I am not sure which came first, cars, jeeps, motorbikes or push bicycles, but it’s safe to say that there must have been a time where Police Constables had to get by on foot. When the first machines came, it is reasonable to assume that it wouldn’t have been hard to imagine a Police officer upon a motorbike or inside a Police car.
Reality allows for extrapolation. We know there are Police Constables. We know there are rollerblades and roller-skates. It is not impossible to imagine Police Constables on rollerblades or roller-skates.
But then again, consider pedestrian crossings. We know they exist. We’ve seen them. We know that countless feet have walked over them. We know that the white or yellow lines that make pedestrian crossings are painted on black tar. We know there are birds. We know there’s a thing called flight.
Can we then or have we ever stopped to consider the possibility of pedestrian crossings, freed from the tyranny of tar and the weariness of feet, wandering willy-nilly over roads, congested or traffic-free, stopping at intersections to exchange greetings with traffic-lights, taking cover from torrential rain in a sheltered bus stop, jumping into a bus or negotiating temporary residency in a bird’s nest?
Now, how about policemen on rollerblades furiously pursuing such errant pedestrian crossings all over the city?
In other words, a cityscape or indeed anything you can imagine can be extracted from context, removed from frame and set free. Anything can be made to converse with anything else. We can also script such conversations and consider the possibility of script-replacement. For example, why can’t we consider the possibility that alarm alarm-clocks can be alarmed or that a clothesline could ask for a cup of tea?
It may seem like a meaningless exercise and a frivolous pursuit indulged in by someone plagued by the unbearable burdens of boredom. The question can also be asked, ‘to what end?’ Except of course that those who are fascinated with ‘end(s}’ often forget to notice bystanders and byroads and the innumerable charms of the wayside.
We could, on the other hand, leave the unimaginable or rather the less imaginable alone and focus on what’s apparent and apparently fixed. Raindrops and roses, whiskers on kittens, bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens, brown paper packages tied up with strings, as the song goes, just a few of your favourite things. You could take note of the fact that someone has stuffed flowers in some vase, someone filled the balloons. Familiarity does give comfort during uncomfortable moments.
It is interesting however to scramble things. Imagine a week where Saturday slides in after Monday or Sunday drips into Friday. How about the short month coming first, followed by the 30-day months and then the long months? Easy to imagine, hard to get agreement on, obviously. How did we get weekends, anyway, have you wondered? Why not a ‘weekend’ of a Wednesday and Thursday, to keep things all secular and those who are religious can do their religion-thing on their own time?
Someone once scribbled the following on the page carrying a preamble to a collection of poems: ‘books belong to those of us who have eyes that feel and hearts capable of reading.’ Interestingly, the poet had self-described himself on the same page:
I am
a hole in a flute
that the Christ’s breath flows through —
listen
to this music
How should we live, then? How should we see, feel, breathe, touch and listen? And what textures would we encounter, what visions would we see, what fragrances breathe and to what songs will we open the windows of our hearts? At what crossroads do we abandon right and wrong? At what moment do we resolve to look beyond good and evil? The poet, Hafiz of Shiraz, suggests that all is possible, not later but right now.
Now is the time to understand
that all your ideas of right and wrong
were just a child’s training wheels
to be laid aside
when you can finally live
with veracity
and love
The streets are lined with rollerblades and roller-skates. There is a friendly squirrel at each set of wheels ready to teach you how to use them. There are pedestrian crossings waiting to be peeled off the road and be turned into long, fluent and fluttering flags.
A million voices will scream, ‘don’t wreck things!’ A soft voice will respond and the response will be heart: ‘things are wrecked beyond repair, didn’t you know?’ A policeman will descend from the skies on a flying motorbike carrying in a magical satchel which contains new songs for a revolution and announce with a smile: ‘the country called ‘Tomorrow’ is eminently habitable, if only you can see that today is an untenable proposition.’
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