BY THE GARDEN

Revealing or Concealing, they both are carved in the workings of desire. They both arise from an elemental longing for play. The way I see it, Revealing and Concealing form a unity. 

By casting a shadow on something, other objects are revealed. The reverse is also true. No need to complicate further this question. There is no possibility of playing without a blend of light and shadow.

When we start playing, there is a longing for lightness, and there is also a fearsome feeling of panic. By being light we find our real height, and we overcome fear. Lightness is a true revolutionary. By suffering from panic, we stay silent and quiet, and all those sacred things around us are conveniently preserved (this is why the system promotes panic so efficiently!). 

Each one has his/her nuance for fears, but being wrong, disappointing someone or being rejected are probably the crown’s jewels of fear.

Both lightness and panic can cause some vertigo, ranging from mild to unbearable, but only lightness will give you butterflies on your belly.

Lately, I have been enjoying the play of revealing and concealing. I wrote a little game as a way of proposal. A game with no rules, to be precise, since the playability of the game depends only on the playfulness of the player. Sometimes we have one definite player in mind, sometimes we leave that to chance. We make the rules as we go along.

I have recited a monologue for the world at large, but secretly aspiring to be seen only by the eyes than could understand, and eventually play along with me… Like a goldsmith, I have taken every word, made delicate calibrations on its power to reveal or conceal. Like a painter, I have stepped backwards to judge how a garment should fall to show more of a female shoulder, or to protect that shoulder from lustful regards.

Writing can be an exhilarating game, like anything we do that touches the borders of the unknown. I have lived in the delicate frontier between revealing and concealing, drawing shadows and blazing lights like the ones the wanderer in my story had to face in his quest.

I may have found what I need to keep playing, to maintain that fire of my own lightness. One never knows, since the participants of the play have their own nuances, visions and desires. Just like fictional characters, they have a volition of their own (plus, they are not fictional). That area of uncertainty is, perhaps, the great beauty of the play.

All I wish is to land in my garden and feeling light and simple again. Reading my book, inhaling the flowers... perhaps being pulled out of my thoughts by a greeting.

Sándalo Naranja