who is very intelligent,
interesting,
an out-of-the box sort of person.
He was writing poetry at four.
I saw a film with him
last Saturday night.
At the "indie" theater
which is just a breath away
from my Sante Fe style home
in the Village of Pavoreal.
The Tree of Life it was:
unique,
original,
controversial.
It opened with twenty-five
minutes of images
depicting
Creation.
Followed by the story
of an ordinary Texas family
living out their lives
in the fifties and sixties.
Ending with another twenty-five
images (and more story)
of the
Afterlife.
My grandson liked the film.
His comment as we left the
theater.
"I think the images were like a
rorschach test. Each of us could
see only what we could see."
When I got up this morning
I found myself reflecting
on his thought.
I looked into my back yard
at the quiet pool,
the busyness of the water fall,
the sunlight glinting off
the tall trees
above the wall,
the graceful drape
of wisteria on the arbor,
the sere, sunwashed faces
of the boulders,
the end of season
faded flowers in their
pots,
the tired cushions
resting on the lawnchairs,
the lantern standing sentry,
by the bar-b-cue.
And I wondered
"Is it all a rorschach test?
Do we all see only what
we can see?
And even more important
what we don't."
