Las Rocas

A few years ago I sent one of my photos as a postcard to a friend of mine. It was a picture of a naturally fluid rock design gleaned from the red sands of the desert. When I got home to the Bean I paid my friend a visit. She is a wonderful and brilliant women - Harvard educated historian - who, despite frequent crass and cranky out-bursts, is an intellectual delight to chat with. After a quick hello she told me, straight-up, what she thought of my postcard: "Michael" she said "What the hell did you send me? That's the ugliest thing I've ever seen." What are you suppose to say to that? I don't remember the exact words that flew out of my mouth, but it was some kind of quasi-laugh, probably the half sigh, half laugh, half sound I sometimes make. That being that, she did appreciate the gesture, but she didn't see what I saw. And I wasn't really surprised. I was more amused then anything.

Before sending the postcard I thought long and hard about which picture to send her. It took some deliberation and careful thought. Within the image I decided on was a dancing rhythm echoing my perception of her. There is something strikingly beautiful about rocks, maybe its their infinite permanence, maybe it's their diversity. Maybe it's because they are another beauitful gift full of divine qualities. Regardless the reason, I feel my friend reflected these beautiful qualities. She had been pinned against the wall and would be fighting like a bull till her last breath. That made her cranky, and bitchy. But her heart is pure, and her soul is beautiful. And somehow an image of rocks in the desert reminded me of her. Rocks are the bed we rise from. I like rock formations and outcroppings, and especially rocks that rise from the water. Maybe there are others who feel as I feel. Maybe these rocks are the ugliest things anyone's ever seen. Either way it's neither here nor there, these are just angels of eye and I.