Freewrite outside with Emma Hardy

Below is the transcription of my free-write from the prompts of our writing tutor- Emma Hardy.  I invite my classmates to either transcribe, free-write new, or comment: ( The exercise was to freewrite off of the underlined phrases)

 Aug. 3, 2011
The truth is found under the great sprawling tree-under its branches, dark and damp, something steeped in the green smell of wet moss, deep as the dark rough tree trunk, in the bits of silence between the birds calling and the rustle of the leaves, but something not quite discernible as my eyes catch the tiny air light insects that fly into my tears causing my eyes to shut.  Truth is also that I am but will not tell you because if I do it will become a lie and I don't want to lie.  I have to much hubris for that I want to tell you the key, the secret, the one fact that will open our eyes so that you say, aww I see- I see-I'll see the truth on your face-open, relaxed muscles turned to jelly so that your skin hangs naturally on your cheek and jawbone, so real, so truthful with a tinge of resignation - What I wished I had said was will you, will you? I will, I will, I wish I had that God is Dead or The War has begun or The World will end or The Novel is Dead or Public School education is an archaic institution There is no Santa Clause 2 plus 2 is not 4 and everything you believe is a lie so that we can begin again - go to another place - quite different than this- where paradigms and buildings have fallen like great heaps of sand washed by the waves and we are left here together to start again because truly nothing is more passionate than you and me together on the beach left to create a world better than this because when I look into your eyes I see such affirmation and need that what I meant to say was I love you - in the most respectful sense because you see - nothing shocking has been enough to erase the world in which these words are thought of and --if courageously enough, said, at the beach, you and I.

I opened the door and thought of the Beatles' movie - the Yellow Submarine in which Ringo is in a funhouse of brightly colored doors - open one and a funhouse mirror appears and there I am a wavy image - enormous forehead, little squatty legs or on tippy toes and squatty head and lanky endless legs - Oh no, not me.  Another door. I travel in an endless little labyrinth of twists and turns, another door - after I escape that one - a wonderful green hillside - where was I in the film - Where did Ringo end up with his Cockney accent and childlike funny acceptance of the next "pickle" he arrived at- yes - the Blue Meanies chasing him along with John, Paul, and George running onto the Yellow Submarine with a funny man at the helm - Nowhere Man who was so sure where he was going but it was his life told in an amazingly smooth ditty - "He's a real Nowhere man living in his Nowhere land, making all his nowhere plans for nobody."  So where did I end when I opened the door?  In a place I made happen because I had made the exertion, the effort to change my consciousness through action which is the only way to come to someplace different-  I was the list maker - had my period, had a glass of wine, saw my mother, smelled my father's tobacco, said I've never been to Scotland, saw my brother without his precious firstborn, believed that America could never experience war on native soil, saw the twin towers fall, believed that Santa was anyone but my father, smoked cigarettes, drove my Sunbird, Cavalier, Cadillac, AMC, purple sparkle bike with banana seat, 3 speed Raliegh, first lovely leather pocketbook, tarnished silver ring, said that I can't because it was something I couldn't change, said I can...because as I read this now realize that there is nothing but change..