When a life is not defined by some convenient grid of duty and schedule …
Most days I push open the enormous doors into the dark space and stumble in. The doors are the temple doors, so large and heavy that I, the human, feel as if I am in the house of giants, a trespasser. There is no end to the interior space in height and depth and I could not see it if there was. Once in this darkness the door instantly disappears. Directionless I blunder about, bumping into columns in the hypostyle, stubbing my toes, skinning my hands, shouting and muttering to myself, looking for any trace of a way.
I can hear myself breathing but I never hear anyone else in that echoing silence. If I get time to think, I am devastatingly lonely; the more so because I know that there are many other humans in their own parallel darknesses, blundering and groping their way towards truths they believe to be there: parallel rats. But I never hear them.
Some days if I am lucky I see a small spark of light. This may grow into a vision but may just as soon disappear. That is why we come here, chasing some light or other, addicted chancers.
But sometimes I panic, terrified, I lose the will to try, emerging through the surface envelope of the darkness gasping for daylight as if I have been deep down in some solid liquid which will, if I stay a second longer, stop me existing. I have failed.
Some days the blackness leaks through into my day to day though I try to turn my back on the temple. Useless I am doubly guilty.
When my friends write to say they are on the edge; I don’t know what to say except have courage and keep pushing on those doors into darkness, you can never exist any other way. What else can we do? We know nothing else now.
- Dates coming up:
- Nothing much right now…working on the al