We Are One

We Are One
--
A long, poorly lit corridor, untouched for so long.

No one has set foot there, because the years of dust show no signs of entry.

The cobwebs hang and dance. Moving slightly in the breeze.
​
A woman, an explorer, approaches the outer door. She swipes away the dust, revealing something engraved on the wall.

​She looks it over, examines the markings. She holds an old parchment next to the engraving. The pictures match.

With confidence, sureness, she grasps the handle and turns it. The door refuses to budge.

She checks her drawing again. Nodding her head slightly, and puts the parchment away.

She grabs the handle with both hands, turns it the other way. With all her might, she pulls. The door budges. Years of rust, of neglect, do not make this easy. She leverages her foot on the wall, and pulls with ferocity.

The door cracks open. With more effort, the heavy door opens.

A rush of stale air bursts out. The dust around the door explodes from this sudden movement.

​She takes off her hat, coughing, waving the dust away.

Into the darkness she peers. The corridor is black, obsidian black.

She takes a torch from the side of the door, from a pocket she retreives matches, and lights the torch.

The flame flickers to life, casting a glow. The explorer looks into the long corridor. The darkness seems to absorb the flame - for nothing can be seen.
​
She takes a cautious step. Not sure what lies ahead, but sure that this is the place.

A few more steps in, it is still dark. Blackest than the blackest of nights. She holds the torch up. The pool of light does not extend far.

She looks around. The stone walls covered in moss, spiders scurrying away from the light. The flame flickers and dances in the breeze.

​Further into the corridor she treads. Eons of dust lay on the ground. No foot has touched this ground in a very long time.

She walks along. Her boots crunching on the stones. There is a perverse quiet, a solitude, here.

Cobwebs hang all around. Sometimes she has to brush them away with the torch.

She looks back. The door cannot be seen anymore.

The breeze is strong here. She tightens up her coat, hefts her backpack.

Knowing she must do this, she ventures on.
​
She walks slowly, cautiously, for it is difficult to see far. The flame affords only a few paces of light.

A curve in the corridor halts her. She looks carefully. There are stairs leading down.

Scanning her surroundings, she looks on the moss covered walls. Water trickling down. Drip, drip...

From a pocket she pulls out the parchment. She holds it up against the wall.

In the light of the flame she examines it again. Turning the parchment one way, then the other.

The parchment is put back in her pocket. She looks to the wall and brushes away a layer of dust and cobwebs.

Yes, there it is. What she has been looking for. The picture which has burned in her thoughts, her dreams, for years.
​
People thought she was crazy, eccentric even. But she knew something.

She looks again at the engraving in the wall. Two rings.

From a small pocket she pulls out a bundle of cloth. She unfolds it slowly, exposing the contents. A single ring.

She examines it in the light of the flame. The ring is very old. Tarnished, chipped, marred. She has kept this ring for years.

Holding the ring up, beside the engraving, it matches. Her heart beats slightly faster with excitement. She places the ring into the wall carving.

Nothing.

She waits. Wonders.

​Nothing.

Was this all for naught? To have come this far.....

Then...

There is a shuddering. A movement. Not sure where it is coming from, she backs against the wall.

A grinding sound. Stone against stone, becomes more intense. She holds up the flame, looking around. Nothing can be seen.

Everything starts to shake. Dust starts to fall. The grinding gets louder. From where?....

The sound of stone on stone gets closer. The ground shakes more. She has to hold the wall to stay standing. The sound is almost deafening.

Dust fills the air from all the shaking.
​
Then, the grinding gets closer. She looks to the stairs in the dim light. A floor is appearing over them. A stone floor sliding out from the walls.

On this new floor is a larger engraving of the same two rings.

Ahhhh... this must be the way.

The floor halts with a shudder. She looks across it, takes a cautious step. The floor is solid. She steps forward carefully.

Just a few steps is all it takes to cross.

Many a fool would have surely gone down those stairs and been lost forever.

She turns, looks forward to her path, and continues. The sound of her boots echoing in the emptiness.
​
Further she travels along. The corridor winding one way, then the other.

There are sounds...? From where? Or is it her imagination.

The stone crunches under her boots. The flame of the torch flickers in the air.

She looks at the flame. Yes, it seems to be moving, pointing towards her destination.

Her ears listen. Carefully. Little scurrying sounds, as the beetles run away from the light.

Drip, drip... Water runs down the stone walls. She can smell the damp, stale air.

The corridor continues and continues. She is not aware of the time. Did she start ten minutes ago? Or an hour ago?

The path seems to stop. A wall?
​
No, wait. Left or right.

She holds up the torch. Looking at the flame. Like a compass it points. She follows to her right.

Further and further she treads. The flame offers little light, only a few feet worth. There is no way of knowing where she is.

If she got lost here, her bones would become part of the dust, no one would ever know.

The corridor winds along. She does not know which is left or right, up or down, anymore.

Crunch, crunch, as her boots move over the stone floor.

A fear sets in. Has she gone too far? She knows fear is good though, it makes you think. But still, to give up would be destroying a dream.
​
The cobwebs are thick now. Nothing but spiders and bugs have come this way.

She stops. Something is different in the air. Hmmmm... could it be her imagination? She closes her eyes and breathes carefully, sensing the air.

Yes, there is a difference. But what?

She holds the torch up. Nothing can be seen in the darkness. But yet, her flame compass still points, urging her onward.

Shaking herself, she continues, relying only on her torch to guide her. Which, if it were to extinguish, she would be lost. Yet, somehow, it still burns.

Is it burning brighter? Not sure.

The corridor seems to be going up. The turns continue. Left, right, left, right. But gradually, her path seems to be going up...

What is that? Are her eyes playing tricks on her? After being in the darkness for so long, it is hard to say.
​
A brightness? A light? How far away? It is difficult to tell.

She wants to run to it. But that could be dangerous. It is still good to be careful. But she does quicken her pace.

Yes, the brightness is growing. Still hard to tell how far away it is. There is no sense of distance here. What is a foot, could very well be a mile.

Is her path climbing? It seems to be. Yes, it is. Her legs seem to be working harder to push her onward.

There is a confidence in her stride. She knows this has to be it. Must be it.

She checks her flame compass again. Yes, the pull is stronger.

Higher her path takes her. The climb is becoming an effort now. She looks ahead. Yes, the brightness is still there. In fact, even more.
​
The climb is becoming harder. The light urges her on. She wants to get there faster. To do so, she decides to drop her heavy pack.

She knows she won't need it anymore.

Undoing the straps, she puts down the heavy weight. All that baggage she has carried no longer serves her.

She feels lighter now. Making her trek a bit easier.

The climb becomes more steep. The distant light is growing, it pulls her.

Why is she starting to sweat? Is it getting warmer?

The effort to climb is becoming harder. Her leg muscles are exerting more effort.

She stops. Looks ahead. The brightness is more now. Still not sure how far it is. It is getting warmer. Not so damp and chilly anymore.

Her coat is becoming heavy. So she undoes her coat, takes it off, and carefully lays it down on the ground. Letting go.
​
She can feel the breeze now, through her tunic. Cooling her. Feeling lighter, with renewed energy she presses on.

Harder the climb is becoming. Often she has to stop to catch her breath. Her body is getting warmer. She drinks some water from her bottle.

Wipes the sweat from her brow.

The distant light is much brighter now. The climb is becoming harder. Every step more effort.

She presses on. Muscles aching now. One step, then another.

The stones are ending...?? Yes, the ground, there is a difference.

Grass... she desires to feel that under her feet, so she stops, sits, and discards her boots.
​
Setting her bare feet on the ground, she wiggles her toes in the grass. So soft and fresh.

She wants more. The climb is becoming harder. Her leg muscles burn more.

The distant light almost reaches her. It is so bright!

Her feet move in the soft grass. She stops because of the effort, but also to feel the ground.

Her body is getting warmer with the effort to climb. Her tunic starts to chafe her body in the sweat. She undoes her tunic and drops it to the grass.

It becomes easier to move.

With renewed energy she continues on her path. Climbing higher and higher.
​
The light is close enough that it begins to light her way. The torch is no longer required. She places it down on a stone, and lets go of her guide through the darkness.

It is much, much warmer. How is this possible?

She stops, closes her eyes and feels the heat over her bare breasts. The feeling is almost erotic.

Opening her eyes, she looks down at her feet in the soft grass. Oh, to feel that all over her body.

She wonders, should I take off my trousers? She looks around. Then laughs at being so silly. Of course, there is no one around. No one to see her.
​
She undoes her belt and buttons, slides her trousers down and steps out of them.

A sense of abandon, a sense of freedom, a sense of newness.

She lays on the soft ground. Eyes closed, she feels a calm energy permeate her body. She has a sensation of floating.

What am I feeling? What is this?

She opens her eyes. Did she drift off?

She looks up to the light. Something, someone.... is there?

Standing. Her body bare. She looks at herself. Not ashamed to be naked. In fact, a sense of newness, of rebirth.

The light is close now, lighting her way. But so bright! She has to shield her eyes from being in the darkness for so long.
​
Flowers! As her eyes become accustomed to the light, she notices her surroundings. An oasis. Flora and fauna surround her everywhere.

Such beauty! She dances around. Feeling the ground. Running her hands over the plants. Touching everything. She laughs and giggles.

She stops for a moment and look around. A sense of embarrassment. Silly. There is no one here. She dances more, frolicking in this beautiful place.

She lets go. Let's it all out. Nothing is stopping her now. She greets every plant. Touches them. Kisses them.

Her laughter fills this oasis. Her body completely exposed for all to see. She has let go of everything, stripped of her past.

She continues along her path, her nude body dancing.
​
The ground levels out. A mountain plateau. The oasis is adorned with all varieties of colourful plants, everything imaginable.

Butterflies flitter through the air. She chases after one, but gives up and laughs.

How can this be? Where am I?

She notices a path. Not exactly a path. But somehow she knows to follow it.

Where can it go? But she feels something pulling her.

Every step is pure joy and delight. Plants, trees, birds, butterflies. The sound of water? She strains her hearing. Yes, it is.

Onward she goes. Dancing in sheer abandonment. Giggling, laughing.
​
The sound of water is closer. She follows the path, turns, the sound of water becomes a brook. The water is so beautiful!

Laughing out loud, she jumps in. Ahhhh... the water is so fresh and pure. She splashes everywhere, giggling.

A sense of refreshment, to wash away everything. To start new, to start clean. She lays in the shallow water, moving her arms back and forth, wondering. What else is here? Where does this brook go?

She steps out, looks around. Yes, the path seems to follow along the water. With the curiosity of a little girl, she follows.

The plants are luscious. Beauty permeates this oasis. She tries to catch another butterfly again, but laughs.
​
Further she ventures along the riverbank.

She stops, notices something in the distance.

A wall...? Stone...? A fountain...? What is it?

She begins to run, anxious to see what it is.

Suddenly, she stops. Another person is here?

She looks around, embarrassed at her nakedness.

Very slowly, quietly, she hides behind a bush.
​​
Holding her breath, she peers out and looks.

Yes, another person. A man? How...?

He is not moving, maybe a statue she thinks. How could anyone else possibly be here?

Sure that what she sees is a statue, she steps out and walks ahead into the open field. Her body naked and bare.

She approaches the figure, closer, closer. He... moved!

She looks around for anything to hide behind. Embarrassed at her nude body. But she is in an open field, no cover is available.

The man gets up. His back is to her. She notices he is also naked.
​
Maybe he doesn't know I am here. But then she is overcome with panic. What if...

He turns and faces her.

She freezes like a deer caught in headlights. She doesn't know what to do...

He smiles. A smile so kind, so warm, so full of love. She can't turn back.

He doesn't move. But there is a glow about him. She feels it, and starts to walk towards him.

He is so beautiful. She senses... love.
​
She keeps walking, getting closer. His smile, his eyes, pulling her closer.

A few feet away she stops.

She wants to ask, to say something, anything... words just don't seem to work.

Somehow she knows... nothing needs to be said.

He holds out his hands, reaching for her. She steps forward, and takes his hands.
​
Immediately, her body is so overcome with love.

Emotions running through her... She wants to cry.

From her head to her toes, her entire body is alive.

This is him.

"Yes, my love. I have been waiting a long time for you."

Huh? where are those words from. His lips did not move.
​
He pulls her to him, wrapping his arms around her.

She feels his warm body, so soft, against hers.

He looks into her eyes. Deep into her bared soul.

The light of love envelopes her.

Their bodies merge together.
​​
"I am in you.
In your mind.
In your heart.
We are One."

--
The Wired Buddha (2013)

Ithaka

As you set out for Ithaka

hope the voyage is a long one,

full of adventure, full of discovery.

Laistrygonians and Cyclops,

angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:

you’ll never find things like that on your way

as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,

as long as a rare excitement

stirs your spirit and your body.

Laistrygonians and Cyclops,

wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them

unless you bring them along inside your soul,

unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope the voyage is a long one.

May there be many a summer morning when,

with what pleasure, what joy,

you come into harbors seen for the first time;

may you stop at Phoenician trading stations

to buy fine things,

mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,

sensual perfume of every kind—

as many sensual perfumes as you can;

and may you visit many Egyptian cities

to gather stores of knowledge from their scholars.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind.

Arriving there is what you are destined for.

But do not hurry the journey at all.

Better if it lasts for years,

so you are old by the time you reach the island,

wealthy with all you have gained on the way,

not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you would not have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.

Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,

you will have understood by then what these Ithaka mean. 
--
Constantine P. Cavafy (1911)

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