It sits over my bed and helps me read, write, doodle. It is a soft light; it softens the blows I get or give myself. It suffuses me with warmth like an embrace in chilly weather.
It creates beauty against the wall. I touch the shade, burnished copper and frosted glass. I dislike bulbs, just bulbs, although one often has to live with those. As Blanche DuBois said in A Streetcar Named Desire, “I can't stand a naked light bulb, any more than I can a rude remark or a vulgar action.”
I have seen many naked bulbs, been with many naked bulbs…they hang from twisted wires loosely, their heat more crass than their light. I have in moments of recklessness touched them and felt my fingers singe. There is something so obvious, so déclassé, so disgustingly pushy, that I cringe for them. I wish I could take them away from the fate of being open sores, hawking themselves as givers of light.
True givers give. My lamp does not shout. It wears its clothes well. Remember, all that bares itself is not open. Often the exposed parts are merely exhibiting guile. When you are truly naked, then that nudity reaches out. You don’t have to try. It just touches a soul or caresses a feather; yes, we can caress feathers.
As the wonderful Tennessee Williams made my dear Blanche say, “I don't want realism. I want magic! Yes, yes, magic. I try to give that to people. I do misrepresent things. I don't tell truths. I tell what ought to be truth.”
Do I misinterpret? Some of my tangential moments might be seen that way. Just as some of what I say may not appear to be the truth; that is because facts don’t interest me beyond the point of their being there. I want to know where they will go from where they are. So, yes, I tell what ought to be the truth. From being to becoming in a seamless continuum.
Magic is not about pulling out colourful ribbons from nowhere but of finding a rainbow in the sun. You can because it is not possible to stare at it for long without colours dancing before your eyes.
That is truth. Naked eyes blinking at the different shades of light.
- - -
Revisiting an old post...gone...