“I am a leaf.”
That’s what Geri said, with a smile,
I have had intense dreams the past two nights.
Last night, I dreamed (with what seemed perfect clarity) about recent art and what it all means… insights (in the dream) in the middle of a war… exploding guns all around… enemies behind every door and bush… me: heroic and vulnerable.
The night before, I dreamed of my daughters… a dream with wishes for their futures built upon their pasts. More atmosphere than action, the dream dripped with longing, nostalgia, and love.
What were these all about?
Dreams have their own strange logic. So I find myself thinking about humility and hubris… action and inaction.
Being full of myself is so much emptiness. But more than that, it is destructive. It dishonors… denies… some other I can never really know in full.
In a recent essay in The New York Times, Simon Critchley writes: “We encounter other people across a gray area of negotiation and approximation. Such is the business of listening and the back and forth of conversation and social interaction.”
About the truth, beauty, and pain of incompletely knowing… about the limits of love.
“I am a leaf.”
That’s what Geri said, with a smile. She was referring to her participation in Autumn Leaves, the most recent (and personally consuming) project I am pursuing.
What does it mean to be a leaf in Autumn Leaves?
This is a project about recognitions and reflections, acceptance and celebration, about the splendor of who we are, flaws and all. Autumn Leaves is about being naked as a baby, fragile as a leaf.
An autumn leaf: worn away, glorious in shape and color. It is each of us.