It’s right there. Is it the same for you? Just through the dense fog of reality. Take a left turn past fantasy – there you’ll find it. It’s that place. A place many say doesn’t exist. A place for which I have no physical proof, but it’s there. I promise.
When I need to, I can retreat to this place. I should go there more often. It’s a destination I should find myself in, as part of a disciplined life, but I don’t. Though I neglect it, though, like a run down hovel, I ignore it, it waits for me.
The hair on my neck stands on edge. The wind skips over my skin just right. I take a breath, and I’m there. I’m gone. I’m nowhere to be found, but found finally. Time, my hauntingly present muse, ceases to have meaning. Space, our grounding constant, is warped and morphed, bent and twisted, leaving me somewhere, and nowhere, but the ancient familiarity washes over me with the rhythmic precision of an ebbing tide.
There is a sudden lack of everything. Worry disappears. Fear is stripped away, as my excited heart quickens. Too long have I avoided this place. Too long have I, bluntly and brutally, forced my way through the murky mire, when waiting, patiently, like a long suffering ally, the quiet beckons.
Silence. It is overwhelming. My ears, stunned to be useless, ring helplessly in protest. My eyes blink, curiosity fueling their dilation. There is no up. There is no down. Spatial orientation re-written, while my soul leaves its undefined cavity and covers my ailing flesh. I am poured. I am spilled. I am left empty. All that was dark, all that was failed and broken, runs out of me, leaving a cavity aching to be filled.
In the emptiness, in the silence, in the void, I am filled once more. I am renewed. I am re-born. Once again in the throne room, on supplant knee before the creator, I find the strength to open my eyes.
Reluctantly I return. Reluctantly the quiet time ends, and as a dog returns to its vomit, I return to a life of neglect.