A Way Back To Life

In the darkness I gasp for breath. It's always about breathing. So interconnected are the heart and lungs that one cannot feel without the other. There is a slow and inconsistent fluttering in my chest. It is a bird in a tiny cage, trying to stretch, but it keeps flapping its wings in too small a space. Hitting the walls of my heart and bruising them. And then it rests, saving up strength to flutter again.

The fluttering is so gentle. How can it bruise so deeply?

The bird tries again. This time it is hitting its head against the wall. Desperate to be free!

"Stop!" I beg. I try to explain that the more it fights the more it hurts. The smaller the space will feel.

One breath. But it's too tight. I can feel the air as it fights its way free.

"Stop fighting me!" I cry. "I know. I can feel your suffering. You are part of me."

Quiet. Feel that. Patience. Rest.

But the beating grows faster and there is a ripping as the breath disrupts the bird in its cage and it panics, a whirring of wings and talons. And again I am running, trying to escape my heart and lungs as they overwhelm me from within.

The running does nothing to calm the wild bird or bring new air to my lungs. There is no running from the pain. But neither can I look the aching little bird in the eyes. There is no explaining. Will it ever understand?

Peace. Be still.

It always comes back to the need for rest.

Be calm.

But you cannot calm the storm. The winds and waves consume. There is no calm.

Go back. Go back! Move forward. Run. Flee! The emotions storm and pull. Everything is moving every which way at once and there is no peace. Wind beats against me. Salty waves crash over me, wearing me down. I cannot get free of these waves, and I am battered again and again and then I hit something solid and instead of pain it is something to grasp and I cling to it and clamor desperately for strength, for freedom, for light. A rock among the waves and the moment my head breaks the surface I can feel warmth. A wave crashes again and I am battered down below, but I felt the warmth. It is there if I can only stay afloat. And instead of fighting for the surface I let go and I can feel the strength of the rock and I climb on high. Once I am resting above the waves I can feel the full warmth of the sun drying me, warming me. Saving me.

"Fear ye not, stand still, and see the salvation of Jehovah, which He will do for you today." (Exodus 14:13)

The Gray

This time I was surrounded by blackness. It wasn't that total black that makes you think that there just is nothing around you. It was a dull gray. A painted gray. It was real, but an absence of color that was swirling all around me.

Before there had been something to reach for, something to focus on, but here, everywhere I looked was darkness. It wasn't sad or scary. It just wasn't.

I sat down. It wasn't tumultuous. I guess it was still. But I didn't feel panicked. I didn't feel worried. I didn't feel scared. I didn't feel bored. I just didn't feel.

I don't know how long I sat in this gray, misty substance, but I had no desire to move. I could have just drifted off to sleep and it would have just been effortless and calm. But as I sat there was a prick inside me and I doubled over and opened my mouth to speak but instead endless air rushed in to me, filling my lungs and expanding my chest. It felt so good that it hurt.

I was now crouched in the grayness looking around me for something, anything to focus my eyes on. I began to panic. Everything around me was the same. I felt stuck and despite the life giving breath I had just received, my breathing became shallow and I gasped for air even though the air around me was as clear and pure as any I'd ever breathed, but it hurt as it came in my nose and throat. It was like my nostrils had forgotten what it felt like to breathe. Every breath hurt and at last I had to put my shirt over my mouth and nose to keep the fresh air out. My shirt worked as a filter and I could breathe in this clean air without the intense pain.

But now I noticed my shirt; it was the same gray nothingness and so was my skin. I let out a dull scream as I stared at my dead looking hand. "Help" I breathed. But it came out as a rasp.

I tried again, but I was still coughing on this fresh air and couldn't fill my lungs anymore. I was afraid to breathe deeply. It hurt. But without the air I would not be able to speak. I lowered my shirt from my mouth and breathed in deeply. The pain ripped at my throat and the first sound out was a silent scream.

I tried again and took a more cautious breath. Was I getting used to it? I felt less light headed and more ready to feel.

"Help!" I tried again, and the sound carried a bit more. With a bit more practice I was able to breathe more easily and began shouting.

"Help me!" I cried. "Can anyone hear me?" but there was no answer. Even my own voice did not send back a comforting echo. I was completely alone. There was no sound but me. And now I could hear my breathing like it was right by my ears and I screamed and tried to burry my mouth and ears with my gray arms.

I stayed like this for too long. Curled up in a ball facing the ground. I only moved because I felt warmth on my back and it scared me. I cautiously crept out of my hiding and noticed that the grayness was being replaced by a yellowness that seemed to be seeping in around me and encompassing me with warmth.

I didn't like it. The grayness had become a sort of comfort and even though I wanted the grayness to end I wasn't sure that I wanted this instead. It felt invasive.

It was getting brighter. I put my hand up to block the light, even as I looked toward it, and gasped because my hand was flooding with color.

I dropped it and looked down, but my clothes were still gray and the brightness was still growing.

"Stop!" I whimpered. "Stop! It can't be so bright. Stop!" But there was nothing I could do. It kept growing and my eyes began to ache even though I closed them tightly. I was not in control and as soon as I realized this I realized that my breathing had become shallow and scratchy. And I remembered that my breathing had been the one thing I could control. I couldn't control the intensity of the air I breathed but I could control the depth. I tried again to focus on that and as I breathed I saw the lightness begin to slow and hasten as I breathed in and out.

Was I controlling the light? but as I looked into its brightness I knew that it was not me. I could only control my reception of it and so I took a slow deep breath and saw the brightness approaching in equal measure to my breath.

I closed my eyes and listened to my beating heart.

Look Up!

The redness is back. It's dark this time. Not the bright throbbing glow that drew me last time. It's a deep beautiful red. Is it even the same?

The redness is back and it's pulling me again.

I flinch when I see it. It hurt so much last time. It hurt when I drew near and it hurt as I pulled away from it. Is it even the same red?

The fiery glow that pulled me in last time nearly hurt my eyes it was so vibrant with life. This redness is deep and soothing. I'm not sure if it should be described as vibrant or not. It's full. I must describe it as full.

I see it now. There is a golden glow beyond the red. Mingling in a flash of light.

There is a pain in my chest as I look at the redness. Is the pain a memory or a real feeling? It hurt so much last time! My throat begins to feel sore with the memory.

"Stop." I say to myself. I turn away from the red, but it is all around me. There is no turning from it. I look down and my feet are bathed in the darkness. I look up and rather than feeling trapped I feel close and safe as I see the wide expanse above me. Suddenly there is a dark, deep blue with a myriad of stars.

This tightness, and yet this broad expanse. I should feel nervous. I should feel scared, but the tightness in my chest begins to release. I am surrounded all around by a dark, warm red and above there is so much deepness and light.

Hands slightly open, I begin to turn slowly on the spot looking up at the stars. Is there a familiar constellation in the heavens or are these not my stars? There are so many more than on an average night that it is filling in the expanse. I cannot tell if I should know this place or not.

But I do. Something about it is familiar. No, not familiar. I've never seen this before, but I recognize it. There is something about this that feels safe. I am at home here. Overwhelmed, I fall back but instead of thudding to the ground I fall gradually. The transition from standing to lying is one I hardly noticed.

But suddenly I feel cold. The pain should come, should it not? It hurt so much last time. I was sure that I would shatter.

Instead of enjoying my surroundings I was suddenly shivering in fear. Fear of something that might not happen. Indeed, there was a pleasantness in my chest that seemed to be saying "Do not be afraid." But I was sure that the pain would return and I did not trust the feeling. I curled myself up, looking away from the stars. But folded up, with my face pressed into the ground the red still reached through my eyelids, insistent through my avoidance.

There was no pain, only fear. But the fear began to manifest as pain. My eyelids began to hurt. My stomach knotted with worry and my heart started beating too fast.

"Please stop!" I gasped, pushing on the pain in my chest.

"You are creating the pain." I don't know where the voice came from. I knew it was true, but I didn't know how to stop it. I tried to slow my heart beat just by thinking about it. But thinking about it scared me. I felt so cold and though I tried to stop myself from shivering I could feel my teeth chattering.

Slowly I again became aware of how warm and inviting my surroundings were. But I was still afraid.

"Look up." The voice said.

I was afraid. But how much had it hurt last time? Last time. Everything hurt more than words last time. But then there was peace. I knew that. I knew it then and I knew it now, but trust hurt before the initial plunge.

"Get it over with," I told myself. "You're hurting yourself now. You, and you alone are causing this torment. Look up."

"Look up," the voice that was mine repeated.

But as easy as it would have been to turn my head I couldn't. Resolutely I looked inward. Rolled as tightly as I could I was looking in at myself. Trying to protect my feelings. My heart, my lungs.

But I was causing the tightness. I was causing the pain.

"Look up."

In one violent wrench I tore myself out and looked upward. Light was streaming from the sky. The redness around me and the blue above were mingling together in strong waves. Water poured from my eyes as I beheld the striations of light and color. The beads of wet on my eyelashes added another dimension to the light and colors, refracted in my tears.

But I was safe. Again. Just as I had known I would be. I looked about at the mingling colors and down at the purple and white reflecting off my skin and I laughed.

It was relief. I was safe. I had always been safe. I had caused the feelings of fear and anxiety, but the safety had been around me perpetually. I was safe. I had always been safe.

What the blazes?

... right in the middle of a sentence.

I think I like to fight the cliche of beginning a story with "Once upon a time". So I don't know how else to start one except for abruptly.


Wind and sun. Dry heat. I wandered across the bright meadows. It was lovely and unencumbered. Some kind of white flowers dotted the golden field, but my eyes hardly took it in. I followed on toward the redness blazing ahead of me.

It was growing. Or was it shrinking? Frightened, following my impulse, I started running toward it. It wasn't growing. I was just getting closer to it. It was shrinking, but the rate at which I approached it meant that the size didn't change. It gave the illusion that I was running on a treadmill. It seemed too much like I wasn't moving and all of the sudden I became dizzy and had to drop to the ground, breathing heavily. I looked up at the brightness and could now see that it was shrinking away. In a panic I began running again. I couldn't lose it. I had to make it there in time, even though I didn't know what I was running for. I sprinted, gasping for breath as it pulled away from me. I felt the glow of the redness on my skin. I looked down and instead of seeing the expected red, the light reflected as blue on my skin. It was surreal, but I couldn't register the meaning. I had to reach it before it was completely gone.

I reached out my hand. It was just--

"Stop. Don't do it."

I withdrew my hand guiltily. Who had said that? I looked around. About fifteen yards away there was a man. I didn't know his face, but I trusted him. I trusted him, but I still wanted to know why I shouldn't reach for the redness.

"Why not?" I asked.

At this point the redness was not changing in size, but growing in intensity. It made me long to reach for it, but I refrained, waiting for an answer.

"Because you're not supposed to." He wasn't yelling, but it was like his voice was fighting against a strong wind. "Don't reach for it," he warned again.

"But..." I began. Torn between trust and longing. "But... but I want to!" And the intensity of the redness was creating a storm. I felt pulled toward it and at the same time pushed away. It was as if the unknown man and I were pushing toward a wall of wind and shouting to each other to be heard, and yet we weren't shouting and his voice sounded close, and safe, and I believed him.

"Trust me," he said. And he reached his hand toward me. And I felt intense fear and loneliness. I turned toward the red glow. I could feel the warmth. I took a step.

"Please!" he said, and his hand was a gift in the brightness.

"I can't." I apologized. And I took another step toward the glow. And I began to cry.

Maybe he was right. I stopped. I looked at the hand. The kindness he was offering. The love. I thought I should try. One step toward him. And there was gut wrenching pain and I was crippled. I fell to the ground.

It was a sign. I knew that I should have kept toward the glow. My face turned back toward it. The pain receded a little. I crawled a little bit toward the intensifying red.

"Trust me," the man said again. My eyes were burning with tears. I could feel the drips falling whichever way they chose. One hitting the corner of my mouth, one rolling toward my ear, leaving salty trails on my skin. I didn't even want to turn toward the man. It hurt too much.

"I'm going to crawl into the light," I said. Mostly to myself. I didn't care if he heard.

"Trust me," he said a third time. I chanced a look. Such warmth, but my head split.

"Okay," I whispered. And it tore my throat to say it. I reached out my hand and as I did I could feel the ripping in my chest and I wanted to withdraw, but as soon as my hand touched his it was firmly in his grasp and he pulled me away from the glow. I was being pulled toward safety and to him.