The Field of Dreams is somewhere in Jordan, a place not too far a drive from the city of Urbid if you don't pay attention to it. It is a place, where you have traveled up from the dry desert into the high mountains to reach. You walk, there are forests. You smell, it is moist. Your passage is not silent, as you see under your feet the ground is paved with ancient pottery, thousands of years old, along with seashells, seemingly far out of place, and older than the telephone or the English language or the wheel. Lying there. There are so many of each, no one bothers to collect any. You walk, you try to be careful, you are stepping on history. But gradually you stop, you give up. Why? There are so many? The path you take will not destroy a noticeable amount. The seashells are not important, the creatures that inhabited them have long since passed away. But they left a legacy, a legacy that has endured for countless centuries. And here you step on it, as you do not have the will not to. You look around, you see no one. You listen, you here nothing. It is only you, and the seashells, and their legacy. The memory of them, who lived their mindless lives simply surviving and reproducing. And yet left a beautiful, delicate gift that touches you today, as enduring as any memorial erected by man.

You move on, you see a piece of pottery, it is something you can relate to. Something someone made with their hands, you cannot step on this. It was somebodys dreams and experience, their plan to survive and gain success. They puts hours of work and planning and risk and hope, and you would be so bold as to simply walk on it? No, you feel you must leave the tranquility of the Field of Dreams, for you have already destroyed so much legacy, and brought nothing to replace it with. The place you are in, it is surrounded by hills, as if the hills were the place of an audience, and the flat ground in the center the stage for the performers. But what did they do? Did the sea creatures come to die? To mate? To live? Did the people come to make trade? To be merry? To make war? It does not matter, they came here to make. Creation and Destruction, both are making, both caused progress of some kind, both could be good or bad. But you can not judge, you do not know. The pottery, the people.

What are you to do? You must simply stand where you are, and wonder, and relax, and know, and enjoy. You must sit, and see the memories, here the sounds, feel the activity of the passed. You must do it as long as you can, as going back to your car will cause more destruction to this place. You have done so much, you must at least stay and let them return something to you, good or bad. A day of boredom, and evening of deep reflection, a night of relaxation. Whatever you are willing to let them give as a gift or inflict as a punishment. Maybe if you stay long enough you will know that you have given them what they wanted, and that you can leave, as all know that everyone must die, and nothing lasts forever, not even beautiful legacys. You wonder what you say if you could, whether you would chit chat about the weather or engage in something intellectual or if you would just sit there with the ancient one, and listen to the wisdom of their silence.

But eventually you must leave, you must crunch your way over to the car, you must wince as the sound of the engine breaks what was once a beautifully silent night. You must cry as you hear the crackling as your tires ruthlessly crushing seashells, pottery. Creatures, people. But you must know, they knew it was coming, that it was bound to happen someday, and that they are not saddened. As you drive away you see the village people, they move with grace, they talk quietly and with no urgence. You wonder, have they to experienced what you have? Have they to not seen and not heard but felt? Have they to been to The Field of Dreams? You look on them with new understanding, to know that the pottery they make will someday somehow end up shattered and fragmented and spread across the field. That some day in the future, someone else will go through what you did.

You see these people, they are happy, they are content. You wonder, what do you really have that they don't? You who are pressured daily to make the money, pay the bills, get ahead, beat the competition. You conversely get all the benefits of your world. But are you any happier then they are? They who can go to the field any time, and know that someday they will be a part of it.