I have told this story many times but with different beginnings, middles, and stopping points along the way.
Jasmine flowers on the malecon, ringing a succession of small bells, putting pieces of rocks in my pockets, tucking herbs into my hat.
Bringing home essences of my planet home.
Constructing small spaces to sit and listen
Creating an environment between two people for some third thing to unfold.
What is in the mystery is in the mystery—
it stays there, in the other world.
It stays there, in the what is not shown in the picture,
what is not meant to be shared.
Magical missions, then.
Molecules of walking medicine who show up
when and where they please
by no accident
the world consciousness is in need of recovery.
What the picture doesn’t show is the road
what the picture doesn’t show is my current obsession with purple
what the picture doesn’t show is the years of question and guilt and hopefulness, curiosity, wonder.
what the picture doesn’t show is the name of the tree
what the picture doesn’t show is the real light
what the picture doesn’t show is not-knowing and not-knowing and not-knowing how.
watching animals wander through dreams
watching animals move in cages
watching animals run and swing through branches and swim and breathe air
watching animals climb trees like a tree highway
sitting with trees
asking trees questions asking for advice asking for mentorship
drawing with trees
collecting sticks like a child
collecting sticks with my child
becoming aware of what the tree is saying
affirming and reaffirming what the tree is saying
running errands for trees
collecting messages from trees, with intent to distribute
bringing the trees flowers and honey
bringing the trees in my hands