A big black cat, a young puma maybe, runs full tilt across a
paddock, off a wall up onto a roof into the arms of a young woman and mauls her
with all the wiggly glee of …. That’s where my description falters. I don’t
know that wiggly glee, the how of it. Maybe I’ve come close once or twice but
not that full body totality of joy expressed without thought for the expression
of it, convoluted without thought for gravity or the constraints of
constraints. I imagine an electricity to pure delight that fires muscles in a
symphony of movement, a wild jazz of tumbling notes, an unwritten sonata of
strength and gentleness, a firework of chaos. Perhaps I should have learnt less
in my gravity lessons. Perhaps in each and every one there was a hidden message
of constraint. So much was I caught in the mirror of reality I lost sight. I
mean of the un-reflected real. Perhaps in reflection I learnt restraint, in
tools, manipulation in these virtual images. And with it perhaps I lost
electricity. Imagine every moment of your life you responded clean of
reflection; jiggled, snapped, growled or purred, or slept as reality required.
No higher ideal than breath, that but for the addition of an ‘L’ perfection is
just an idea. Such a simple grandeur. And this is why I watched the puma time
and time again. It reminded me of electricity.
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