On a beautiful, seemingly normal day, I came across a beautiful bird singing its song. It began to fly, and I followed it and its song to a beautiful forest. While walking through the lush, green forest filled with the new promises of spring; I stopped to smell the flower buds on the tress. The air was thick with the sweet aroma of the colorful blossoms. Bees were busy and buzzing from one purple bud to the next. Birds were singing their happy tunes and celebrating the new season while they prepared their nests that would protect their eggs and a promise for a new generation. Squirrels were playing and chasing each other up one tree and jumping from one to the other and back down again. Even the water in the near by creek was bubbling with the fullness of winter's melt and gave way for new life.
All around me there were signs of joy, peace, love, beauty, and new beginnings. Days like this are what dreams and folktales are made of. My heart felt happy as I walked along the path letting my hands trail beside me brushing the tall, soft grass. But something was tugging at me. A sense of something foreboding was picking at my joy. I looked around and only saw the beauty around me, but with every step I took further into the forest, this dark feeling got stronger. Chills ran up and down my spine. Goosebumps rose from my skin and the hair on my arms stood on end. My chest tightened as my feet trudged further into the forest.
I looked around and it had gotten darker. How did I not notice that the birds had stopped singing. The path beneath my feet had gone from soft, green grass and easy walking to a path overgrown with prickly weeds. The rocks beneath my feet were jagged and hard to keep balance on. Even the babbling creek had turned wide and angry roaring over rapids as if to warn me to just turn around. I couldn't though.
My heart was pounding now. Each beat warned of something dark and scary up ahead. It was still spring, but it had gotten colder. I looked up and dark gray storm clouds had rolled in. The wind had kicked up and I felt the cold wind blow right to my bones. I have been on many hikes in my life time. I have lived through 49 spring times. I knew that what I was experiencing was likely only temporary. I could turn around, back to the safety of a beautiful path, and hope I out run the rain back to my home; or I could keep going through this fear in my soul and dark, rocky, cold path that lay before me. Surely, the sun, beauty and joy would return again... if I just kept walking.
I turned a corner, and there before me was a giant cave looking thing. Was it a cave or was it a tunnel system that would get me to the other side of this forest? I was unsure. All of my friends had told me about this hike, but none of them told me or warned me about a cave or tunnel. None of them warned me that the path would become dangerous and dark. Had I taken a wrong turn somewhere? Had I gotten so wrapped up in the beauty and promises of new beginnings and the end of winter's slumber that I had missed a trail sign to go a different direction? I had no idea. I wished I had brought a trail map with me.
What lie ahead of me was not just a dark hole in a mountain, but a huge orange warning sign nailed to an old wooden fence. The white paint was chipping away. It had been out in the weather for several years. There was yellow "caution" tape strung all across it. Even it was torn and hanging loose in places. This place looked dark, unloved and rarely visited. I mean, why would you? It was obvious no one was supposed to go any further. The orange warning sign said, "Warning: Grief! Do not go beyond this point!"
As soon as I read this sign, I felt my chest tighten. The ringing in my ears grew louder. Thunder crashed overhead as lightning flashed. The wind was really whipping. The torn yellow caution tape was clinging to the wooden fence as if it's life depended on it. I could hear the plastic flapping. The situation was looking and feeling pretty dire. I no longer had time to turn back around to the safe, easy path of spring and new beginnings. I couldn't stay where I was standing. Hail as big as golf balls had started to pelt my goose-bumped skin. Standing there in the dark, cold forest was too dangerous. But what would happen if I ignored the whipping caution tape, the bright orange warning sign and climbed over the old, weathered, splintered, wood fence? What danger was ahead of me?
I stood there in my fear, welts forming on my cold, red skin. I looked around longing for another option, but there was none. Then as if something was haunting me, I heard the slightest sound of what seemed like a young child whimpering. I stopped everything. I didn't dare move a muscle. I willed my heart to stop pounding and my ears to stop ringing. What was that sound? I stood very still, holding my breath and I heard it again. It was the sound of a young child crying and it was getting louder. It was coming from the inside of the dark hole in the mountain. The poor thing had some how found its way behind the warning sign and must be scared in the darkness. That was it! I had to get in there.
Carefully, I put my hands on the top board and stepped up on the rickety fence. Slowly, one foot at a time, I ignored the warning signs and climbed the fence. The crying was getting louder and I heard a quiet voice plead, "Please help me. I'm scared."
Tears welled up in my eyes as I started moving at a quick pace, carefully throwing my legs one at a time over the top of the fence. Once my entire body was over the fence, I looked over my shoulder to check out the ground beneath me. More sharp rocks; I couldn't just jump off of this fence. I climbed down as quickly as possible and felt the piercing of a sliver of wood sink into my right hand. My feet wobbled; I lost my balance and fell backwards off the fence.
It took a few minutes for me to come back to awareness. My head had hit one of the sharp rocks. My hand reached for the back of my head and felt warm liquid as blood dripped through my fingers. My body hurt all over. My ears were ringing louder and my head was aching. Gently, I lifted myself to my feet and brushed off the dirt. My clothes were ripped from the rocks beneath me. Slowly I placed my feet carefully on the rocks as I started entering the darkness.
My eyes adjusted to the dark as I strained to see beyond my out reached arms. I fumbled as I moved forward and further toward the sound of the crying child. I tripped in a hole and rolled my ankle. the pain shot through and up my leg. I reached my left hand out to catch myself and felt the cool moist rock slice open my hand.
I kept walking towards the crying and whimpering child. What are they doing here? How did they get here? Who would leave a child behind in this scary, cold, desolate place?
As I slipped on the moist rocks and felt water dripping on my head, I kept walking and crying. My hands, ankle, head all hurting and now a heaviness has begun to find its way into my heart. My whole being was feeling tortured by the darkness, isolation, cold and the crying child that seems to be getting closer. The sorrow I was beginning to feel started to feel so personal. The crying seemed to be coming from me rather than from outside of me. Tears started pouring from my eyes. Memories that seemed foreign to me began playing in my head. What was going on? Why was this happening to me?
I kept walking toward the crying child, but it was hard to differentiate between their crying and my crying. My heart and chest felt like they were going to explode. I wasn't sure how I was going to survive this pain I was feeling.
I heard a sound coming from somewhere in this dark place. I jumped and screamed. What kind of monsters live in this dark place? Would they hurt me? Would they kill me? They couldn't because they haven't killed the child in here, but maybe that is why the child is crying. Maybe the unseen monsters have hurt this young child who is crying. I need to get to them to save and protect them.
Walking through this darkness, I heard voices telling me stories about intense pain. As they talked, I could feel that same pain in my body, heart and soul. I was being haunted by what felt like someone else's memories. I could smell the stench of grief; it was pungent and bitter. If I had not already been crying, my eyes would have started to water. It was so strong, I wanted to plug my nose, but it was also one of those smells that you could taste if you tried to breathe through your mouth. I gasped hoping for fresh air to breathe, but there was none.
I felt my self suffocating while I tried to walk. By now all I could hear was my own crying that had become out right wailing My body was shaking and shuttering. Every inch of my body was in pain. Every step I took over the sharp, slippery rocks sent inconceivable pain straight up my legs. My arms were so heavy, I couldn't even lift them to wipe my eyes or the snot pouring from my nose. My chest was exploding and it felt like I had nothing left to give to myself much less that child.
With my lungs burning and gasping for air, I kept my forward movement going. I had to find that abandoned child. My feet began to feel tangled and I felt myself tripping. In my despair, I had not noticed the sharp rocks had given way to tangled vines. It seemed as though these vines were deliberately trying to trip me and hold me in place. I tripped and stumbled and finally fell to my knees almost falling into a dark mirror-like pond of water.
Confused, I shook my head as if to clear the confusion from my head. I looked in the pond, and I gasped at what I saw. There was a young girl in the water! The crying child was right there in the water. But how had she survived deep in this water? How could she cry or beg for help? Was she really there?
I looked at her again. She was trapped by vines that wrapped around her body and bound her upper arms to her body. The vines wrapped around her so tightly she could barely breathe. I could barely breathe. My own chest felt tight and constricted.
I needed to save this little girl; somehow I needed to pull her out of the water and help her escape this pond, this cave, this grief. I reached my hand towards the water and I saw her struggle to reach out towards me. My hand dipped into the water and her hand had reached out to me but where I should have felt her hand, I only felt water. I looked again at this bound up, crying little girl and realized that she looked just like me.
Gasping from the shock of seeing this little, tortured version of me, I began to wail. I just wanted to pick her up out of the water and hold her, comfort her, and tell her it would be okay. But is it? Can I really tell her that? Was that true? Would she, I, we be okay? Right now we were both feeling bound up and trapped by this horrible experience and feeling. I sat there and cried with her. I talked to her. When I talked, she talked too. We we were one.
"Hi, Little One. How can I help you? What do you need?"
She replied, and I felt my own lips move with her words, "I need you to love and protect me. I want to feel supported by you. I need to get untied and be free to play. I want to laugh. I've been here too long. I am stuck and am slowly dieing. I am ready to return to the light; please take me."
My heart ached for her, for me, for us. "I'm sorry. I love you. Please forgive me. Than you. I promise to love you and take care of you. I will untangle both of us, set us free and walk us out of this dark, dark place."
Her face softened and I continued, "I understand we have been hurting and I have not been caring for you, me, us. And know that I love you and am doing my level best to make me stronger to protect us and love us. I will shine a light on us and the way at of this darkness. I have seen the light before, and maybe, together, we can get back there. Not only can we see it again, maybe we can shine it for others too. Would you like to do that?"
Immediately I feel the vines fall away and I see her reach her arms high to the sky. She looked, and I felt, freer than I have felt in a long time. I reached into the water to pick her up and filled my hands with water and raised my water filled hands to my head and face. The cool water washed over me and the young girl and myself were brought together. My heart felt a little lighter.
I pushed myself up from the damp ground; a bit unsteady, I wobbled. I took a deep breath, and for the first time since the clouds rolled in, my chest felt loser and breathing was easier.
Not feeling 100% myself yet, still feeling lighter than before, I contemplated how to leave the darkness. I considered where I came from. I remembered the treacherous, sharp rocks. My body still held the pain and the cuts from my journey into the darkness. I remembered how shaky and splintered that fence was. The idea of going backward sent a shiver up my spine. And the little girl voice said, "No. Do not look back. Going forward is the only way out."
My whole body hurt from the journey into this cave. My feet ached. My hands were cut. My knees were bruised. Even my own heart was still feeling a bit heavy. This journey into this grief space, into this darkness, was painful, and now I had to find the strength to get out. To move backwards was scary, but at least I knew the perils. Moving forward into the unknown was even scarier, but at least there was hope it may be easier. I would never know if I stayed here in this soft grassy place that had once held me captive with scratchy vines. It was tempting to just give in and stay here in this place. I could just stay here and sleep. There is no light to keep me awake. There are no people to distract me. I could sit here in the complete darkness and accept this place as my own. I was so tired from the journey here. What if I just slept for a little while?
I heard the voice deep inside of me. "No. To sleep for a little bit, would mean to stay in the darkness forever. Grief is meant to go through, not avoid or stay in. You must keep walking forward. Move towards the light."
As if my feet knew the way, they began to move one foot in front of the other. I held my hands out to feel my way around. It seemed as though my eyes had adjusted to the darkness because I was beginning to see better and more clearly.
The further I walked away from the mossy area around the dark pond, the harder the ground became. But there was a big difference. There were no more painfully, sharp rocks. My feet only found hard, smooth surfaces to walk on. The path leading out was wider than the path that had lead into the entrance.
As I moved forward, I felt the air get thinner and less heavy. The suffocating humidity had disappeared. I could breath easier. My skin was feeling a welcome warmth caress its surface. My heart was beginning to sing. I heard the music in my head. I could feel the vibrations of joy return to my whole body. I was lighter and was gracefully moving through to what looked like light ahead.
I thought back to the start of my day and the start of this journey. A little singing bird had brought me here into the forest. I remembered the beauty of life. I remembered the color of happiness. I remembered the vibrancy of love. I felt stronger with every step. I kept moving. There was a large opening up ahead and beautiful sunlight was passing through the rocky opening. The light danced off of the crystals that lined the walls of the cave. Happy rays of color danced and sparkled. A smile grew on my face. I was giddy with happiness and hope.
Finally, I reached the other side of grief and darkness and stepped out of the cave into love and light. I had saved the little girl that was me. Together we supported each other and loved each other enough; we trusted each other enough to guide each other out of the pit of despair that was grief and into the beautiful spring sunlight with the cool gentle breeze. I looked upon the new flowers and leaves on the trees. I smelled the sweetness of renewed life and for the first time in a long time, I laughed and played as I chased after a butterfly that escorted me through the beautiful new adventure that had become my new life.
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