Wavey Days

Some days the shimmer of the sun across the water seems to make the air itself wavy and hazy. The world around you takes on a dreamlike effect, reality bends and distorts and you can almost see across and around time. August is often like that, with air that bends and light that flows around cracks, so that the world seems more open to possibilities, more able to admit your dreams through a hole into space and into your life.

The way that August bends light, reminds us that the ordinary workaday way we see the world in terms of unchanging angles and shapes, solid blocks, planes and spheres, is more fluid that we might think or can imagine. The wavy light that flows across impossible angles, that makes cars seem like modern art and roads like M.C. Escher shapes going on into forever, is the light of our imagination.

The Wavy Days of August, the last stop on the express train through summer and into fall, that combination of speed and slowness, the sense of hanging on the edge of a great thrilling precipice that we otherwise only see from surfers speeding along the edge of a wave or hanging on for dear life as the rollercoaster takes us up and around, under and over, in and through, past laughter and screams through an experience whose aftermath reminds us that sometimes it takes a different perspective to shock our senses and show us there is another way.