Second thoughts

I might just be giving myself permission to change horses in mid-stream. I might. Ms. cardboard cone lady keeps talking to me. She is supposed to be one thing but she's screaming at me that she's another. At first I just ignored her, cardboard shouldn't speak after all. People who admit to hearing cardboard talk get sent places with padded walls- quiet, kid free, places with medication readily available....

She is supposed to be "The Keeping's", a work about the physical items we keep from childhood on and how we use them to define ourselves, correctly or incorrectly. "But look at me" she says. "I have a really cool shape with my long thin cone body ending in tiny shoulders and topped by a head tilted upwards. I already have a message. You don't have to shape one to me, it's there. Please don't distort me."

OK, I hear ya. All last night I have wandered past you, wondering how I would do your hair, what is the right answer- windblown? No, not you, you are more careful, more kept. Who are you? It is Valentine's Day, are you the Queen of hearts? You are somewhat regal....

So it hasn't come to me yet, the hair, the costume, her message or purpose, whatever she is. I am growing fonder of the idea of a secret garden hidden by her skirt. Perhaps a tree that disappears into the forest with one branch extending outwards to show the tiniest nest with the tiniest eggs waiting to hatch. Maybe like ladies of long ago she will have a birdcage woven into her hair. Maybe she's about being born free and trapping ourselves into our image.....ooooh, dark....oooh, I like....

And that's how it begins.