| Looking for Light, Part 2 |
| At one point, I got restless. I wanted to rush, to heave myself over the edge. The voice counseled me to wait until I was sure, and I began to understand that in one way at least those below were right, that it was a major thing, that once I ascended the last few feet I would have a new vision, a new view, that nothing would ever be the same again. And then suddenly I knew that I had to do it, that it was right, that, having come so far, fought so hard, I could not fall back, that it was worth it, to have a hope of finding Light. I summoned all my courage and shouted, "I want to come up! Help me! Help me!" Instantly, a dozen hands reached down to mine and pulled. I scrambled, and found myself blinking on the verge of a highway, surrounded by strangers, kindly strangers, their faces wreathed in smiles of welcome. "Congratulations! You're on the way!" And though I didn't know I was hungry, they fed me, and though I didn't know I was naked, they clothed me. And though I didn't know I was lonely, they comforted me, saying, "We can't be with you forever; sometimes we have to follow different parts of the road. But we'll walk with you a while, and teach you what you need to find the way." They pointed, and I really looked for the first time at the road. It seems to go on forever, and only parts of it are lit, sometimes by solitary lamps, streetlights, sometimes by campfires around which travelers gather to refresh and strengthen themselves and share their knowledge and experience of the road. It's an old, old course, and although in some sections the original pavement is as strong and smooth as ever, in others it is cracked and has almost been obscured by weeds. They say that when I get to the rough parts there will always be other wayfarers to help me, that everyone who takes this journey is a member of an almost innumerable fraternity, as diverse as the lost hordes below, but united in their goal: to reach the Light. I was wrong, you see: what I thought was Light was actually only a twilight, a resting place, a place to pause and read the guidebook, because there is one, and it glows of itself, is illuminated from within. They say that it was made of the true Light, and that's why we can read it and learn about the way. |
| I'm learning to read, and in the meantime the others are telling me things, to help me get started. Because: if you face the East, far, far away, you can see Something. I can't describe it, but it shines. It shines brilliantly, and beckons sweetly, and from that direction you hear the loveliest music ever composed, and from that direction comes the most marvelous scent, all the beautiful scents you have ever known, plus some more that you haven't, and once you have caught a glimpse of that something, a note of that music, a hint of that perfume, you want more than you have ever imagined you could want anything, to begin to put one foot before the other on the great road, to begin the journey to that sublime Light, the Light of all the worlds. I'm new at this, and unsure of my footing. There are rules to ease the trip, to make it safer and more comfortable and swifter, and if one does not learn and follow them she is in real danger of slipping back towards darkness. I only know a few of the rules so far, only the basics, but I want so much to learn, and these wonderful people are teaching me, helping me, making me one of their number so that even when the time comes when we must part I will not falter, will not go astray. Not everybody completes the journey, they tell me. There are distractions from below and from one's own heart; there are times when one is tired and discouraged and sick, when it is very hard to go on. There are the times when one must look at the guidebook and turn to others on the same path, to obtain advice and encouragement and admonition and direction. But listen: all who make it to the Something will be reunited in love and companionship, and will live forever in joy, in that shining place, and never have to worry or to struggle or to slip or to cry again, and will never again have to fear the dark. Cheektowaga, New York, USA November, 1986 |