When I close my eyes, I see green. Green like lush grass, velvety smooth to the touch. With my eyes closed, I see the world as a speck among fresh blades blowing in the wind. I’m not alone here, in this forest of grass. The skipper caterpillars and grubs crawl beside me. They are thrice my size, but we live in a kind of mutual symbiosis. There is no urge to kill. Up close, they are more majestic than vexing.
When I close my eyes, I don’t smell anything but earth. A resemblance to the smell of rain on sidewalk after a storm, but without the cement. There are no buildings of brick, no whirring and buzzing of tools, no noise but psithurism—the sound of wind in trees, of rustling leaves. I love this place, how small and tickled and content it makes me feel to just be—without purpose beyond survival. I don’t want to wake up.
—fiza
Prompt from #TheIsolationJournals, a 30-day creativity project to help make sense of these challenging times. Join in!
DAY 06. - Lou Sullivan
(with his mom Alexa Wilding)
My six-year-old son, Lou is no stranger to quarantine. At one-year-old, he was diagnosed with a rare form of pediatric brain cancer. After four years in remission, Lou relapsed last spring and we spent much of last year cooped up in a hospital room, gloved, gowned and masked, so bored we were talking to the Purell dispensers. During the worst of it, when Lou could barely move and I couldn’t write a word, he came up with a game called ‘Inside Seeing’ that saved us both.
“Close your eyes,” he said, “and tell me what you see!” “Ugh, nothing?” “No, mama, really look. Inside!” We lay together in the hospital bed, closing our eyes until shapes and light flecks began to form behind our eyelids. “I see fireworks,” I said. “I see a monster,” Lou said, “but he’s actually nice.” After our journeying, Lou would draw what he saw, and I scribbled down ideas, amazed that my bald six-year-old was now my personal shaman and writing coach. “What’s it called when stars make pictures?” “Constellations?” I guessed. “Yes! I see constellations. The lines are a jungle gym, and we’re going to climb all the way back home.”
A few months later, we did make it home. Lou’s condition is finally stable. Last month he joined his twin brother, West, back at school, only to have COVID-19 force us back to a way of life we know all too well. We’ve been playing a lot of ‘Inside Seeing’ to pass the time, and Lou thinks you should try it, too.
Your prompt for today (From Lou):
Okay, close your eyes. Maybe lie down so you’re cozy? A blanket is nice. Okay. What do you see? At first, it’s dark in there. But if you really look, you will start to see pictures. Maybe it’s a bear with claws, or an ice cream cone, or a memory. Like, cuddling your mom. Maybe it’s words, like LOVE or DANCING. Sometimes it’s just tickly lights. Whatever you see, write about it. Really explain it until it becomes a story. I like to draw what I see, too.