“Step in,” she said. “Things will become clearer.”
We were standing on a precipice, with an eternity of possibility stretched out in front of us and below us. Colors, smells, and sounds clashing and zooming by. I felt the winds of conflict ruffle my hair and a distinct taste of despair linger on my tongue. It was like a laser light show on acid. But it was instead the thundering potentials of my life.
“I am too afraid.”
“Take your time,” she said.
“All of this … could be me?”
“All of this is you.”
I wondered how she had found this place. Up above, the violence of it all struck me, filled me with terror, but also a kind of frenzied excitement, like the battle madness of the Northmen. I was afraid, but I was more afraid of leaving the mountain of possibility than entering the cloud itself. The luscious possibility of entering the glittering fray loomed in front of me, but that was where I wanted it to stay. I had never before removed myself from the madness of the going forward. Here, up above, the chaos underneath was finally evident. It reminded me of driving into L.A. from the mountains and seeing the shroud of smog like never before.
I let go of her hand and stepped in. She whispered a trailing goodbye.
She was right. Things did become clearer as I walked. The competing sounds were, one by one, filtered out, and I now hear only one note.