Leaving the Farm

After a week on the road with the band and my two transcendent weeks with Alice my travel companion mildly twists her ankle. We must depart.

I dissociate.

It is unfathomable to imagine not being in the company of Alice. She has folded me under her wing. She has wrapped me in a quiet and calm acceptance.

We are driven back to the bus station. I wear the sandals made by Sam, and carry his gift of the Tao Te Ching. Invisible to all, my spirit and my soul have been stamped with the imprint of Alice, the natural earth mother/artist.


The sky high corn stalks create an impenetrable corridor. The car crunches gravel and throws up a veil blocking any backward look. It weaves down the narrow canyon of a driveway. I stick my hand out the window so the large slender leaves can slap against my palms in an extended mournful goodbye. As the flashes of cool green chant their rhythmic farewell I make a silent promise that I will attempt to walk in the footsteps of Alice, my model of sanity, to the best of my ability, for the rest of my days.

As we move on down the road I randomly open the treasure of the Tao:

6
The breath of life moves through a slender valley
Of mysterious motherhood
Which conceives and bears the universal seed,
The seeming of a world never to end,
Breath for men to draw from as they will:
And the more they take of it, the more remains.



An artist's memoir in 2 chapters
Graphic done using Sumo