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Hemispheric Journey
To think the last words uttered were: "Anyone who has delved within the microcosm of his/her internal self will vouch for my observation when I say that the more we delve within, the bigger the expanse of the universe becomes....
Ingenious, wouldn't you agree?"
Cathy... You Oscillate Rainbows!
My first reaction was firing on all spirals to channel my emotive response into 'psychologically deconstructing' such a poignant journey...
My second was to know to let it go... just for once... let it go!
It's beautiful.
OK here we go...
Hemispheric Journey
I go inside my head. I am standing at the bottom, and can see on either side of me the two giant hemispheres, one to the left and one to the right. They are vast and grey, both, as always, identically sized, I am relieved to see. I fly up to the bridge at the top that links the two. Again, I am relieved that it is strong, a rope bridge. I decide to look in the left hemisphere first; I climb on the bridge and open the tiny door to my left brain. I go in and see what I always see, the attic room, dimly lit, light coming in through one small window, dust motes dancing in its beams that fall on the dusty furniture that clutters the room. I go first to my desk, as always, papers sticking out of the drawers...I open the top left drawer and yes it is my manuscript 'The New Barns Story'(rather dog-eared by now). I have never opened any other drawers, but I pull open the one beneath. It contains all my notes and study on dyslexia and teaching. I open the drawer below that and it contains my fictional writing. Then I open the top right hand drawer and find in there my correspondance, letters from my friends. Next I notice, for the first time, the computer on the desk. I turn it on. Windows XP. I connect to the net and check my school account. The usual messages are there. Then I click on Imajicka's weblog. At once there is an explosion of light. Everything in the room has vanished and there is only light. I wait in the light. I wait. And wait. I want something to happen. Nothing happens. I try to bring back my room; it appears briefly, but greyed out. I go back to the light and wait some more. I try to accept that nothing will happen, that the light is all there is. And still I wait for something. Nothing.
I decide to visit my right brain. I squeeze out of the door back onto the rope bridge. So strong, that bridge! (It's a single rope) I swarm across it and through the door to my right brain. Immediately I am out on my beloved hillside, with the river and the countryside below spreading as far as the eye can see. I can see the little cottage on the other side of the river, the one I have visited so many times...
Suddenly, from the woods to my left, a deer appears. This is the first time I have met this creature! He is a full antlered stag, very beautiful. For an instant, I see hunters pour from the woods, but they disappear as soon as they arrive...
The deer and I approach each other. I touch and stroke him, he is beautifully warm and so strong. I clasp my hands around his antlers and slide onto his back. His warmth and softness under my belly, his strength and hardness in my hands. He runs with me, he soars into the night sky with me and we have left the world behind. We fly into the stars, and he and I grow, he is stars now, his hooves are stars, the tips of his antlers are stars, I his rider am stars, and we are giants circling and falling in the cosmos...
It's beautiful, but I want to go back to my left brain now, to see if it is still pure light-nothing or if my attic room is back. So, back across my rope bridge and cautiously I open the door. There is strong light now coming from it, but not dazzling. I go in the room now. The room is bathed in the simple light of day. I can see everything clearly. I can see all the books in the room. I want to explore some more of my left brain now. I want to go downstairs. As I descend the stairs (narrow, stone) they go into darkness. The stairs are not taking me outside, but down to a cellar. Darker and darker...I reacher the cellar. Pitch black. I explore the cellar. Stone, cold, water and mud and bits of straw on the floor. Walls rough, damp, moss on the walls. A musty smell. Then - in the corner - I find her. I explore her body. Thin, painfully thin. Clothed in rages. But warm, trembling, a beating heart. Around her left ankle, a steel band, she is chained to the wall. The band has chafed on her skin, I can feel the scabs and rawness. I feel in my jeans pocket and yes I have a key. I unlock the restraint. I begin to carry her up the stairs. Oh, she is like a little baby bird in my arms, she clings to me.
I take her through the attic room, I take her out onto the bridge. She clings to my back like a baby monkey, so light, but it is harder now I have her to cross the bridge. I have to cross it like a monkey, upside down, if she wasn't clinging so tightly (but lightly!) she would fall into the abyss!
We go through the door into the right brain. I am amazed to see it is now dark in the land of my dreams, my glorious playland. Not pitch or angry dark, but soft beautiful moonlit dark. Never have I visited this world at night before! I set her on the grass. In the moonlight I can see how emaciated she is, the huge dark circles under her eyes, the sharp decaying little teeth. She shivers. I consider what I should do for her. Plainly she needs food. Also, she is filthy dirty, she needs to be washed...I should take her to the river...
But first I want to feed her. I look around, where is the food? The deer is standing by the wood, he indicates a hazel tree with some ripe nuts on it. I pick the nuts and crack them, feed her the insides. She eats them, a handful. So inadequate! She needs so much more food than that!
I carry her to the river. I want to bathe her, get all that dirt off her, make her clean and soft. When we reach the river, she cries out with delight. She wants to get into the river and swim away, she can only get strong if she swims away by herself into the river and gets her own life. I cry out 'No!' I can't let her go. I can't bear to lose her. But if I keep her she will always stay stunted, emaciated, underfed...I turn to the deer, he watches with steady, silent eyes. I know, I know I should let her go. I can't do it! I love her too much. I would die without her. My dilemma fixes me. I call out 'Oh Christ'. Christ appears. The child goes towards him. He passes his hands across her ruined body and she collapses into a pile of bones. She is free! She is gone! I rush forward and fling myself over the bones, crying. I have lost her! I look up. Christ is there. The deer is there. Also is the Buddha, fat and many-armed. And Allah, on his steed, his armies at his back. And Lahksmi, adorned with gold, children and homes and happiness around her. All the Gods are watching me. I hate them. They are Gods, they will never know loss. I scream at them 'You understand NOTHING' and I fall again on the bones of my beautiful girl and cry, and I will not be comforted.
And when eventually I lift my head again they are still there. They are not angry with me, far from it, I see in their eyes an infinite pity and an infinite love.
I am comforted.
Cathy