THE
DREAM
The
valley below stretched and sighed, extending itself without thought, nor effort.
It was a concave canyon of untamed spaciousness carved out by a river long gone,
an authority though a millennia in passing, still showed its power of creation
in this deep and majestic presence. Reaching far into the untold distance, the
haze of the day finally engulfed its course from sight. It continued somewhere,
some place, supporting other spectacles of experience in ways no different than
the ones in clear view.
On
one side of the gorge at the crest of the over-look, stood the formation of
smooth yet uneven boulders, islands of earthly brown jutting out amidst
surrounding greenery. It was there atop the rocks that he stood in awe of the
beauty below. He had been there before, known the deception of calm and peace
and its hidden invitation to death. Many times before, a beating heart had
fallen to the valley floor, ending the journey in always the same fashion. With
fearful panic he would hold his breath in wait for the ground to meet him at the
end of the ever-quickening descent. The faster was the speed, the greater the
terror until its finality became a welcome relief. Then there would come the
silence. The serenity. The momentary lapse preceding the grueling climb to the
rocks high above in hopes of another leap, a chance that with the start of the
climb was always forthcoming and never denied.
Now,
as he looked out over the picture of stillness, his contemplation was not of
past falls or present could-have-beens, nor even of future repeats of
self-affliction. There was something more. He was not alone this time. They were
behind him, sitting, standing, watching, waiting, a few in admiration but most
in contempt, ready to ridicule the first untruth and proclaim the foolishness of
the entire event. To those of doubt, its purpose was meaningless, for there was
no meaning in its purpose. The audaciousness of attitude in attempting the
impossible, in imagining one could achieve the unachievable. And for what?
They
observed him, all in their own different ways, not knowing they too, were simply
waiting their turn. It would come sooner or it would come later, but surely, it
would come. He turned to them, and spoke. "It is not the wind which
caresses, the sun that shines its warmth, the earth or the sky offering their
vast space. It is not these things that shall carry you and me away. It is our
love that pours out onto them. This alone, will give us the gift of beauty and
of grace that we so dearly long for."
Those
that hated him hated him all the more for denouncing their world. Those that
loved him placed their lives at his feet, where he at once raised them to his
own eyes. He knew them all, friend and foe alike. Each face was a familiar one
with a different story to be told, though to him each story was the same,
producing the same overflowing feeling within his heart. They would all glare
out over the valley many times as he had done, feeling the hope, the pain, the
loneliness, the joy. There would be the first sounds of loving offspring, the
last gasps of familiar voices. No matter what the tales that would be told, all
distinctions were now lost to him, for each face was now his own.
It
was in the knowing of this as he looked into, through, and out every eye, that
the secret of the valley revealed itself. No longer was the need felt to conquer
it, for the valley gave its power only to those without desire to capture its
commanding force. The valley was his for he had become the valley. It asked for
nothing, strove for nothing and expended no effort in being what it was.
Likewise, he asked for nothing, would strive for nothing, and made no effort in
being anything but what he had always been.
Turning
momentarily from those faces of himself, he backed away from the edge, stopping
briefly for one last moment of endearing reflection. Then running at full speed,
he carefully placed each step on the perilous rocks underfoot. There was no
turning back as he bolted towards his last jump, for the others, and for himself.
Bringing his legs together for a single bound, he extended himself into the
alluring abyss, leaving the grunts and groans, the cheers and whispers behind.
His mind was now frozen as he closed his eyes, stretched his arms and descended
down with ever-increasing speed. Wind roared in his ears and pressed hard upon
his smiling face, yet never did his undying faith flee. Before the valley floor
once again abruptly dictated his fate, he felt his body begin to angle up,
riding on airy blankets of invisible cotton. He was now flying. His eyes were
now open.
Twisting
and turning, up, down and sideways. Wherever the wind took him, he in turn took
the wind and rode it. So free was he in fact, he knew not which was which. The
wind and his mind had joined. Higher and higher they took each other until even
the valley itself began to vanish in the haze. It had become the finger on a
hand, the hand becoming the arm on a body, which to him quickly became a speck
in the universe that had finally displayed itself in all its unseen glory.
As
he lowered himself, returning to those he loved more dearly than ever, the speck
once again became a body, the body supporting the hands where a finger
transformed itself into the valley that he had known. He saw his friends who
were as he joyfully flew around them. There were no more complaints, no more
gasps of awe, no more words of encouragement or discouragement. The deed was no
longer in question. It was now a fact. So great was his ecstasy inside that upon
touching down amongst them his words extended themselves out on their own
accord.
"Believe
in this, and we will now be carried away, together!"
