Bear Watering

“The bear is in love: you can see it by the curve of his left wrist as he holds the watering can over the stream, concentrating so that each pad will receive the right amount of water from the silvery shower that descends so intimately from its spout.” Anita Sullivan

The Highest Cauldron

by Anita Sullivan

EUGENE Oregon—(Weekly Hubris)—9/10/2012—A bear is watering lily pads in the rain. With his right paw, he holds an umbrella over his head. The lily pads are already wet on both sides, from the river and from the light drizzle misting down through the trees. The bear is in love: you can see it by the curve of his left wrist as he holds the watering can over the stream, concentrating so that each pad will receive the right amount of water from the silvery shower that descends so intimately from its spout.

If this were happening in conjunction with a performance of C.P.E. Bach’s Magnificat, the whole thing would become perfectly clear.

The bear moves very slowly along the bank, occasionally shifting umbrella and watering can to opposite paws. The music soars between molecules of rain as they sift down grey and blue over the river, with the sun making irregular entrances through various gaps overhead, so that the place under the tree where the bear stands is patchily illuminated by remnants of flung light. Everything here is porous.

Except (probably) the bear, who, being a silhouette, embodies a different kind of substance. Thus we need the music, to knit and sort realities. But, mostly, to precipitate love—a love that reds the air without in the least showing itself in the landscape. And has crept into the fifth dimension. And lies there enfolded, invisible but fully present, able to turn freely inside space as if angled to catch its own constant disappearing.

Note: This meditation comes in response to “Der Dandy Mit Dem Grünen Daumen,” an illustration from “Lord Brummel” by Rudi Hurzlmeier (Rudi Hurzlmeier; rudihu(at)t-online.de;www.hurzlmeier-rudi.de). Photo used by permission of the artist.