the dirt with your hopes and dreams. Will you ever walk that walk? Some day you may.
