Thursday, July 29, 2010

The Meadow Within

An iconic image from the sixties: Two lovers, hair long and billowing in the breeze, running in slow motion across a field waist high in flowering grass. The scene ends with them both leaping into the arms of the other. And what was the backdrop for this fevered embrace? A meadow, of course.

Imagine the same lovers meeting in a similarly hungered embrace beneath the canopy of a tropical jungle or on the sands of a white hot desert (or heaven forbid, along the trafficky streets of an urban square or the manicured yards of suburbia even): This would never do.

The meadow is the archetype of our dreamscapes. After the archetypal white sandy beach it might be our second choice for a hypnotic mental retreat. Unlike the faraway beach it's not exotic; it represents the possible.

And now it appears to have followed us inside.

The meadow may be a chair, a dress, or the floor. It holds us as we break bread together and warms us in the cold.

A backdrop for making plans, making conversation, or making love. (The bed may be just down the hall but the rug is so inviting.)

A meadow motif in the bathroom to elevate the spirit and inspire retreat.

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