Nautilus by Josephine Wall

The moon sails high above the silent garden; tendrils of scented steam chase fireflies through the bougainvillea that tumbles over the white painted walls of the villa, misting the icy champagne glass around which my fingers curl… hot tub and wine, the subtle seduction of decadent bubbles…

Yeah, right. Anyone who knows me will also know that ‘bubbles’ is one of the politer and more printable expletives I use.

I’m not a happy bunny, as the saying goes. I have a long morning in the hot tub ahead…fully clothed too. I don’t mind, precisely, but it is bigger than me and usually manages to leave me both drenched and exhausted and that is only about half of what it says on the proverbial tin. I’m only cleaning it, you understand, not luxuriating, being its maintenance person rather than its owner, and there is something about that situation that makes the chore vaguely onerous.

Imagination, however, once engaged, can serve the dual purpose of whiling away the time it takes to complete the task as well as providing at least an illusory motivation of escape into luxury. I may be a great believer in living in the moment, but when the moment is a pain in the backside, imagination is a darned good alternative.

Not that imagination is ever quiescent, of course. For any of us. It is always working away in the background with a litany of ‘what ifs’ and ‘if onlys’, even when we do not engage it actively. It is the imagination that allows us to dream, to reach for the stars or fear the monster under the bed and the vampire at the window. “Would you like to skydive?” In the split seconds that follow such a question, verbal or otherwise, we leave the constraints of time behind and wander the universe of possibility… our answer will depend upon which fork of the road we take at the crossroads of inner vision. Those who see themselves quaking on the threshold of the aeroplane, looking down at a void filled with failed parachutes and broken bones are going to give a resounding ‘no’. Those who see excitement, freedom and challenge… the chance to fly… will jump at the chance thus offered. Whether or not we are conscious of it, we have played out an entire scenario in our minds, conditioned by our fears and longings and dramatised by imagination. What we perceive on that inner screen determines our response to almost any situation.

Imagination is a powerful thing, fuelling the flames of desire on all levels, making our fears so real that they cease to be abstract and rule our lives in ways we seldom notice and colouring our emotions and relationships with what may become a self-fulfilling prophecy of either joy or pain.

Imagination is a double-edge sword, yet any weapon is only an extension of ourselves… a tool to be used, not to be ruled by. Imagination changes our perception even of the physical world; perception being our personal interpretation of what our physical senses tell us. These interpretations are the matrix of our actions and reactions. They colour, too, our self-image and our belief in our own capabilities. So imagine, if you will, the difference it would make to how you walk through the world and what you could do if you could believe in yourself… really believe and see yourself attaining a dream… something you long for with all your heart and into which you could pour all your energy and creativity.

That focussed imagination, is what makes the businessman successful. It is what fuels the innovator in science and medicine and allows the artist to paint new worlds with pen and brush. It is not always a good thing, it depends on our goal and our reasons; the emotions which themselves fuel and are fuelled by that inner vision can destroy as much as they create… the vicious circle of jealousy; prejudice and envy to name but a few instances of the destructive power of an unreality upon which we unconsciously depend. Yet the possibility for change also has roots in the imagination and it is here that the movement starts, both on an intimately personal level or collectively as a race.

This morning’s adventure in imagination may seem a fruitless exercise in many ways, allowing me to do no more than accomplish a task with equanimity, or you might see in it an exercise of controlled imagination where I pick up a tool and consciously use it rather than allowing it to rule me instead. The more we practise, the better we get with our tools…

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to do battle with the hobbit-eating hot tub… and I shall prevail.