Scribbler's Cafe: I am not one who sees visions, but...

Friday, June 16, 2006

I am not one who sees visions, but...

A week ago, riding the Rokko liner back to the mainland, I peered into the dark churning water of the shipping canal and imagined that I saw the water turn white and break and the leaping, twisting form of a humpback whale burst into the air, then slide into the water and disappear again so quick.

I smiled to myself to be graced with such a lucky sight. I checked left and right to see if the other riders saw it too. Of course, the people on either side of me were not smiling, simply staring and swaying as the train rolled along. The vision was only mine. There was no whale. I am simply missing my land and sea of origin.

For a moment, my mood became heavy and ponderous. We crossed over another dark and violent water passage. Unbroken, but now thick with mystery. Just because what lies beneath the surface fails to reveal itself, does not mean that it is still and inactive.

Such grim foretelling. I gained a strong sense of things lurking beneath the surface. I spent a week in waiting, watching out of the corners of my eyes for the hidden blow, for the force that would sweep me off my feet again.

Last night, so soon, I caught a window full of whales. I was three stories up. It was night in Osaka and a torrential downpour curtained the city. The man sitting next to me said the words that were months too late and I turned away from him, my eyes falling on the wide plate glass window above the bar, suddenly full of movement and action. The whales. Not just one, an uncountable number. Jumping and falling and pirouetting like in a ballet.

I thought, Oh, so there they are. And then I excused myself, went down the long staircase and out onto the sidewalk. I turned my face upward to see the tails, but all I caught was a mouthful of rain.