Thursday, March 1, 2012
A jagged cliff hangs suspended in empty space. White swirling fog blurs the line between ground and sky, so that the clouds seem close enough to touch, no longer ethereal. No longer distant. My time has come. Nothing above me, nothing below me. There is a universe of possibilities, I know, extending on through the rushing wind, though I can see nothing but what is here with me now. A tree, solitary and worn smooth by weather, perches itself on the cliff face. Branches extend eagerly to the open sky and roots plunge deep into the hard rock, protruding in places out over nothing, defying gravity and daring it to take effect. I understand the tree. A lone crow take flight with a sudden cry and plunges into the mysterious white heaven that surrounds us. My time has come. With the courage of my tree I reach out a hand into space and take my first step to fly.