Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2002-10-15 04:48 pm
azurelunatic) wrote2002-10-15 04:48 pm
Cube visualization exercise
Where does it come from? Here.
Desert. It feels like AZ desert: flat caked ground, scrub brushes growing up all over the place, big cacti, lizards... there's the lovely collared lizard from the trip to the Petrified Forest. Lovely lizard.
Cube.
There's a large hole in the ground, a square hole, and when I climb down into that cool, slightly damp hole, I see a black cube, a cube within a cube, almost. Somewhere between glossy and lusterless, a smooth flat almost frosted black, of a varying size as I hold it in my hands. It is cool to the touch, glasslike. Water from my hands, from my sweat, condenses upon it.
Ladder. This was the ladder that I climbed down to get into the hole. It's an old ladder, but serviceable. It feels like the ladder climbing up to the loft from the cabin: wooden, 2x4, slanted for easier use. Stable and sturdy as long as it has a safe grounding, and the floor of the hole is plenty level. I can see where there might be splinters, if left out in the desert wind and dry long, but years of use have oiled it to safety, yet I still feel where the splinters will be, see the drying wood, cracking, solid but must be touched with care.
Horse. Oh, it's the Nef! Bahia Nefous, Beautiful Spirit, a light grey Arabian mare. She has a saddle and hackamore; she stands patiently on the ground above the hole, ground-tied, grazing at the bushes, and snorting some when not all of them are to her liking. She sniffs at a lizard, who looks back, then runs under a rock when she moves too suddenly. She was my sister's horse; she seems to be mine now. Only 14h 3", she's just barely not a pony, small and delicate. Well-groomed, but will be dusty upon return, as we'll be running for the fun of it.
Storm. Ooh, storm! Nice big thick black clouds, and the wind's picking up. I'm on the Nef now, with the cube, which is pocket-sized, a nice large pocket size, my cube, in my pocket. Oh my, we're going to have fun. There might be flash-floods, so we'd better stick to the hills, but oh! Riding in the rain! Dammit, no fair that it's not safe with the lightning! The wind's picked up, and we're going to be running all the way home, just as much as she wants to. Whee! Storm! It'll hit full force in about half an hour, and I'm going to have a time getting all the mud off Nefi when we get back in. Mm, and hot chocolate after.
Flowers. They're on the cacti, red and orange and yellow. Prickly pears and barrel cactus. Even the wild roses from home wouldn't seem so out of place, petals stirred and occasionally stripped by the rising wind. They're fairly near the hole; the desert is in bloom all over. A shadow's come over the ground; the clouds are still overhead; the worst of the storm (best of the storm) is off in the distance still, but the breeze is something to contend with. It's evening, about 1700, 1730, and I'd better eat half that granola bar now, and drink water, before I ride back. Ohh my. Perfect day. Beautiful.
The Secret
Desert. It feels like AZ desert: flat caked ground, scrub brushes growing up all over the place, big cacti, lizards... there's the lovely collared lizard from the trip to the Petrified Forest. Lovely lizard.
Cube.
There's a large hole in the ground, a square hole, and when I climb down into that cool, slightly damp hole, I see a black cube, a cube within a cube, almost. Somewhere between glossy and lusterless, a smooth flat almost frosted black, of a varying size as I hold it in my hands. It is cool to the touch, glasslike. Water from my hands, from my sweat, condenses upon it.
Ladder. This was the ladder that I climbed down to get into the hole. It's an old ladder, but serviceable. It feels like the ladder climbing up to the loft from the cabin: wooden, 2x4, slanted for easier use. Stable and sturdy as long as it has a safe grounding, and the floor of the hole is plenty level. I can see where there might be splinters, if left out in the desert wind and dry long, but years of use have oiled it to safety, yet I still feel where the splinters will be, see the drying wood, cracking, solid but must be touched with care.
Horse. Oh, it's the Nef! Bahia Nefous, Beautiful Spirit, a light grey Arabian mare. She has a saddle and hackamore; she stands patiently on the ground above the hole, ground-tied, grazing at the bushes, and snorting some when not all of them are to her liking. She sniffs at a lizard, who looks back, then runs under a rock when she moves too suddenly. She was my sister's horse; she seems to be mine now. Only 14h 3", she's just barely not a pony, small and delicate. Well-groomed, but will be dusty upon return, as we'll be running for the fun of it.
Storm. Ooh, storm! Nice big thick black clouds, and the wind's picking up. I'm on the Nef now, with the cube, which is pocket-sized, a nice large pocket size, my cube, in my pocket. Oh my, we're going to have fun. There might be flash-floods, so we'd better stick to the hills, but oh! Riding in the rain! Dammit, no fair that it's not safe with the lightning! The wind's picked up, and we're going to be running all the way home, just as much as she wants to. Whee! Storm! It'll hit full force in about half an hour, and I'm going to have a time getting all the mud off Nefi when we get back in. Mm, and hot chocolate after.
Flowers. They're on the cacti, red and orange and yellow. Prickly pears and barrel cactus. Even the wild roses from home wouldn't seem so out of place, petals stirred and occasionally stripped by the rising wind. They're fairly near the hole; the desert is in bloom all over. A shadow's come over the ground; the clouds are still overhead; the worst of the storm (best of the storm) is off in the distance still, but the breeze is something to contend with. It's evening, about 1700, 1730, and I'd better eat half that granola bar now, and drink water, before I ride back. Ohh my. Perfect day. Beautiful.
The Secret