Inkblots and Promise Boxes

Inkblots.

What do you think of when you stare at this one?

— broccoli, lungs, chromatography…?

— the smudge on the side of your fridge?

— brutalist architecture coated in anti-climb paint during a revolution

— other

…

And this post might get you thinking:

— yeah. I always had my doubts about this person.

— hmm. She makes some interesting observations, but what do they mean?

— Ha! Do you know what this gets me thinking… ?!

… I'm pretty good at word games.

Once during Pictionary, I drew one brisk straight line and my partner guessed immediately. Most people hardly knew the game had started — DOWN HILL SKI SLOPE!

Yes, okay, I only drew the line. I wasn't the hero in that case. But you just have to know who you're playing with.

Like charades. And the day I realised the rest of my team knew sign language and the other team probably didn't. (Not really a game at that point.)

ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST!

D'uh! And easier than drawing Jack Nicholson.

Another time I was playing that game where you describe one word using any other words, as fast as you can. Well, that's one thing with a stranger. Quite another if —

You know — by Grandpa's chair. What's always on his table?

PLASTERCINE!

"That film with Kate Winslet. No, no, the one we saw on Saturday."

ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND.

I love those games, but not when people cheat.

…

Give a young child a grandparent's garden of tall daisies and a sky filled with sun.

She'll lay down in it, possibly. I mean, you would.

You would, unless you were someone famous with one eye on the paparazzi.

…

Give someone a search engine.

They'll — probably start realising they didn't need to know the birthdate/shoe size/current location of a right wing/ left wing / politician/ artist/ intellectual / comedian / from the 1820s, 2020s … all leaving a trace they didn't intend to leave.

Or, who cares. Popups, cookies, spam, bring it on.

I once had a job writing copy for packaging websites. Bubblewrap was all I blogged about for a while. I ended up with torrential amounts of bargain bubblewrap offers, as well as packing tape dispensers and cardboard box supplies — in case I was still interested.

I wasn't.

But you could argue — you were spending your online life proving you were, back then. Signals everywhere.

Or else you should have used a different sign-in, so we could tell the difference.

Keep up.

And so it is.

…

Give someone a Bible.

Perhaps someone in a hotel room — okay, in a power cut — who just opened a drawer.

Who's Gideon…?

Flicking through —

Ah, I remember this from school.

In the beginning.

They don't like science, do they…?

Ezekiel! LSD…?

Oh, look. Christmas. Aww, I was a shepherd.

…I don't get this bit…

Oh, right, he actually died?

That, I did not know. Seriously…

Yup, okay.

Very long book.

_…

There's a story somewhere in there about an Ethiopian eunuch who got lost in the text in a similar way. A disciple called Philip arrives. Talks about it with him.

Now he understands.

Now it's relatable.

Relatable. To an intelligent but confused Ethiopian eunuch.

What do you think that disciple did? Said?

What would you say to an Ethiopian eunuch in a hotel room during a power cut?

…

Here's my soap box. (Not a real one, but if I had a real one, I'd use it here.)

The Bible is [more like]*

a —

a — ?

a — [silent soundtrack]* [threshold moment]* [open hand]*

— that [happens to be]* [presented]* in the form of [text]*

than

— an encyclopaedia

— a guide book

— storybook

* All those words were the wrong words. Please understand. Language is like that. You can only reach for what's coming to you, and hope the other person will play along.

…

My grandmother — promise boxes. We made one together.

Strips of paper with Bible verses on. In an old chocolate box.

Some people said that was like divination.

I thought it was like tasting that any slice of a cake is still cake.

I thought it was feeling that Bible verses were like chocolate.

I think it started me on a path of fascination I'm still on…

Not divination.

More like inkblots, perhaps.