For Anthony Johnson
Good Friday begins with the dog, first jumping on the bed for the ritual morning kiss and then with stepping outside on the porch. It snows and it freezes. But we are both naked on the porch. The tall trees salute us and we salute them. The sun approves of these salutations. The snowflakes envelop our bodies. They melt on my nakedness while the dog’s fur retains them in their full glory; for a moment. We get dressed and have coffee. I get dressed and I have coffee. The dog watches me. She makes a sign towards the woods. ‘Come now, what do you need all these clothes for?’ I tell her that since it’s Good Friday, I have to be decent for church. We step into it. Nature greets us, and we go searching for special branches. We find some with mushrooms on them. Frigg helps me break them into sizable pieces. I find an altar and start preaching: ‘The thing itself…’ Frigg wags her tail and nods. At the sounds of the church bells nearby we decide to pose for a photo shoot. The camera clicks on automatic setting, and we forget what we came here for. Is it a wedding? The thing itself. Not the idea of the thing. The thing itself. Anthony Johnson instructed his people and me on the significance of the thing itself exactly a year ago in Turku. I did the same 3 days ago. I teach, that’s what I do, though not everyone gets it. Anthony said: The alchemical marriage tells us something about the thing itself. But the thing itself is without significance. It’s a portrait of nature with white hair.