Horizon at Sandy Point

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Empty Hammock

Amerindians knew nothing of parabolas when they slung their simple bark fabric beds between two trees. Then, as dark settled sudden as a blink, and stars littered the heavens, they curled like commas and slept til the sky lightened again. Who knows what pattern of stars imprinted their dreams, suspended between earth and sky.

The hammock we are told, was a particularly clever invention. Made of bark or rope, it could be installed wherever or whenever convenient above the moist or muddy forest floor, beyond the reach of snake or scorpion, rat or roach.

Today, in a world of gadgets, machines, electronic inventions, it is an unnecessary and whimsical item, not worthy of being considered furniture. The hammock evokes trees, space unbounded, time beyond horizons, a pause, a suspension. To meditate on nothingness.

Most of the time, my hammock hangs empty, perfect curve, parabola of dreams.


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