I wish conversation could be three dimensional. But the spoken sentence, in its need to convey information concisely, is one dimensional and arrives in a linear trajectory. There is no art for expressing what lies beneath our words; the other meanings that contradict what we say but that we also mean at the same time in conjunction with what we just said to the contrary. The shadow is missing from our words. English, the language of commerce, is built from signs. All it can do is point to meaning-but it is not its own meaning and so our conversations are nowhere-we are just lonely travelers looking for a market where we can exchange our goods.

If we spoke poetically conversations would be real experiences. Poetry, rich in metaphor and symbol leaps over the rational. Poetry is not limited by the strict necessity of exchanging concise measurements of understanding. Then, if we could dance while we spoke and spoke in poetry, perhaps we would be truly alive when we conversed, not just signers on the road to some distant possibility of exchange; the business of getting to know each other.

I find myself wanting to be quiet. Like Rimbaud I could abandon poetry and just sail away to really live. But the modern in me thinks I might instead engage everyone I know with rhymes and gestures. If it's beautiful and full of energy, it wouldn't be so eccentric and strange, would it? Could it really be the evolutionary normal, and this old flat process we continue to utilize-could that be what's really strange?

________________________________________________________________________________________ This Image "Cyan Abstract" Collage element become digital painting. Elena Ray Copyright 2007

Cyan Abstract