What happens after we tumble down?
The fast falls are easy fixes.
We remember clearly where we were at the start,
we can just climb back on the other side of the crevasse.
But when the decline is gradual,
we have no clue we’ve finished falling until we look around,
confused at the immense walls towering up,
penning us in and obscuring the stars.
We don’t remember what it’s like above,
where we started.
We don’t remember starting
nor how we got down here,
into this dry valley,
so dark and disorienting.
We only know,
with sudden urgency,
that this is not where we want or ought to be.
Panicked, we scramble to find a way out immediately,
needing only the rescue of now.
With each passing minute,
each now becoming then,
the panic intensifies.
If we let it consume us,
we get lost more deeply and wholly;
we struggle more and more to find the right way,
we ignore options in search of the one path we think is
right.
But there is never just one path.
Even after finding a way out,
the challenge has just begun.
We must realize when we are back up to where we started.
But we don’t remember where that is,
we don’t recall the feeling of that height or the look of the stars.
Stop too early and the world will never be as
bright and airy
as it was before.
Push to far,
and the path never ends.
That final point,
that place that’s just right
just where we started,
That is what we call home.