As the event happened, I stood lost in thought. Of course, it was unexpected, and I never speak on what cannot be expressed. The silence is expression enough.
I heard muffled screams, as reality shifted, and my thoughts attached to the miniature catastrophe that burned in my mind. My active conscience was not easily diverted. It marched steadily and with certainty to the wildfire that lay past the darkened middle of my mind’s tunnel. Was it mea culpa or serendipity? I thought of the recently scorched earth and rejected all culpability. I was a mere innocent in this world’s need for regeneration.
One door shuts and another one closes. I visualized my last journal entry, “It is never too late. You are free to walk through the last open door!” I could stay in this enclosed space and accept the abnormalities within it, or I could enter a new one. It was my dream, and so I boldly walked through the beckoning portal into a foyer.
I almost chuckled, but was silent, and any emotion easily subsided. All that is left is what is. I looked around me, and everything is where it should be. I looked up to the right of the entrance and there was the same clock, still stuck on 3:21. “Always right twice a day!” I put the arms there on purpose to fix its situation. Now the clock was always right, at least according to Proverbs, who states resolutely to practice sound judgement and discernment at all times. I suspect Proverbs and I had been good friends in some past lifetime. Underneath the clock just above eye level is the coat rack that still needed a good dusting, and below that an old wooden bench in need of fresh paint. Worse, the walls are still covered in a ghastly silver and black wallpaper. Everything is the same, but I wasn’t.
Accepting existence as a stationary state with a singular outcome is difficult. It is easier to indulge in everyday merriments. On my desk is a list of ‘To-Do’s’. In my mind an even longer list of ‘Would be Nice-If’s’. Then of course the never to speak of ‘You Musn’t Ever’s’. If pressed, I wouldn’t be able to rationally explain these madcap rules, never mind what divine creature might be in charge of portals that extend into the very same universe. I’d blame them, but the outcomes all seemed reasonable. Perhaps it was really just my fault.
It occurred to me that the event was just a figment. I pulled a long white handkerchief from my purse and blew my nose. Had I picked up some peculiar allergy? Having passed through the portal, my sinuses seemed to build with fluid by the hour, minute… oh who knows? Certainly not that miserable and boring clock in the foyer. But by letting it all out, I soon felt better, and just in time to finish where I had last started! I quickly added “Change out the ghastly silver and black wallpaper in the foyer” to my ‘Would be Nice-If’s’ list.
I had been yearning for some new experience, some other reality. Interestingly, another reality is not really a thing, and there is only one reality, hence the universe sending me back to the very same place I started. It seemed easier to accept this tragic comedy, and free my emotions to come and go as they pleased. Emotions are rather rude anyway. They never announce themselves and they leave without saying goodbye. I was happy to let them be themselves.
I walked out to the back porch. There I saw the healthy blossoming rosy bells of the wild huckleberries. Each year I extended the land to increase the yield with planned burnings, and the earth around them seemed even more vibrant. I’ve always been allergic, but this seemed like a small sacrifice, as I enjoyed their harvest. The event really wasn’t as catastrophic as I had thought. Here I am beginning again, with a new and different moment before me, seemingly no different than any yesterday, and probably no different than tomorrow, but satisfyingly blissful as only today can be.