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Sunday 7.10.05: Transcendental Dusting

Problem: Dust.

Problem. A gray haze mutes the spirit of our ethnic artifacts -- African fetishes, Buddhas and Shivas, delicately carved handles of Indonesian kerises (ceremonial knives). They fall silent and retreat into themselves.

Dust.

Solution: frottage d'esprit.

Solution. They are beyond the aid of a gentle sweep with the feather duster.

I put the trance music on the iPod -- chants, gamelan, African drums and get my clean rag.

One by one I pick up each object and burnish away the gray winter coat.

What a great meditation, I thought, as each object's beauty was rediscovered. People should be paying us, I thought, for the privilege of dusting such numinous creatures. We couldn't call it dusting though. We'd have to call it touching infinity. Or spirit rubbing. Or frottage d'esprit. Yeah.