You Are Free


(a writer’s meditation for peace)

Gingerly placing the match up to the wick, you light the candle and begin to watch the smoke spiral up. You close your eyes and focus. A blanket of black is thrown over your eyelids. Then. Infinite spirals, dreamless cycles, and the

slowing down of the tic-tocking of time

Unnecessary distortion engulfs the crystal clear truths you know and replaces them with an endless slew of questions. Squares, circles, and triangles dance nervously into your vision. The sensation of breathing resonates deep in your chest matching the twitching desire to move or grab things by your fingertips. Music seems to appeal to every sense, everything smells good and everything tastes good; senses are so fragile they don’t exist. Now. A long stretching road spans out ahead, only the continuous blur of dashed lines signifies forward movement.

(¿)Or is it backwards.Cardinal directions can’t help here. There’s no such thing here. If there is hope for any true measurement it only appears to be in awkward fractions. North East. South West. North West. South East. Though at points a quiet echo of footsteps hitting the pavement is heard other times it’s a low deep murmur of an engine. Where does it lead(?)

Suddenly only darkness can be seen or felt. Both the echo and murmur are gone. Though this darkness isn’t a familiar one it breathes and beckons to you, perpetually letting bright colors frolic to your peripherals only to replace them with black nothing over and over and over again. Explore me. Explore me. As you begin to walk forward the claustrophobic sensation of being in the middle of a crowd of people overwhelms you. The occasional tangling of your limbs with others around you verifies this fact, yet none of the silent bodies produce warmth or provide movement. Only the deep constant breathing of the darkness even suggests there is life around. A dull constant hum crowds your thoughts. You excuse yourself and begin to push through the crowd. There’s no response. First walking and brushing aside limbs, then jogging in between torsos, jogging into a straight run- jostling the motionless dummies around in a deep sweat. Still no response. Somewhere in this aimless darkness a light flashes on. Perhaps it’d even be better to describe it as the darkness being turned off. Underneath a semi-circle of white light you see rows upon endless rows of standing bodies. Eyes closed. Slowly breathing. Comatose. Directly in front of you stands your own naked body standing bereft with the others. Shuddering at this sight you begin to wonder how chilling it is to be completely surrounded by people yet still be alone. Trying to wake yourself up leads only to the light around you dissipating back into darkness. You stop to yell out your name then move to wake the others. Shaking the bodies around you, “Hey! You’re sleeping! You’re sleeping!” Unaware exactly why, you begin to feel as if you need to wake them up. As if maybe that’s why you’re here in this place.

As if woken up from a dream the darkness changes into grey wet pavement, the smell of tobacco, faint dance music, and walls and walls of skyscrapers. Pale moonlight pierces through lusting purple clouds. Somewhere nearby a champagne bottle is popped. Laughter explodes over screeching tires and tireless honking vehicles. From a bird’s eye view you see cars and people passing between buildings with the anticipation of busy worker ants. The city dissolves and becomes an anthill, hundreds of shiny black bodies humming to and fro. And something that feels warm. The feeling of being complete, of being part of a whole: a community. Complex but instinctual inner workings of the anthill flood your mind: you see visions of larva being born, fed, maturing, taking its part in the nest as either a worker; or a fighter; or harvester; etcetera, the amount of interlocking detailed positions and obligations each ant has in order for the colony to survive. No not just to survive but to keep surviving. Then as if zooming out of focus the anthill disappears from mind. You look down and realize you are your human self again climbing on all fours up a white mountain. Snow falls all around but it doesn’t feel cold at all. Stopping for breath you bend to put your hands on your knees before you gasp at the view in front of you. Stumbling in the knee deep snow you find the epic vista introducing itself to you over and over again. Clouds pass through your vision as you peer down into an expansive green valley below. Sounds of birds chirping, wolves howling, bees buzzing, and the pulsing rhythmic inhale-exhale of the whole mountain reach your ears. A cosmic sigh takes place; you feel your spine relax, muscles coming loose. Deep calm but focused energy surges inside of you. You are limitless.

Steady flakes travel downwards continuously till you no longer feel the otherworldly vista out in front of you. Soft cottony ground slips from beneath your feet like a tablecloth being violently ripped away from underneath a strew of utensils. For a second you can even hear the clamorous crash of delicate china dishes or glassware. The mountain is gone, only the snow remains now.


Not the snow.

Only the white.

You are alone.

This time surrounded by alone-ness itself.

Pure, stark, white. Nothing else.

Only a discreet humming in the back of your mind reminds you of your consciousness. Then you realize the source of the noise comes from two colorless orbs vibrating at a perfect pace from each other. Both spheres dance precariously above your head. Straining to move closer to one another but never making progress. You curiously reach up and push the two together forming one larger orb. Once again the vociferous collision of silverware reaches your ears. A sound so loud it isn’t heard. A sensation so pulverizing it doesn’t exist at all. You watch the very fabric of your hands and feet dissolve. Like a large cloth blanket slowly unwinding itself bit by bit, your body begins to fizzle out of existence, spiraling into the white chaos. Spiraling and spiraling in the same way the smoke you’re your flame now spirals out of the candle. You blow the wick out and exhale. You are free.


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