What Lies Beyond
The Beauty and the Ugliness
Joan Ann Lansberry.
January 14, 1999
Amethyst with agate 'flower', ©JAL,12-30-98. . ..
What Lies Beyond
Amethyst with agate 'flower', ©JAL,12-30-98. . ..
I got them at the annual gem and mineral shows in Tucson. It's almost that time of year again. The end of January, all the motel rooms along I-10 near the downtown are filled with dealers who use their rooms as a shop. Some dealers have huge tents set near to the street. The large dark amethyst was sold by a dealer 'direct from Brazil'. The round four and a half feet tall crates they were shipped in were stacked against one canvas wall. Small pieces were laid out on folding tables. Tall ones, some three and four feet high, were set out in a row, where they'd be seen by passerbys. I knew I was bypassing the middle men at this stand, avoiding the expansion of price with each intermediate sale. So I sought out the deepest purple piece I could afford.
The amethyst with agate flower was purchased at one of the shows at the Tucson Convention Center. It was not expensive, especially compared with the specimens available for thousands of dollars. 'Rock collecting' can be a hobby of the jaded rich. But perhaps my enthusiasm was obvious to the thin brown haired lady who dealt with me, and a bit refreshing. As she handed me the brown paper bag with the crystal wrapped up inside it, she smiled as she told me "Enjoy your treasure!"
I've gathered many memories, along with the tangible minerals. For more rock tales, see my entries of February 13, 1997 and February 7, 1998
The sky a few minutes later
© 1999 John Bailey
The deserts of Arizona are known for their sunsets, which have a hue rarely seen elsewhere. When I was fourteen, and painting a sunset scene for a watercolor class, I thought those intense vivid colors had been altered by the photographer. Surely no sky in reality was that bright. I learned differently when I moved to Arizona. Those sunset pictures I took the other day have not been altered in any way except for cropping and sizing.
I say that, lest someone think as I did when I was young. We in Arizona are unusually lucky , yet every place on the planet has its own special beauty. I clipped this magical snow dusted cobweb from the pages of John Bailey's Journal of a Writing Man, (January 22, 1999 entry). England, in which he lives, has a colder climate and snow that allowed a spider's web to become fragile artistry.
January 26, 1999I can imagine. For I remember another such bathroom wall. Over twenty years ago, I looked on the drab walls, after finishing my toilet. I was the one who wrote on it, with an angular and messy scrawl, yet a very similar plea. I was so depressed. My confusion and dispair grew with each day. I didn't know why. I stumbled about in the dark corrodors of my mind, frightened and feeling so alone. It was a way of making a prayer tangible. I didn't know if God could hear me. I didn't know if God cared. I didn't know if God was. Somebody was. Someone would see it. I didn't even consider what people using that particular stall after me would think. I thought perhaps if it could be seen by human eyes, maybe God would then see it, and answer. That's all I hoped as I opened the door and limped out into the world that lay beyond. Touch me through this print, taste me, know me, know I am real, know this now. Maybe that's what I was really saying. I know, too, this young woman with the neat circular handwriting is real. I pray good things touch her mind. I pray enough light for her corridors. Not enough to blind the eyes of one so used to darkness. Just enough. I pray. Make it so, Invisable Force I do not believe in. Make it so.
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