Dearest Ones,
You know how it is, when you are driving down the road, or washing dishes,
or even sweeping the porch, and maybe you hear a song- maybe the radio, maybe the neighbor’s garage, or maybe it even
flashes across your mind, and you are catapulted, rocketed, sent. You hear and see and you know that it is alright, and it’s truth
and it's beauty and it’s meaning. You know, in
this scrap of enlightenment, that it all fits together.
In this small minute, when you know-all and
understand-all, in this time driving down the road, and that slips away so suddenly,
I found a little message to myself. It was like this:
NPR’s news had come on, so I rolled the dial to the college station. The DJ
is an old college prof. of mine, and he said, in his bedroom voice, that here
was someone you just didn’t hear near enough of these days: Frank Zappa. And
the band played on, and later, when I was making a little object, an
almost-sculpture- darning tufts of wool onto a branch- I thought, of course! I am growing dental floss.
This clarity, from the sober light of the outside, may seem to you like satire; a lampoon, a
spoof; but I tell you sincerely, that the message of the music explained a fleeting
truth to me, and I wish it for you, too.
