She
awoke as if from a dream and had no supposition concerning the time and
location. Neither had she any idea how long she had been in her current
location. How had she come to be to this place? It’s such a simple question,
but even far wiser, more aged travelers than she would have difficulty in
answering it. Sleep, while a soothing tonic for hurt minds and bodies, is by
definition a natural suspension of consciousness. One does not need to have her
eyes closed in order to be asleep; thus, a slumberer can easily become bewildered
and displaced. Such was the case for the woman.
All
around her was an inky blackness, which made it difficult for her to determine
the depth and width of her surroundings. Imaginative since birth, her mind
immediately began to create scenes on the other side of the black curtain. For
the extraordinarily creative and sensitive, such an enterprise can be both good
and bad. Since boredom is the ultimate anathema, an active imagination is the
antidote. In the same token, such vivid visions can easily turn grotesque,
thereby creating fear. Such was the case for the woman, who since childhood,
had harbored an undisguised dread of darkness.
Her
only saving grace was a thin shaft of light over her head. A seeming pin hole
some distance away, the light created a perfect orb around the area on which
she sat. It was from this light that she was able to see that floor was dark
brown and either rock or cement. The light was not necessary in order for her
to deduce that it was very hard and cold.
While
she collected the sensory details and tried to make sense of them, she heard a
noise high above her. It originated from the pinhole of light far above her
head. At first, she heard the light scuffling of shoes – like sand being ground
in circular patterns on the ceiling. Forgetting her fears, she strained her
ears to analyze the rhythmic cadences and concluded that whoever was above her
was dancing. Then, soft tinkling of laughter as well as a fine layer of dust
drifted downward, covering her head. Encouraged, she smiled and tilted her head
toward the light. Surely, there was someone kind above who would be able to
hear her and help her.
A flash
of pain jolted her from her reverie. It was her back, by her rib cage. The pain
throbbed in time with her heart beat. As she reached around to touch the place,
her fingers detected a bump; she knew without looking that it was already red
and would quickly form a bruise. Then,
there was a stab of pain on the opposite side on her neck. Her hand
instinctively went to her neck, and she spun around to determine the
origin. Then, she felt a grinding twist
of pain on her right thigh.
Something or someone was pinching
her. As she was reacting to a different pain, a new wound was inflicted from
the opposite direction. Wildly, she began to spin in circles, clawing at the
air, screaming at whomever or whatever was tormenting her. Once the physical
pain subsided, she furtively twisted in all directions, finally collapsing,
exhausted and defeated.
For a long while, she wailed and
sobbed. At first, there were tears; then, the tears ran out and only the most
miserable, inhuman sounds erupted from deep within. A new and different pain
emerged from her chest; her heart had broken. It was an utter soul-emptying
experience. Never had she felt so alone and desolate. Finally, when sorrow gave
way to despair, she lay motionless, her cheek pressed to the cold floor. Just
when she thought it was over, a new torment began.
You
realize there is no way out, don’t you? No one knows you are here. No one
misses you. Do you think someone will help you find your way out? And what
would you do even if you found your way out? All around her, voices hissed,
and the darkness seemed more ubiquitous than it had ever been. As she clamped
her hands over her ears, the voices only seemed to intensify, echoing more
loudly and insistently. Finally
exhausted and overwhelmed, she lost consciousness and fell into a deep,
dreamless sleep once more.
In her youth, she had always slept
soundly and deeply, waking refreshed and rejuvenated. As of late, her nocturnal
dormancy was anything but a respite. Often fitful with bouts of insomnia, she
began her days in a fog of languid torpor. Even now, as her eyes opened, her lids felt
thick, swollen, and heavy – lingering remnants of her previous melancholy. Her
limbs were stiff and achy from the unforgiving stone floor.
Slowly, she lifted herself into a
sitting position and morosely scanned her surroundings. Nothing had changed.
Are
you done now?
Since the voice was barely perceptible,
she wasn’t sure if she actually had heard someone speak or if it was her
imagination at work again.
Almost as if it had read her
thoughts, the voice continued, Yes, what
you hear is real. Are you ready to listen?
In considering her last experience
with who or whatever was out there, the woman slid away from the voice to the
edge of the shadows. Where there was one,
others must surely be as well.
There
are no others. They have gone. For now, it is only you and me, the voice
continued.
Panicking, the woman stood and
continued to back away from the voice, moving away from the light and further
into the darkness. Confused and suspicious, the woman remembered that the
voices had brought pain before; she would rather venture into the unknown than
re-live that ordeal.
With the blink of an eye, the lone
light source was suddenly extinguished. All around the woman was an impervious
wall of black. Completely disoriented
and entirely alone, the woman closed her eyes, as they were entirely useless to
her.
In an ordinary circumstance, she
would have been alarmed and might have even screamed. However, at the moment,
she was oddly apathetic. She had experienced the full gamut of emotions and was
therefore, overwrought; there was just nothing left to feel. All of her senses
had been sapped. The only one that was currently of use to her was her sense of
hearing.
Do
I have your full attention now? The voice rang clear and loud; it seemed to
be only a few feet away. Come.
The woman stood still and held her
breath. A war of indecision raged within. Should she trust the voice and walk
toward it, or should she stay still?
What
benefit will it be to stay where you are? Nothing will change, and you will
still be all alone. All I am asking for you to walk toward me. Now that you have no choice but to listen,
consider my voice. Does it sound like the others you heard earlier?
As she pondered the question, the
woman conceded that the voice was calm and soothing where the other voices had
been sibilant and harsh. Exhaling slowly, the woman hesitantly took a step
toward the voice. . then another. . and another until she heard the voice stay Stop. It sounded mere inches from her
face. Sit, please.
The woman obediently lowered
herself to the ground. As her hands steadied her body, she was surprised that
the patch of concrete was slightly warm.
Yes,
you have returned to the place where you were lying earlier. Now, are you ready
to leave this place?
Rather than answer, the woman
sobbed in anguish. The combined prospect of remaining in torment as well as the
anticipation of leaving overwhelmed her, leaving her speechless.
All
right. Here is what you need to do. Remove the stones beneath you.
The absurdity of the command caused
her to cry harder. Remove stones? There was no way it could be done. She had no
tools. She was not strong enough. Since there was now no light, she would not
be able to even see what she was doing. Was this cruel mockery?
Tools?
Strength? Light? You already have them. Your limited thinking is keeping you
from what you desire. Tools do not just
fit inside a hand. Strength is not limited to the body. Light is not perceived
only by the eyes.
The woman considered what she had
been told. How could she remove the stones? What tools did she possess to aid
her in this task? As she thought, images began to form in the darkness. Like
negatives on film, the woman saw the stones lift and float upward, one by one,
from their resting places on the floor. With the removal of each stone, a dim
shaft of light broke through the darkness to the ceiling, ultimately
illuminating a staircase that led further underground. Gamely, the woman
extended her leg, testing to see if the vision was a mirage. Her foot had,
indeed, landed on a step; it was real.
As she made her way down the staircase, she
laughed at the realization. Of course, she had always possessed the necessary tool,
which was her imagination. If only she had realized it sooner!
The farther down the staircase she
went, the stronger the light became until she emerged and found herself blinded
by the afternoon sun. She was no longer inside the dark, cold cavern; she was
in a lush, green meadow. A soft wind whispered through the trees as songbirds
and butterflies flitted and frolicked in the warm air. She sighed contentedly as she sank into the
grass beside a small pond.
Although she was happy to be
restored to a place of loveliness and beauty, she couldn’t help but think that
something was missing. The voice – where had it gone? While it had been loud
and strong in the darkness, she had not heard it since she had started down the
staircase. In the quiet solitude of her peaceful surroundings, she had strained
to hear the voice but heard not even a whisper. How had it known the way out? How
had it known that she possessed the tools? How had it known the source of
strength and light? How had it known her so well?
Lazily, she picked strands from the
grassy knoll as she considered all this. The songs of the birds, the rustle of
the wind through the tall grass, and the gentle lapping of the pond lulled her
into drowsiness. Soon, she was fast sleep, which, as we have learned, dear reader,
can lead to a variety of consequences. . .or adventures, depending on one’s
viewpoint.
Undoubtedly, our heroine lived happily
ever after, and yet, not in the way fairy tales have traditionally taught one
to expect. In order to live happily ever after, our heroine has learned (even
though she might not realize it yet) that the darkness (and subsequent sadness
and/or tragedy) is necessary and even coveted because it means a reunion with
the voice. Without the voice, she can never truly be happy, she can never rise
to her true, intended potential, and she can never find the direction she must
go. By focusing on and obeying the voice, she will, indeed, live happily ever
after.
“And this is the message we have
heard from Him and announce to you, that God is light, and in Him, there is no
darkness at all.” I John 1: 5
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