The cliff is nearby, I can feel its tough, strong, and steady presence near my still form. I have landed on the bottom of the dark unknown, but not in a standing position. No, rather, I land awkwardly on my right hip, but the landing was light. The ground beneath me is rough but cool, as if at one point in time a river once flowed willingly, freely, but now has dried up. But there is always water beneath hard ground…
I stand slowly to my feet, a calm curiosity is felt within me. My eyes are wide, desperately trying to adjust to this deep darkness outside my comfort zone. My legs feel stiff, probably due to the fall. As I stand straight and tall, assessing my surroundings, my tight muscles relax. Incredibly, there is no pain in my right hip. My guides – guides I have known long ago, who once spoke to me with ease, whose images I use to see fuzzy inside my head – are with me still; even if their voices have long ceased. They are my cushion. With them, I know I am safe.
A gust of light wind is felt within this darkness, the darkness outside my comfort zone. I feel it across my face, arms, and through my slightly parted legs. The wind is cool and sends goose bumps up my arms. The wind whistles as it goes through the darkness outside my comfort zone, as if it is in a canyon like space. The whistle becomes distant as it passes through the unknown. The wind circles back as if in a spiral, and the whistle becomes a hint louder as it comes close to me once again, this time brushing against my back, causing my hair to flutter softly over my shoulders and lay gently upon my bosom.
The wind stills. I know I am safe. Calmness is felt within me, even if my eyes do not see clearly what is before me. They are adjusting to this strange territory; adjusting to this apparition of darkness outside my comfort zone. My eyes are no longer open so wide.
As my eyes adjust and relax, I realize that the darkness is only imaginary, for once we adjust our focus, we see what was once unseen.
I can now see the rough edges of the cliff before me, but not its true color, only a deep blue hue that appears black. I look to me left, then to my right, and on both sides of me I see the edges of a cliff. I look before me, straight ahead as far as I can see, and as I switch my gaze my eyes become blurry temporarily, but soon again adjust. Before me is a winding dark road that is too dark for me to see its end, but clear enough for me to feel and know that I can walk willingly down the path. The path is clear, as if paved just for my feet.
I step forward carefully, taking in the coolness of the compacted dirt beneath my bare feet. I take another steady, slow step; then another, and so forth. With each steady step I feel at ease, comfortable, knowing that the darkness I saw as I peered down at the top of this cliff was only imaginary.
As I walk, still with steady slow steps, the wind is softly felt now and then, circling the canyon like walk way, as if encouraging me to keep going. The air down here is fresh—not thick and heavy—rather light and clean, easy to inhale. It is crisp, fresh air of new territory, meant for me to explore.
Let it go, let it go the wind continues to tell me as a thought of yesteryear, yesterday and moments ago upon the edge of that cliff cross my weary mind. With each passing moment, with each footstep forward, I let go of my past. Little by very little my mind is clearing, ready to take in what is before me… whatever it is that will be at the end of this rocky, but smooth, dark yet clear, winding compacted dirt path.
Time goes on, and as it flows, my feet steadily move forward, at a pace suited for comfort and long distance walking.
A speck of yellow-orange light is seen before me, the hue may be described as a golden light perhaps, but it is only a speck. I do not hurry my steps. My thoughts do not increase. My mood, facial expression and the atmosphere I am within are still. The wind, even, is still as if in anticipation. I am in no hurry, but I keep my eye on this light, and I do not look back, for I feel a presence behind me, a presence that I should not see.
A tapping is felt upon my shoulder as I walk closer toward this light, a light that still is distantly away.
Look back, look behind you is the hissing whisper in my left ear. I do not give in. The wind does not encourage me forward, for once that whisper began, once the light appeared, the wind too stilled. It is up to me to decide what it is for me to do. My decision is to move forward.
Where will this path end? I will not jump to a conclusion. So, for now, I will continue walking, walking toward the light. And the being tapping upon my shoulder? Well, it can keep on tapping. I will not give in to its temptation. So, go on tapping… I’ll keep on walking.
We were all born with invisible wings that were created for us to soar to new heights in the endless sky with purpose and heart.
Author Bio: The voice of the spirit is as loud as the whisper in the wind, breath upon the skin, and as delicate as a feather in the wind. The quiet voice speaks the truth within you. Let it speak through you, and let it be what it will be. There is no rhythm, rhyme, or reason. the voice of the spirit is felt rather than heard, and when it is heard it is through your own words or way of expression.
Speak those quiet words, in any form you wish; through art, verbally, in any way. Let it be and you will see what you are capable of.
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