The Whole Story

We all start off life feeling small. We see the world around us and see an ocean; each and every infinitesimal piece of life swirling around us in darkness. We see through eyes unburdened by the weight of life, yet unaccustomed to viewing the possibilities. The sun is coming up, the burning light creeping into the corners of our world. Slowly, the treasure surrounding us becomes clear. We swim left, reaching for the glow of promised gold; then turn as we feel the heat and comfort offered by a warm flow. The light itself glints into our eyes, blinding us, but inciting our wonder and joy at wealth of possibility beyond. As we push into the light we see the path that was once unseen. As we follow it we realize that our vast ocean was but a diminutive puddle, a splash of life in what is truly an immense span of creation.

As our eyes adjust, we can see that the light has been here long before us. We feel the rocks and are burned by the heat to which our new fellows are already accustomed, in which they were raised. We are blistered but not broken. We are injured but not handicapped. We peel from our bodies that which is not needed and move deeper into the warmth of our chosen path. We are alone. We may be joined time and again by others; but they cannot truly be a part of the journey, for they cling to a different path. Those that try to dissuade us are scorned. Those who attempt to come with us quickly lose heart and swim for cooler waters. No one stays.

As we push with all the fervor of an animal who knows that winter is coming soon, we feel a cool current at out side. We see it flowing in tandem to our path, holding true to the goal. We glide into the stream, letting the cooler water sooth our aching muscles, finding repose in the tranquil waters that we had forgotten. There are many more waiting here. Were they waiting for us? Is this our true path? We had been fighting for so long, and now the way has become undemanding and peaceful. Gone are the heat and the strain put forth by the hell we had become obsessed with. Now is the time to be at harmony with what is around us.

As we float along, we distractedly glance to the old path, expecting it to be running in tandem with our own; but no. It is cautiously edging away. We are struck with panic. What have we done? We have taken the way of the languid, easing into a slumber of false joy. We try to jump away, to forge our way back to the fire. The cool current is to strong, it’s hold to great to escape that way. We must turn back. We must find the beginning of the path. We must return on our chosen way. We must return to our home, to our puddle. We must embark on our journey anew. The current is strong, but our resolve is stronger. Our muscles work in concert to evade the current pushing us away from the path.

We see our home, it is smaller that we remember, but, from a distance, looks the same. As we slowly slide up, it does not feel the same. We see that the sun that once illuminated our young eyes has labored in our absence. The light that was to be our friend has destroyed that which we loved. The glinting gold has been replaced by char and ash. The food that once nourished our young soul has been picked clean by those whom you left behind; but hope remains. You turn towards the light, that which you followed in the beginning. That which was filled with the hope and illumination provided by an endless future; but it is dimmed somehow. You frantically race to the path, you can feel it, almost taste the water. The path has been blocked. The hellish sun burned it until it collapsed. And you are now set. You are lost within the puddle that you once viewed as the endless utopia. You are trapped within the world that you now know to be but a thimble on the thumb of whatever creator there may be. You are left to ponder the scraps abandoned by those who held to the path; but you are not alone. From time to time you see one careening back towards there home, hoping for a new beginning, but you know they will only find an end.