It is only in adventure that some people succeed in knowing themselves - in finding themselves.
- Andre Gide
Thursday, May 30, 2002
And when the night comes it comes quietly
a dark oozing silence that envelops the trees,
stark forbidding shapes cast against
a sable canvas. A lone heart beats in the
quietude, listening to what is not there.
A mourning dove enters the stillness with
a slow brooding sound, unperturbed as a stone.
The foot tread of insects echoes faintly in
their business of quest and confiscation.
Far off dogs yap warnings at visitants,
a muffled harking. The dead rest peacefully
tonight, even the wind dares not lift its head.
And the darkness of this time resides heavily,
seeping into the earth beneath her feet.
Cognizant of destiny issuing its call yet
steeling against the lure toward the place
that she dreads. Sensations push tremulously
against the sheer walls of the soul’s ascension,
feels like forever closing in. An inescapable
longing fills the night; a soft moan rises to
console the emptiness. The prescience unfolds
like gauze drifting across the sand. Contemplating
distant reveries, she questions her fate.
And where is the always?
And where was the never?
Ever it had been that existence spread beyond
view when peering outward; an alien visage
engulfing her mind. Her inner realm throbbed
softly in its ritual of pressure and discharge,
a purgation that appalled yet freed. Ever it
had been. But a shadow overhung nature,
burrowed between the now and then, woven
into the helix that descended like a golden
strand. All knowing it held and it beckoned
her rapacity. A present-day Eve, it was not
ecstacy sought, but the philosopher’s stone.
She knew delight was the apex of the
spiraling ride; abject pain its compensating turn.
Alternate hands flipping fate, twirling the
existential quarter; waiting for the presage of
what was to come. Ever it had been. Long had
the railings against it settled. The opening to
the always was the auspicious design.
Pathways lit by glimmering pulses; distinct
refractions embedded into the psyche’s terrain.
So into this realm she hastened, driven by
the urge to seize fluid time in her hands
and find forever there.
An infinite-treed forest loomed ahead, a vaguely
foreboding mien. Deep within its many paths
the chimera summoned - its shattering cry
ruptured the tranquil nothingness. Trepidation
halted her footsteps and bowed her head;
the call heightened, clasping at her heart.
The purifying breath confirmed her pack’s tally;
heaped with projectiles staunch and cool.
The jewel of her cache was well guarded,
even she did not fully grasp its potency.
Nor how to release it except that she knew
it would fly when it was time.
Ever it had been that she carried the twin
lamps of reason and intuition into these forays.
Never had they failed to illuminate the way;
her faith in their brilliance did not falter and
the radiance extended beyond her sight.
Now as she plunged into the darkness, the
light cast shadows all around - false paths
to lead her away from the one so true.
The last cry still reverberated and fear
still trembled her soul; her mind hardened
against the devil’s logic for all her days
had lead her to this crisis.
Many trials had she won, many lost. Her
lessons were affixed - posited in the span
of her voyage. Now the worst of those,
the one that had left her in the dust amid
her tears, shouted - Come hither! Her light
dimmed briefly as her desire flared and she
found herself wandering toward a mirage
gleaming through the trees. Seated high upon
a shining throne, the forest king espied her
as she stumbled into his hall. His magnanimous
spirit lit the space, his eyes were mild and kind.
She hesitated, wondering.
He sensed the fit between them, knew her
in his mind’s eye. A lesser throne sat empty
and he tempted her to ascend. The illusion
cast its net, dragging her toward the trap
against her will. “Rest from your travels,”
said he, “and sit by my side for a while.
And when you are refreshed we can proceed
to yon chamber - the nuptial bed awaits within.”
A lassitude beset her, her energies diffused.
Yet she felt that all was not as it appeared
and sought to slash away the shrouds
that obscured her sight.
Regarding her from the gilded seat, the king
brandished his hands across her view. “See all
there is here for you,” he said. Indeed the walls
were hung with tapestries of gold and green,
depictions of revelries from another day. Bronze
bowls filled with grapes and fat yellow pears sat on
tables and thick patterned rugs lay upon the floor.
Still she did not move, wavering in her doubt
that this was real. Finally, she spoke; “As much as
I would love to stay and take my ease, I must go.
For to stop now would surely seal my fate.”
And she turned to leave.
Then the golden vista dissolved around her
and in its place the Shadow stood. As it lunged
to take her life’s blood she whirled, vaulted
across the clearing and into the woods she flew.
The feint but a brief vantage as she seized
her dart, leveled the image forming in her brain
and loosened it. The arrow missed and
the demon was upon her, elongated fingers
jabbing at her face. Panic rose up to blur
her mind, she hurled it to the side. Suddenly,
it was gone, retreated to where she knew not.
Exhausted, she had passed the test.
Lying where she’d been dropped by the specter,
feeling the imprints of its thumbs upon her eyes;
she remembered other encounters. This was the
most vicious by far. She had pursued it to this
place thinking it was weakened. How wrong
could she be, it’s power had burgeoned instead.
Thinking she was prepared, feeling it would
destroy her next time, how could she go on?
Yet she was knotted in the schema, a cog in
the gear, shifting was out of the question.
In short, she must continue.
Slowly she felt her strength returning, the will
to press forward was still there. Question was,
which path to take, they all looked the same
to her now. Pulling herself up she stood swaying
like a willow in the breeze, then steadied as sturdy
as an oak; roots sinking into the ground binding her
to the forces of the earth. Listening to the night,
she knew. A deep breath and the journey continued.
Yes, next time she would be ready for its snare.
How many had she eluded, each time getting
closer to its name. Soon it would be cornered,
and face to face they’d meet.
As she followed the trail laid out before her,
she recalled the reason she set upon this path.
Ever it had been there, leering beyond the
last ridge of her thought. Even more so than
when it seemed that all was well or that
her wishes would be fulfilled. Coming out
of the darkness of her being, the Shadow
had slapped her silly more than once. Yet
each time they wrestled, in every incarnation
of its form, she always knew it for what it was.
And even in its strangeness she had noticed
a disquieting familiarity in its shape.
And where was the always? She followed
her feelings like a walker on a highwire; her
feet held fast and true. Her certainty grew,
a sure sign disaster was bearing down. But
she smiled in the knowledge, forewarned,
after all. Then she saw straight ahead a
shanty in a bend of the path. Wary as she was,
no evil could she sense. Her uneasiness grew,
for another catechism was her dread. A voice
rang out as she approached, a clear tone
in the stifling woodland domain: “Come in,
my child, there is help for you here!”
Grimly, she drew near to the opening and saw
a crone seated on the floor. Her eyes crinkled
with silent laughter; on her countenance
wisdom bloomed. The old woman regarded
the younger standing tensely at the door and
smiled, “You may pass through to the place
you need to be, if you choose wisely.” Then
she gestured toward a small table laden with
artifacts by the wall- nostra, herbs, mushrooms,
peyote, magical objects, spell books, crystals,
and a simple birch wand. “Gaze upon these
treasures and elect your lieutenant!”
Too easy, she thought. She’d tried many of
these rituals and though they might take her
part of the way - they would not get her to the
source of truth and light. Of that much, she was
assured. But she considered the tomes - many
of those she knew as well, only one did she wish
for and find, dog-eared and yellowed, a book of
Sufi poetry by the mystic Rumi. She picked it up
lovingly, and held it out. The crone gazed at her.
“Are you sure this is what you desire? There are
objects with more power on that ledge.
Why have you chosen this one?”
She looked down at the book she held
in her hands, full of verses about hope
and love, just thinking of it warmed her
heart and in her mind she envisioned a star.
“It brings faith together in a song of devotion
and seats it in the soul,” said she. The hag
stared at her for a instant, then laughed.
Rising to her feet, they stood face to face,
and thus she answered, “So faith is stronger
than any spell, tincture, or element, you say?
Then test it!” Nebulous and amplified,
the cipher thrust her backwards.
As she fell the foundation gave way and
her consciousness began to fade. Unknowing
and lost to time she floated until she woke
to impeccable dark, surrounded by a viscous
fluid that transpired into every pore. An intense
fear assaulted her, she could not breathe.
Limbs thrashing, the sides of the cavern
seemed to be converging on her. Soon her
body would force her to take in lung fulls
of the watery soup and she would expire.
Terror descended as the trice arose and
the solution flooded in.
But she did not die and found her nurture
there. Becalmed, she began to relish the
suspension she was in. As she explored
this new environ, she observed a pulsating
rope extending from her center. She loved
it instinctively, it belonged to her and her
alone. The rhythm of life pervaded her being
and her amazement at this cosmic berth
waxed. No longer needing to dwell on
mundane matters such as breathing or
eating or defecating, she began to wonder
if she had found paradise.
As she weightlessly drifted in this primordial
medium, many images formed in her mind.
Strung upon a double helix, laddered thoughts
began to climb. An evolutionary plot unfolded
before her inner eye - she gasped at the sheer
amount of intelligence encoded there. It held
the fate of existence, of consciousness sublime.
Exploding stars and imploding galaxies all lived
within her time. From microscopic orders to
complex beings she saw the continuity of all -
the unity of molecules. Suddenly, she knew.
This is it, she exulted, the always!
Beyond that she felt an overwhelming
presence of spirit embracing her, an ocean
of forever, herself a crest on a wave. Many
rode beside her, some souls emerging, others
rejoining that mystic dwelling. She felt no
individual emotion - no longing, no pressures
that commanded realization - she lingered
for what was to come, content in the
knowledge that all would be as designed.
And as she settled into the comforting
sensation of this oneness, she vaguely
recollected her life before.
A cavalcade of memories ambled through
her brain, nonlinear radiating in all direction;
past present future, a nonlocal sequence.
It didn’t matter where she was - each moment
inherent eternity; it waited only for her
awareness to concede its existence. But,
a single idea drilled its way to the surface,
restive and constrained, rippling through
the detachment and edging into her mind.
If this is a test of faith, she wondered,
why this reverence, this peacefulness,
this nothingness? Then she knew...
In that moment of actualization, she saw
what the unspoken dimness had precluded;
cognizant of the awful truth she began to
flail against the walls of the sodden keep.
Cloaked within the Shadow, she had to
demolish the tightening abode. But the more
she struggled the tauter the coop became
until it seemed it would soon eject her if an
aperture was disclosed. Or perhaps it would
just crush her, the outcome was unknown.
Then she recalled the assurance she had
issued to the crone.
A test of faith? What? That infinity held
all wisdom? A truism, this. What good
was it in a sea of forgetfulness? She
remembered the joy of being, of sunshine
on her upturned face, a caress in the dark,
the smell of a rose on the vine, eating
chocolate, the kiss of a child, the pain
of loss, standing in the rain, and hope;
she remembered hoping for anything and
everything, every emotion - good or bad -
they belonged to her and her alone.
Yet they were shared by everyone!
With that flash of realization, the Shadow’s
grip softened to a sweet suggestion, the
collapsing cage fell away. Together they
stood in twilight - face to face; and when
she peered into that alien mask, she saw
a reflection of herself. The dark irrational
aspect she always tried to deny, old wounds
that wouldn’t heal, repressions, suppressions,
projections, she knew they belonged to her, too.
The Shadow who had battered her was
her flip side. Now she knew. There was
nothing left to do - but Dance!
© 2000 Melissa Songer
a dark oozing silence that envelops the trees,
stark forbidding shapes cast against
a sable canvas. A lone heart beats in the
quietude, listening to what is not there.
A mourning dove enters the stillness with
a slow brooding sound, unperturbed as a stone.
The foot tread of insects echoes faintly in
their business of quest and confiscation.
Far off dogs yap warnings at visitants,
a muffled harking. The dead rest peacefully
tonight, even the wind dares not lift its head.
And the darkness of this time resides heavily,
seeping into the earth beneath her feet.
Cognizant of destiny issuing its call yet
steeling against the lure toward the place
that she dreads. Sensations push tremulously
against the sheer walls of the soul’s ascension,
feels like forever closing in. An inescapable
longing fills the night; a soft moan rises to
console the emptiness. The prescience unfolds
like gauze drifting across the sand. Contemplating
distant reveries, she questions her fate.
And where is the always?
And where was the never?
Ever it had been that existence spread beyond
view when peering outward; an alien visage
engulfing her mind. Her inner realm throbbed
softly in its ritual of pressure and discharge,
a purgation that appalled yet freed. Ever it
had been. But a shadow overhung nature,
burrowed between the now and then, woven
into the helix that descended like a golden
strand. All knowing it held and it beckoned
her rapacity. A present-day Eve, it was not
ecstacy sought, but the philosopher’s stone.
She knew delight was the apex of the
spiraling ride; abject pain its compensating turn.
Alternate hands flipping fate, twirling the
existential quarter; waiting for the presage of
what was to come. Ever it had been. Long had
the railings against it settled. The opening to
the always was the auspicious design.
Pathways lit by glimmering pulses; distinct
refractions embedded into the psyche’s terrain.
So into this realm she hastened, driven by
the urge to seize fluid time in her hands
and find forever there.
An infinite-treed forest loomed ahead, a vaguely
foreboding mien. Deep within its many paths
the chimera summoned - its shattering cry
ruptured the tranquil nothingness. Trepidation
halted her footsteps and bowed her head;
the call heightened, clasping at her heart.
The purifying breath confirmed her pack’s tally;
heaped with projectiles staunch and cool.
The jewel of her cache was well guarded,
even she did not fully grasp its potency.
Nor how to release it except that she knew
it would fly when it was time.
Ever it had been that she carried the twin
lamps of reason and intuition into these forays.
Never had they failed to illuminate the way;
her faith in their brilliance did not falter and
the radiance extended beyond her sight.
Now as she plunged into the darkness, the
light cast shadows all around - false paths
to lead her away from the one so true.
The last cry still reverberated and fear
still trembled her soul; her mind hardened
against the devil’s logic for all her days
had lead her to this crisis.
Many trials had she won, many lost. Her
lessons were affixed - posited in the span
of her voyage. Now the worst of those,
the one that had left her in the dust amid
her tears, shouted - Come hither! Her light
dimmed briefly as her desire flared and she
found herself wandering toward a mirage
gleaming through the trees. Seated high upon
a shining throne, the forest king espied her
as she stumbled into his hall. His magnanimous
spirit lit the space, his eyes were mild and kind.
She hesitated, wondering.
He sensed the fit between them, knew her
in his mind’s eye. A lesser throne sat empty
and he tempted her to ascend. The illusion
cast its net, dragging her toward the trap
against her will. “Rest from your travels,”
said he, “and sit by my side for a while.
And when you are refreshed we can proceed
to yon chamber - the nuptial bed awaits within.”
A lassitude beset her, her energies diffused.
Yet she felt that all was not as it appeared
and sought to slash away the shrouds
that obscured her sight.
Regarding her from the gilded seat, the king
brandished his hands across her view. “See all
there is here for you,” he said. Indeed the walls
were hung with tapestries of gold and green,
depictions of revelries from another day. Bronze
bowls filled with grapes and fat yellow pears sat on
tables and thick patterned rugs lay upon the floor.
Still she did not move, wavering in her doubt
that this was real. Finally, she spoke; “As much as
I would love to stay and take my ease, I must go.
For to stop now would surely seal my fate.”
And she turned to leave.
Then the golden vista dissolved around her
and in its place the Shadow stood. As it lunged
to take her life’s blood she whirled, vaulted
across the clearing and into the woods she flew.
The feint but a brief vantage as she seized
her dart, leveled the image forming in her brain
and loosened it. The arrow missed and
the demon was upon her, elongated fingers
jabbing at her face. Panic rose up to blur
her mind, she hurled it to the side. Suddenly,
it was gone, retreated to where she knew not.
Exhausted, she had passed the test.
Lying where she’d been dropped by the specter,
feeling the imprints of its thumbs upon her eyes;
she remembered other encounters. This was the
most vicious by far. She had pursued it to this
place thinking it was weakened. How wrong
could she be, it’s power had burgeoned instead.
Thinking she was prepared, feeling it would
destroy her next time, how could she go on?
Yet she was knotted in the schema, a cog in
the gear, shifting was out of the question.
In short, she must continue.
Slowly she felt her strength returning, the will
to press forward was still there. Question was,
which path to take, they all looked the same
to her now. Pulling herself up she stood swaying
like a willow in the breeze, then steadied as sturdy
as an oak; roots sinking into the ground binding her
to the forces of the earth. Listening to the night,
she knew. A deep breath and the journey continued.
Yes, next time she would be ready for its snare.
How many had she eluded, each time getting
closer to its name. Soon it would be cornered,
and face to face they’d meet.
As she followed the trail laid out before her,
she recalled the reason she set upon this path.
Ever it had been there, leering beyond the
last ridge of her thought. Even more so than
when it seemed that all was well or that
her wishes would be fulfilled. Coming out
of the darkness of her being, the Shadow
had slapped her silly more than once. Yet
each time they wrestled, in every incarnation
of its form, she always knew it for what it was.
And even in its strangeness she had noticed
a disquieting familiarity in its shape.
And where was the always? She followed
her feelings like a walker on a highwire; her
feet held fast and true. Her certainty grew,
a sure sign disaster was bearing down. But
she smiled in the knowledge, forewarned,
after all. Then she saw straight ahead a
shanty in a bend of the path. Wary as she was,
no evil could she sense. Her uneasiness grew,
for another catechism was her dread. A voice
rang out as she approached, a clear tone
in the stifling woodland domain: “Come in,
my child, there is help for you here!”
Grimly, she drew near to the opening and saw
a crone seated on the floor. Her eyes crinkled
with silent laughter; on her countenance
wisdom bloomed. The old woman regarded
the younger standing tensely at the door and
smiled, “You may pass through to the place
you need to be, if you choose wisely.” Then
she gestured toward a small table laden with
artifacts by the wall- nostra, herbs, mushrooms,
peyote, magical objects, spell books, crystals,
and a simple birch wand. “Gaze upon these
treasures and elect your lieutenant!”
Too easy, she thought. She’d tried many of
these rituals and though they might take her
part of the way - they would not get her to the
source of truth and light. Of that much, she was
assured. But she considered the tomes - many
of those she knew as well, only one did she wish
for and find, dog-eared and yellowed, a book of
Sufi poetry by the mystic Rumi. She picked it up
lovingly, and held it out. The crone gazed at her.
“Are you sure this is what you desire? There are
objects with more power on that ledge.
Why have you chosen this one?”
She looked down at the book she held
in her hands, full of verses about hope
and love, just thinking of it warmed her
heart and in her mind she envisioned a star.
“It brings faith together in a song of devotion
and seats it in the soul,” said she. The hag
stared at her for a instant, then laughed.
Rising to her feet, they stood face to face,
and thus she answered, “So faith is stronger
than any spell, tincture, or element, you say?
Then test it!” Nebulous and amplified,
the cipher thrust her backwards.
As she fell the foundation gave way and
her consciousness began to fade. Unknowing
and lost to time she floated until she woke
to impeccable dark, surrounded by a viscous
fluid that transpired into every pore. An intense
fear assaulted her, she could not breathe.
Limbs thrashing, the sides of the cavern
seemed to be converging on her. Soon her
body would force her to take in lung fulls
of the watery soup and she would expire.
Terror descended as the trice arose and
the solution flooded in.
But she did not die and found her nurture
there. Becalmed, she began to relish the
suspension she was in. As she explored
this new environ, she observed a pulsating
rope extending from her center. She loved
it instinctively, it belonged to her and her
alone. The rhythm of life pervaded her being
and her amazement at this cosmic berth
waxed. No longer needing to dwell on
mundane matters such as breathing or
eating or defecating, she began to wonder
if she had found paradise.
As she weightlessly drifted in this primordial
medium, many images formed in her mind.
Strung upon a double helix, laddered thoughts
began to climb. An evolutionary plot unfolded
before her inner eye - she gasped at the sheer
amount of intelligence encoded there. It held
the fate of existence, of consciousness sublime.
Exploding stars and imploding galaxies all lived
within her time. From microscopic orders to
complex beings she saw the continuity of all -
the unity of molecules. Suddenly, she knew.
This is it, she exulted, the always!
Beyond that she felt an overwhelming
presence of spirit embracing her, an ocean
of forever, herself a crest on a wave. Many
rode beside her, some souls emerging, others
rejoining that mystic dwelling. She felt no
individual emotion - no longing, no pressures
that commanded realization - she lingered
for what was to come, content in the
knowledge that all would be as designed.
And as she settled into the comforting
sensation of this oneness, she vaguely
recollected her life before.
A cavalcade of memories ambled through
her brain, nonlinear radiating in all direction;
past present future, a nonlocal sequence.
It didn’t matter where she was - each moment
inherent eternity; it waited only for her
awareness to concede its existence. But,
a single idea drilled its way to the surface,
restive and constrained, rippling through
the detachment and edging into her mind.
If this is a test of faith, she wondered,
why this reverence, this peacefulness,
this nothingness? Then she knew...
In that moment of actualization, she saw
what the unspoken dimness had precluded;
cognizant of the awful truth she began to
flail against the walls of the sodden keep.
Cloaked within the Shadow, she had to
demolish the tightening abode. But the more
she struggled the tauter the coop became
until it seemed it would soon eject her if an
aperture was disclosed. Or perhaps it would
just crush her, the outcome was unknown.
Then she recalled the assurance she had
issued to the crone.
A test of faith? What? That infinity held
all wisdom? A truism, this. What good
was it in a sea of forgetfulness? She
remembered the joy of being, of sunshine
on her upturned face, a caress in the dark,
the smell of a rose on the vine, eating
chocolate, the kiss of a child, the pain
of loss, standing in the rain, and hope;
she remembered hoping for anything and
everything, every emotion - good or bad -
they belonged to her and her alone.
Yet they were shared by everyone!
With that flash of realization, the Shadow’s
grip softened to a sweet suggestion, the
collapsing cage fell away. Together they
stood in twilight - face to face; and when
she peered into that alien mask, she saw
a reflection of herself. The dark irrational
aspect she always tried to deny, old wounds
that wouldn’t heal, repressions, suppressions,
projections, she knew they belonged to her, too.
The Shadow who had battered her was
her flip side. Now she knew. There was
nothing left to do - but Dance!
© 2000 Melissa Songer
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