A young individual stood atop a mediocre mountain. She stood in a clearing of trees and soft flat earth. Beneath her and across a small distance the mountain tapered off into a valley. Varieties of leafy towers bloomed spontaneously at the change of seasons. Fresh greens, dark, light and in between colors decorated the slopes. Shadows dabbed green grays mixing strokes of buds with fresh flowers. The individual looked across the vast stretch of land and took in a great deep breath. She filled her lungs to their limit and let go in a slow and sudden single motion. Her mind had reached a point of clarity and she pursued progress. Thoughts and memories floated in and out. Old fears teased and tickled the backs of her ears. She smiled and settled to sit cross legged on a nicely suitable sitting rock. She closed her eyes. She made no effort to consciously seek information, she allowed herself to float in and out of visuals and meditations.
The environment welcomed the individual. The sky looked down at the top of her and felt her like a small gust of wind that only hints at attention. The surrounding woods breathed her in and felt her as a part of their own. The ground shifted in the breeze and pulled at her soft energy.
The girl could completely feel her Self. She could taste her blood as the flavor of the wind and the pines and the moisture in the air. She called to the mountain without using her voice. She found a response in a whisper.
“I’ve clouded your senses, but now I’m back”
This was fear and truth.
“I’ve tested you and tried you”
This was superior and just.
The girl recalled a confrontation by a maple tree on a road some time ago. Remembering the past was dangerous. Her perspective was jaded and full of worldly disease. She dismissed it but hesitantly. She was eager to hold on to her ideas, but understood that such a memory could not be trusted. She had been hurt, she had been afraid; she had been heartbroken by betrayal. She fought the memory and continued to allow her mind to free itself.
An image of a character flowed through her closed eyes. She caressed his hair. She watched him vulnerably curl in a circle at her knees. She felt forward and knew a memory that had never occurred. She dreamed.
The dream spoke,
“I’ve humbled my strings, I’ve not been decided on. I’ve rearranged the furniture in this room and the walls are now gray instead of black. We can sit at this table if you’d like and I could look into your eyes and you mine. You could keep your pet at your feet. You could keep this trial. You could dine with the both of us.”
The young individual could not forget this feeling. She sat on this rock, in this chair, she stood at work, sat on her couch, and she remembered this new sense of safety that was beginning to surface within a dream, within a meditation. And she loved him again, she allowed herself to love him despite his standing with the universe. He had not yet played out his consequences. She loved him, she forgave him, and she waited for him.