I was chopping vegetables. They wouldn’t chop. I pushed the knife in deeper. Nothing. I looked at it without really looking. Tried again. Nothing. Then I looked closely. I was using the blunt side. Had I attempted one more time, then the sharp edge would have sliced through me.
Was it deliberate? I don’t know. I know that I was upset about something. I was upset because I had been rude. Was this my way of hitting out at myself? Was my subconscious protesting?
It is a sharp knife, a new one. Maybe the knife wanted to cut through something more interesting than vegetable. Isn’t it possible that knives too have desires and a mean streak?
We assume inanimate objects are poor, lifeless creatures, but hammers hit. You say that human hands have to use that hammer? True, but what about the nail on the floor that you step on? What about the stone that falls on your head? What about a piece of brick that grazes your elbow as you try and make your way past a wall?
They too could have a subconscious. They too could have a streak of rudeness in them. Do they look for retribution? My knife lies glistening on the tray. I can only see my eyes in its steel body; they look sad. Is it about the knife or about me?
Is reflection about self-contemplation or contemplating oneself in another?