Monday, October 29, 2001

The View From Her


The Sensual World

Herbs, hidden in the green, buried treasure landmines of the senses. There's a patch of lemon thyme growing wild in Mary's lawn, and it catches me by surprise every time I hit it with the mower—its fresh scent intoxicating, transporting.

Yesterday, while raking the leaves from the garden, I stirred up the beds of mint—and found myself just a splash of bourbon and a sugarcube away from Louisville—a wicker chair, a verandah, an ice-cream suit and a string tie. Sense memory? No. Sensory imagination: I've never even been to the racetrack, let alone to Kentucky.

I can't understand why so-called psychics make such a fuss about extra-sensory perception, when the five we have can already take us to places beyond our physical experience.