Cloaked in Clay

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They say that a sculptor doesn’t create what she sculpts.  She only reveals what is already there in the medium.  I was not finding that to be true.  Either there was nothing to be revealed in the lump of clay that sat on the workbench before me, or I didn’t have the skill that a real sculptor is supposed to have.  The skill of sight.  The skill to see what it is that is seeking to be revealed in the medium.

Come on, I thought.  Reveal yourself.

*** Continue reading

The Flight of Flea

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When he was young and heard the stories of the mythical birds and flying beasts of legend, he imagined himself as one of them.  Powerful, ferocious, graceful, wise, and heroic.  He imagined that one day, he would grow up to be like Phoenix, with its flaming wings and healing tears.  He dreamed of being like Quetzlcóatl, worshipped by the two-leggers who otherwise ruled over all other beasts.  When he heard the stories of Garuda, he was Garuda, flying the ancient gods to and fro on their quests.  The thunderbird.  The trickster raven.  The creator heron known as Benu.

He was in awe of them all.  And he wanted to learn to acquire their qualities.  Cleverness, strength, knowledge.  And wings so magnificent that all creatures great and small were gripped with awe at their sight.

But whenever he would voice such longings, he was always ridiculed, for he was so small that all who knew him called him the flea bird, and soon that became his name, “Flea.” Continue reading

Anomaly Valley

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The grass is purple in that valley.  And the sky is green.  That’s how you will know that you have reached the entrance to the vault.

I never really expected those words from an ancient myth to guide me on this failed expedition.  And it was failed because even if I found the vault, even if I managed to enter it and lay my eyes on what lay within, I would never find my way out again. Continue reading

The Strange Chamber

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I brought a friend with me.  I wasn’t going into the abandoned factory alone.

Back in the day, people called it the “organ factory.”  The irony is that we have actual organ factories now.  Fabrication technology has spread farther than preservation technology ever did.  But there was a time when all we had was organ preservation.  A time when anyone who could extend the life of a donated organ by even just a bit could save lives that would otherwise have been lost. Continue reading

Inseparate

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I didn’t know much about conjoined twins, but when the professor in my embryology class mentioned the accident in cell division that led to the phenomenon, I remembered my first dream in life.  Before I dreamt of becoming a Noble-prize-winning biochemist.  Before I dreamt of meeting the love of my life.  Before I dreamt about traveling the world.  Before I dreamt about having a dog.  When I was just a kid.

I remembered wishing I were a twin. Continue reading