~*~
INSTRUCTIONS FOR READING:
Gently form your tongue into a point. Now, firmly place it into the side of your cheek.
YOU MAY CONTINUE READING
~*~
As a child I could easily suspend reality and believe that a flying bear in my dreams could sprinkle fairy dust over me, and then taking my hand float me away from my sadness. Flying over the familiar dry fields that surrounded my home in California was an effortless and very real thing to do. I believed without hesitation that my toys came to life when I wasn’t looking, and when a bit older, that the stories on the Twilight Zone must have some basis in truth.
Toy Story is a perfect example of this animistic view. The sense that objects can move unbidden, for good or evil intent, is a natural phase of our growth and understanding of what is real or unreal in our natural world. When we are very young we are certain that our toys can move and objects that scare us can come to life. Then when we were about 7 to 10 years old we knew better, and yet, we could freely suspend reality to get into a good fantasy and believe, if for only a while, that it was true.
I am a grown-up. And although I am certain that the truth of the matter is this:
Inanimate objects do not move or have life.
I nevertheless do imagine it at times.
And I ask you:
Is a flight of fanciful imagination now and again such a bad thing?
Disney certainly never believed it was a detriment to our maturity.
Anaisa Franco doesn’t think so either. In her feature on the Creators Project she seeks this very thing. She brings life to her thoughts and the inanimate objects she creates through her art.
For my taste she borders on the scary side of animism, but I still like her work!
This video keeps disappearing on me, I don’t have any explanation for it, the code just spontaneously combusts! If it happens again, then please go HERE to view it on Youtube. Thank you! 🙂
~*~
And so it is, that I still carry some vague notion that my little statues in the garden are somehow endued with a life that is unseen. And although I have never really seen them move, save through the eyes in the back of my head… I do enjoy these fantastical slips into childhood, and then pen them to paper in my stories.
For over ten years I have had a little trio of friends in my gardens. They are a lion I named Aslan, and a mother squirrel with baby. They traveled almost 3,000 miles with me from California when we moved.
Over the years the little guy happily sat with his mother in the shadow of Aslan. Knowing no fear he stood bravely by when the Big Dog came barking and growling fiercely at him and his mother. He remained stalwart when taking insults from the other squirrels, who often pushed him over, and then waited patiently for me to come by and set him right again.
And so it was this morning, that I was taken aback when I found my little squirrel’s head laying crushed in the stone drive.
He is not real,
He is plastic,
and yet I find him eerie to look at in this state.
He was a good little squirrel and I shall miss him in the gardens.
~*~
What do you imagine happened to Rocket?
Your version can be firmly rooted in reality or you can take the fantasy stance. It is your choice.
~*~
NOTES: In my writing I freely use animistic, and animism to relate to my childhood feeling that inanimate objects could move under their own power, and thus had a life of their own. In one sense of the word, Merriam Webster defines it in this way:
“[the] attribution of conscious life to objects in and phenomena of nature or to inanimate objects”
Life on the Farmlet 
Uh – I still talk to my Raggedy Ann doll. And in the post I just threw up today, I talked about a paperweight living on the corner of my desk and engaging in an old occupation. 😉
I’m sorry about the squirrel. It looks like vehicular manslaughter to me, but it’s a sad end no matter the cause!
Thank you for that, Linda! I sometimes wonder if at my age I shouldn’t give up these quirks of fantasy, but I doubt I ever will.
Yes, it is a sad ending for any squirrel, real or plastic.
Inanimate objects do have vibrations, and it is vibration that holds everything together in the material world. I’ve experienced two types of vibrations from inanimate objects. Giving and receiving. I have a stone sculpture of a baby bunny I found years ago at a flower shop in Santa Barbara. At our new home I placed it inside our east garden gate so I could see it from our computer room window. I would often gaze at that bunny and wish it were real. Our power of intention when focused on an an inanimate object is a powerful giving thing in the world of vibration. It is the stuff of which prayers are made and answered. Two years ago a baby abandoned bunny entered our garden right where my stone bunny was. He is still with me today, my darling Cinnabun. On the receiving end of inanimate objects I’ve experienced the healing vibrations from different stones. Paying attention to the different vibrations is tangible and real. Our precious earth has much to share if we are quiet enough to receive it. The most powerful vibration I’ve felt was from a piece of walnut wood. It had been fashioned into a harp. The vibrations from the wood in that harp heightened my own bodily vibration so much the first time I played it I saw my own aura and was looking out into the world through a field of blue light sparking with shimmering stars. I was stunned. I played other harps near it in the store, some the same make and model, but only that harp heightened my vibration into the world of vibration normally out of our range. That harp is now by my bedside. Once you have experiences like this you realize there is no such thing as an inanimate object. Everything created by our Lord is very much alive.
I remember you talking about your harp and how it helped you to heal. It is a magnificent instrument! I do miss hearing you play.
You have such a gift, Kathee.
P.S. I am so sorry for your little squirrel. I do wonder about its story. The first thing that comes to me is that you have found your new farmlet, so it was time for him to leave.
Even so! Maybe he was on his way to explore the world and got in the way of the tires. Poor Rocket.
You know this conversation has reminded me of your neighbor across the street… Does she still have her yard packed with Tchotchkes? Has she replaced the ones that passers by took when the car crashed into her fence? 😉
She passed away last year, Lynda. Before she passed she had replaced her broken fence with a growing collection of bird houses, the ones on decorative poles. Apparently the inside of her home was as packed with tchotchkes as her yard. Her daughter held an estate sale and it went on for 3 solid days with cars lining the blvd all day long every day. I think some folks loaded up, unloaded, and came back. There wasn’t any room for Paul and his harp students to park. It was a mad house out there. I thought of you! Her daughter is living there now. There are some things in the yard, but it’s much more controlled!
Aw! Too sad.
Kathleen’s comment reflects much of how I feel about our world, our universe. Lynda, I am always intrigued with your writing, and especially with the storytelling (these 100 word essays in particular) where you create interesting and unusual situations with your imagination. I think I know you, and then you surprise me with something deeper and surprising… I feel I maybe just see the tip of the iceberg! You’re an amazing person, Lynda. I love reading all of your work, be it reality or fantasy!
Lori, your comments mean a lot to me. I’m often not certain that my writing is good enough, but your comments make me feel good about it. Thank you! And it is fun to know that I keep you guessing too! 😉 (BTW, Kathleen ~ Kathee to us, is Bob’s sister! I think you two would get along really well if you ever get a chance to meet! 😀 )
Nice to meet you, Lori!
What a fantastic post. And that sculptor – amazing! Yes and I too believe in magic.
Julie, thank you! My favorite part of the sculptor’s work is the two talking heads! I would have loved to listen to more of their conversation. 😉