‘THE INDIGO PEARL’
A snippet from ‘THE INDIGO PEARL’
[ My old robin friend flew into the mouth of the cave, and I followed, through the hall of the birds and past the paintings of horses on the walls. I expected to hear the sound of stampeding mustangs, but no, I heard the gentle drip of water and the whinnying of a wild herd, lured into captivity from the primordial mist that greeted me on the other side. ]
AI = AUTISTIC INTELLIGENCE… ‘STATE OF THE ART’ TIME TRAVEL JUST BECAME TRANSCENDENTAL
When I was born my wings were too small to defend themselves… as if a white butterfly had alighted between my shoulder blades.
Within the hour, they withered and fell like rose petals. At least, that’s what I assumed. But I was mistaken. They were folded tightly into an invisible bud, dreaming. And sometimes, when tropical breezes stir the treetops or I track a flock of geese across the sky, my phantom wings quicken and purr. When I’m angry, they bristle and hiss. It’s as if I’m carrying a kitten on my back.
I belong to the air… all humans do.
We share a deep-seated fear of being caged. We are instinctive homing pigeons. Birds awaken deep ancestral memories of flight in us. They evoke the inherent joy of weightlessness and summon primal dreams of riding a perfect updraft in the clear blue. And even though you may have forgotten your natural habitat, you subconsciously display your inbred bird personas. I am a devoted human-watcher, and before you utter a single word, I see yours in plain sight.
A robin was my first friend. In my earliest years, I was treated like a dodo which led me to believe I was an ugly duckling. I was considered backward – an ‘indigo child’. But after I fell in love with a boy in a painting, my wings woke up and I became a swan.