This is a house in which folks see things. Rational, serious-minded family and friends; unexplainable things. Shadows with life. Movements in darkness.

We all see things. Everybody does. Things we don’t understand. Things that are not necessarily there in the accepted sense of “being there.” Things that walk or flutter at the edges of our vision…and sometimes in our full-out sight.

Whether this is imagination or true vision at work is debatable, I guess. But not by me. I am more than willing to let things be what they are. Whatever they are.

I have learned by personal experience not to be too concerned about these whatever-they-ares; certainly not to be afraid of them. I am perfectly happy to cohabit with moving shadows—as long as they don’t throw things or pull the covers tight over my head in the middle of the night. Energy, whether in the world or in the imagining, has as much right to be here as I do.

Movements in the dark can be instructive. One does not have to understand them to learn from them, these shadows that live. And in this acceptance is a very special learning.

These shadows, these movements, these whatevers can be doorways to the imagination; to borrowing something from one world that can be used in another. Last night, I found an image for the book that borders on the breathtaking. Found it in something I didn’t see—couldn’t see, by conventional belief.

Without the willingness to engage shadows, coupled with the reading I’ve been doing, I would not have gotten the image at all. Without the openness to shapes in blackness, I would not have been open to the possibility.

The uses of darkness, and the strange things we see in it, give the writer another color with which to paint the idea…if we can learn to face it without fear.

The shadows that move are gift horses into whose mouths we should not look. Even if those horses aren’t really there.

 

 

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