Towards a Lack of Understanding on Balance and Perspective; Visual Reassurances of Spiritual Warmth.



When I first passed by their corner, they approached and said ‘Wait! Why are you walking by? Wait!… Wait here for it, why don’t you? Pull up a chair to our table. Please… sit down. Please, relax and lay down on this floor. You should reach for the cool beneath the dirt, beneath the lines and the cement. Peal back the wild striations and turn over the rock to find the cool underbelly that has been long sheltered from the sun’s radiation. Flip over your sights and peak beneath this table of earthy soils. We pulled up this grassy carpet just for you. Who knows? You might find all you need here in these lines of balance and perspective.’



I had no idea what they were talking about and I could not be bothered. So I kept striding onwards without any idea of what direction I was headed. But for some reason, the further I distanced myself from them, the barometer in my head kept swelling. A strange ebb and flow of mental weather.



The next day, as I rounded their same corner, I could feel the ground below me cool. They were speaking to me already, as if searching for songs, ‘Did you see that? Did you feel your warm blood rush to the tips of your eyelids. We beg of you, grab onto the lines of the pine boards below and see the dirty roots that vibrate with unsteady frequency. Lose sight of where the line begins and ends. Breath deeply outward and fall under the spell of your own breath, visible in the cold air of our loam. Fall deep into the quivering of this, our righteously faceted table, our hole in the ground, our pie in the sky.’



I had no intention of falling for their chants and ever-folding phrases, but somehow they won me over. I suddenly felt myself begin to slow until I stopped walking. Then slowly, I peered into the cold grey sight they had laid before their feet. A rectangle, of what looked like a woven blanket, lay in front of me. Over and under, through and around, from within and above, their sight seemingly simultaneously stretched outward and inward, away from and onto itself. I had no way of telling myself what I was looking at, yet I was not filled with any question. Their sight was no longer secret as it was now mine; I too fell into their swelling dreamy chants of query and confidence. Songs of a constellation’s dream filled my eyes and I no longer was sickened by their sounds. I became a note to their chorus, a speck of dirt in their tillage, and I felt warmed in seeing my hot breath dissipate into their cold world.



When I was able to speak, I did not look up. I softly uttered the question, ‘Where does it end?’… And to my delight, I heard from within my own head, ‘Part your hair to the other side and see all the way through our soil, you have every right to dive right in. This is your long journey, till yourself a new mind. There is no telling where you have yet to travel.



From somewhere deep below my feet, a shaking grabbed hold of my knees. I could not help but bend and fall.

This was posted 6 years ago. It has 1 note.