Slowing Down Time Through Charcoal Encounters

I wonder about time…

We live fast-paced lives instilled early on to talk fast, move on, check in but something keeps happening to me during these intra-actions that move us into a different time zone where a minute can become an hour. During the charcoal encounters, which often happen with a single child, I lose track of time. I don’t remember what else was happening or who else was there. I am caught trying to remember when it happened – before or after the walk? All I can remember is an intensity -that distinct squeaking sound. It is less disturbing than scratching a chalkboard but it makes my inner ear twitch and makes me cringe at thoughts of the dentist chair.

But it is also soothing and the sound flows out with pressure and movement together. I can hear it, really hear it. It is intimate. You have to lean in close to feel the sound. It vibrates in your fingers and joints as you exert pressure and change its tones. There are variations in the tune. As I lean in to listen I can taste the metallic dust on my lips. My forehead is brushing up against the child’s head as we listen together. It is a tiny, little, metal note twanging along the paper from the charcoal to my ear. But it isn’t just through my ear that it moves. It communicates with me in another way, coursing vibrationally inside me. It feels like these invisible vibrations make my organs quiver. It feels cold and primal and unbalances my intellect. Am I hearing it or feeling it? It is a new experience and a telegraph line to very old feelings.

I look up and I am tired, thirsty and a bit confused. It had a tune but it wasn’t music. It had no words but it was talking. I heard but I am unsure if I understood. I will listen more.