BANYAN BRAIN BIKE
Page the dog, is a herding animal. When she wants to eat, she pushes you into the kitchen. When she wants to go out, she pushes you out the door. When she wants to play, she puts the ball on your lap. When she wants to sleep she pushes you into the bedroom as you walk. Sometimes I think life is trying to do this us only we don’t see the signs. All we see is how we may or may not be pushed and decide whether or not to follow.
Yesterday was no different as Page had her way with me. Up early to go to the bathroom. Up early to eat. “Take me to the park, I want to run with other dogs and sniff other people who I do not belong to. Then take me to grandma’s.” I did as she asked for I had no choice. Then I chose to drop her off at home and get my haircut. I was free I tell ya… free!!!
As I drove downtown to the new location of my old salon, there was an accident on the road. So deep inside my head I was, that I moved like molasses among the rest of the crowd, staring as we passed. Apparently someone had been riding their bike and had gotten hit by a car. The bike rider was laying in the middle of the road and the driver of the vehicle was also traumatized from his smashed windshield.
I passed the horrible scene and drove on. After all this had nothing to do with my day and I had to get my haircut. Once parked in front of the shop, I sat in the car and felt stupid. I feel this way a lot. Why didn’t I pull over at the accident? I had my camera in the trunk. Maybe it was my destiny for the day to shoot that scene. Maybe the pictures I would have taken at that moment would have made me famous! Made me important because of how I’d capture it?
But alas, the moment had passed and I was back to the potential of ordinary. Dumb and ordinary, as my appointment was 45 minutes later than I thought it was. Double dumb, I took out the camera and wandered for a bit before the trimming of what grows outside my head.
Down the road were two homeless kids and their dog. They were free too, only in a different way. Everything they owned was rolled in a green sleeping bag and contained in a black and white check backpack. She was heavily pierced and he was heavily tattooed. Again awestruck by the happy, healthy and wealthy homeless, the richest people in the world, in need of nothing, as they had each other and a dog.
They knew nothing of what was going on elsewhere. Young, dirty and beautiful, the full measure of their life at each moment goes into one single kiss.
Time to go back and get groomed. As Nikki the hairdresser combed and cut and washed and massaged and shampoo and conditioned and cut some more and washed some more and combed some more.
On the inside of my head a different thing was going on. Inside my head I wandered deep into the forest of my mind.
Peering through the trees and branches of thought that resembled stretching nerves cells, I wandered and wondered. Who are these people who create their world? What drives them to live on the street in bikinis? When do they see that clear focused spot in the distance that they know is where they are supposed to be?
Deeper into my mind I traveled. Into the dark places where strange shapes flicker light and reveal negative space. Am I above it or below it? Is it a branch or a root? What makes such a dark gnarled twist, that would repulse others, look so attractive to me? Why am I drawn in by the shiny bark of knot?
Overlapping branches and pathways growing in random directions. Clear focused spots in the distance. Who determines what drops strait down and what crawls across?
Drippy webs of thought stretch down from great heights and take root. Some form a nest to catch the next great idea.
Sexy wrapping vines on thick smooth tree trunks. A pasture of green sparks growth, transition and change.
Watercolor drips background to crisp spiky moss. Seen from new directions makes me wonder where I am. Am I lost inside my mind or am I inside someone else’s mind creating me.
Twisting the view of the warm soft moss on the hottest day, I make it cold and pointy like frozen icicles during a winter storm.
Suddenly, a light goes on in my mind and I start thinking about those compelled to create. Do they look for the random in the control? Do they apply the raw to the polish? What is the craft that they are forcing into existence? Did they discover it while searching for something else? When did they commit to the insanity that belongs to them?
Somewhere out there a man dedicates his life to miniatures. He leaves the world he lives in to create a universe within his control. He becomes responsible for the nationality of the waiter, the clothing choice of the sailor, the condiments on the table and the expression on everyone’s face.
Drama ensues. A man doesn’t like the meal. He stands and objects to the flavor. He’s pissed and want’s everyone else to know it. He encourages anyone else that feels the same way to take a stand. “This food tastes like crap!”
Meanwhile, the circus is in town and the most important message to communicate to the crowd is what any clown thinks… “…what every girl should know.”
A family who works all the time decides to take a break and see the circus. A memory is created that will last a lifetime. Maybe this child will be so awestruck by the event of the circus that he will grow to manhood and dedicate his life to creating miniatures of every detail that occurred that day. Everything within his view and all that existed beyond what he could see. Maybe this boy will become possessed with this vision.
In a flash of inspiration this miniature artist decides to ship some packages to a place that is unfamiliar to most and stunningly familiar to others.
And for the grand finale, a magnificent and magical man will come forward and cast a spell. Slowly back out of your brain. Slowly come back out away from the circus. Come back out through the trees and roots of your mind. Back out from the tropical moss made into ice. Come all the way back out to your first thought before you entered this world of the strange and bizarre.
No worries. It’s okay that you missed that shot way in the beginning, because you can take it now.
Apparently someone had been riding their bike and had gotten hit by a car. The bike rider was laying in the middle of the road…
Barry Stein's Blog 
Holy crap! Why don’t you have a skillion followers?! You are amazing. Your images are amazing. The way you weave a tale and intertwine pictures is incredible. I am following you! Ah, you are new here. Not bad for under 6 months! Do you have a twitter account? Would LOVE to be able to promote you more. You. Are. Awesome-sauce.
I love this comment. It’s officially one of my favorites.
I meant it sincerely. Do you tweet? If so, what is your twitter handle? You need more exposure to other creatives!
Also, add tags like photography and relationships and art. If you haven’t been Freshly Pressed, you should learn the tags that will get you there.
Okay. I’m adding the tags you suggested, but how do I find out how to be featured in Freshly Pressed? Where in Rochester are you? BTW I’m heading up there for daughter number 2’s wedding in a few weeks!
Being Freshly Pressed is like crack. Once it happens, you are hooked to blogging forever. But you need to know the right tags. Search under WordPress Support for categories or tags. You want to use those to get noticed! Good luck to you!
Listen to Renée! 🙂