A Morning Whisper
All of life is a hike through the unknown of each day.
We carry with us the walking stick of experience and the roadmap of our parents’ and grandparents’ guidance. The words of artists and the morals of fairy tales ring out as we step over a fallen branch, or dip our hand into the nearby stream, or round a blind turn. Our friends chant and chant and chant and we are thus pushed by an invisible sidelong gravity. The promise of applause and candy-like sensations act as flares shot into the distant sky promising to serve as our north star. In this way, we are never totally lost.
Day after day, I can march unthinkingly without a real sense of how my walking stick and this flare and the chanting might conspire to send me in circles. And as I have marched these many years, without a real sense of time or place or purpose I have yearned so longingly to grasp in my worn hands the ripest of fruits birthed by this mysterious world. I schemed. I plotted. I day dreamed. Oh how I day dreamed! And I reached and reached and reached and reached and reached and reached and reached and....
Today, though, I woke up and it seemed I couldn’t move. I lay, covered in leaves and grass and surrounded by trees. I knew I should move. They chanted for me to move and my walking stick looked at me with piteous, desirous eyes and the flare burned brighter than ever it seemed, but despite all of this I simply couldn’t move. My heart beat and beat and beat and for the first time I really felt this heart of mine. At first it felt like it was going to burst with the strongest urges for the greatest pleasures. My day dreams washed over me, and I lay yearning for what felt like hours. But then, after a time, I felt myself fall back, exhausted and distraught and languid from the aggressive and passionate yearnings. My jaw relaxed and my eyes softened. All of a sudden, there it was. The subtle beauty I had been searching for in its most grandiose and satisfying form washed over me. A sound I had never heard. A sight I had never seen. It was all too lovely. As I finally lay prostrate with my hands resting limp and my palms facing upward, I whispered,“Oh please do not go. Oh please do not go; for I cannot lose you. I cannot lose you here and now when I have finally grasped that which I have so ardently longed for. Here it is. Here you are. You are filling my body with wonder.”
I stood up and broke my walking stick. I tore up the roadmap and scattered the remains among the dried leaves. I held up my hands to hide from the sight of the flares. I looked around menacingly and cupped my hands around my mouth and screamed, “STOP CHANTING.”
All is silent now. I lie down and turn my palms upward. My body goes limp. My eyes droop ever so slightly.
The unknown of the day is pulsing with life all around me, and yet, my legs refuse to move. I refuse to hike. Holding a dried leaf in my hand, I stare at its magnificence and whisper, "You may crumble when you are ready, but for now you are beautiful."