(A quick note: what you are about to read is a portion of a larger project. I don’t quite know where this is going, yet. I normally don’t post “unfinished” musings. But, I’ve been writing to you for quite some time about getting outside your comfort zone and thinking outside your comfortable box so it’s only fair that I do the same thing. Here’s to being uncomfortable and thus getting more out of Life!)
LIGHTING FIRES IN THE ORDINARY LAND OF WEARINESS
A Collection of Over-Adventures
For Those Who Fancy Something More In Their Lives
PIÈCE DE RÉSISTANCE
in which you learn that a room without a ceiling is electrifying, light can be heavy,
and it is possible to imagine what is unimaginable
Because we have to start somewhere and this is as good a place as any, you find yourself, all alone, in a stark, square, snowy-white space. Scanning your surroundings, it quickly and skillfully registers—there are no doors. No coming in. No going out. Not no how, not no way (to borrow freely and fearlessly from a rather fancy-schmancy, famous movie you might have followed when you were younger). Don’t worry: How you got to where you are is a puzzle to be puzzled out at the end of this fantasy.
As you stand there a little baffled at your surroundings, as quick as lightning—and that, my dear friend, will be most important in a moment—you see that each of the four sealed walls and the barren floor are perfectly and entirely indistinguishable from each other—except, of course, that you are standing on the floor (if you were standing on one of the walls that would be certainly more magical but a different tale altogether, now wouldn’t it?). They all seem to glow with some inner dazzle that makes their whiteness even more magnificent and mystical. And that gleam happily casts back and up on you so that you, too, seem to glimmer with some privileged sparkle.
As star-light, star-bright (nope—no wishes, yet—that’s for later) as the walls and floor might be, you notice that the ceiling is just as profoundly and somberly dark (if you’re still fearful of the dark like you were as a child, you might as well stop reading now; everybody knows that it always gets darkest before things start to dawn on you, and I wouldn’t want to be accused of burdening you with a harrowing adventure. Or would I? Never mind . . . keep reading, it all turns out okay in the end. These kinds of tales always do.) Oh wait—that’s not a ceiling; the top of your extraordinarily fantastic room has, in the most brash manner, been left willfully open. The coal-blackness you are looking at is the inky night sky looking back at you! And while both of you duly regard each other with fitting awe and ill-fitting interest, you start to notice the fascinating flashes of intense light that intensely bring to light the flashy presence of tempestuous clouds. Some of the lights are merely teasing twinkles, others are so lively and furiously bright they render you so sightless that your room seems to become invisible. And now you catch on that what you are seeing is one of those beyond-your-wildest-dreams lightning storms you’ve always wanted to be part of. (You figure all this out on your own, by the way, because each lightning flash – I think the secret has been leaked and we can securely call it that now – is meticulously stalked by a roll of thunder. It’s unmistakable; the clap, crack and peal sounds like the clouds, themselves, are colliding with each other.)
Before long you latch onto the momentous idea—fleeting as the concept might be to those sad souls who have forgotten how to dream or who don’t read silver-tongued tales—that the time that passes from the sights to the sounds is a careful clue; an ageless hint that has cautiously been crafted so you know in a cinch which flash of brilliance is close enough to capture, and which is a godforsaken gap away. (After all, there is no need to go to all the bother to rub elbows in the remote regions of the heavens with a bad-tempered lightning bolt that likely won’t like you, in any absurd event, and will, most likely, only net you a mouthful of storm clouds.) And so you decide to demonstrate your cleverness and latch on to one of the bolts that is on the verge of striking you, anyway.
You resolve that with an abducted bolt of animated light in an allegorical pocket, you could literally conquer the world. As nimble and quick as you can put a match to your plan, you lift yourself up onto your tiptoes and reach your hands high up into the open sky in preparation to snatch the next thunderbolt that passes close enough to be imprisoned. Then it happens—almost in slow motion—first it is a pinprick that barely registers in the back of your mind, then it grows to a burning line of white and, before it can finish its streak across the sky and wink out with a final loud clap, you make a do-or-die jump and seize the splay of lightning with both hands. Even as you touch the light and the light touches you, it is as if the two of you welcome each other with open arms; as though this fusing of your intent and the light’s energy was always meant to be.
As the lightning becomes a part of you, you notice that the sky is, alas, no more and there is now a ceiling in your room. Everything glows around you. Alive. Vibrant. The whole world feels bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. And it is then—and only then—that you decide to point a finger at one of the walls; an indication of your intent and a way to signal what you desire. Even as you gesture – nearly as quick as lightning, so to speak – a door appears. Just. For. You. It’s how you got here in the first place you suddenly realize. It’s how you can get out, if you want to.
What do you do next? And, does it really matter in any way or at all? You see, you can have anything you want with a little lightning in your pocket.
One more thing (again) . . . I’d love to know what you think of this continued, little exercise and whether you would like to see Chapter 2. You can join in the conversation by subscribing to my blog at http://thinkingmagically.com or you joining me on any of the major social media sites to take this discussion to an even deeper level.