Monday, March 19, 2012

The Dream Fields

When I was six years old I remember I would lay down in the tall grass for hours and float in and out of reality. The grass framed the blue sky, which was the stage the clouds would use to act out scenes which were interwoven with the stories they evoked in my imagination. Time let loose its hold allowing all my senses to be fully present in a state of union with creation.  At times, I would transcend the physical density of the grass, ants, stones, and soil that supported me and everything would soften, and I would walk through it, into another time and place.  It was sublime and peaceful.  Yet, sometimes an inkling would start to grow inside me, as if feeling I had wondered too deep into a cave, taken too many turns, and wouldn't be able to find my way back.  As this feeling grew inside me, the silhouettes of my surroundings began to reappear, their outlines hardening, like bars of a prison, and I returned to field.

Sometimes I try to return to this special place I know exists, but it's much harder now, as time has tightened it's grip over the years.  I know that when I grow old, and my responsibilities lessen, it will be easier to make this journey.  But I wonder if fearing I've gone too far and wont be able to return to this earth will once again bring me back.

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