The Essence of Life

“the essence of human experience lay not primarily in the peak experiences, the wedding days and triumphs which stood out in the memory like dates circled in red on old calendars, but, rather, in the unself-conscious flow of little things — the weekend afternoon with each member of the family engaged in his or her own pursuit, their crossings and connections casual, dialogues imminently forgettable, but the sum of such hours creating a synergy which was important and eternal.” — Dan Simmons

My trip passed in a quicker haze than most dreams.

They released me on a whim, thinking that if this dashing young man with the vigorous spirit of nations did not find more to life then none would. The remaining juveniles did not rage, but while I walked off from the gate I looked each in their solemn eyes and whispered goodbye.

I went west to escape the infinite bore of home. Nothing should be so familiar. The mind cannot open in the confines of what is known. Long ago they said, go west young man, to the frontiers of human knowledge. I did not expect anything or hope for much. I chased a feeling, a hope that I would find something finally new, interesting and exciting, a reason, a path.

I wanted to see it all, the golden valleys and infinite heights. Perhaps it would fulfill me, show me something.

I forsook the few who cared. “I’m sick of you all,” I said.

“But you have been away for so long.”

“Then I am tired of more.” One day I would be grateful for them, but not this day. One day I would regret cursing their ordinary lives but now I reveled in casting them down, in walking off and looking back.

I flew to the desert until fake light filled me, stretching for as far as I could see in infinite directions surrounded by countless miles of golden sand. In this land they persist on pure vice, simple delight made dark by insatiable desire taken beyond the realm of reason. In the desolate wastes, desperate men threw away possession and well-being in hopes of winning. What did they seek? When they won they poured the winnings into more games, more harm to themselves for instants of pleasure. Is that all we are? An instant sensation in the mind of the world, here and gone in but a blink? Is there an end? A pleasure that lasts our lives? Or is life repetitive chugging of toxins, and throwing of gold? Is it nothing but an interminable pursuit of instantaneous bliss only to be replaced by more desire the next instant, begging to go home only to exist, remain, and accomplish nothing. We continue, chasing something more than orgastic, a lasting relief, an ultimate fulfillment, ever onward we run, one dopamine hit after another with no end in sight. Perhaps It was an endless cycle spiraling to the mercy of an end. I began to fear that darkness, I could live like this, not if I am impermanent, not if this is my only chance.

I walked that city, its decadent structures on sand made strong by those who dared walk to upon them. We are doomed to walk on and on, forever along the shifting sands until we are reduced to nothing but that, dust itself, sand in the wind, blowing along the path of weary travelers, cursed with no purpose by an absence of nature.

The city stood as a constant reminder, yet I stayed, hoping to forget, to find my instants of ecstasy. I was disappointed by their end and excited in the anticipation of more. The circle tortured the mind that sought to define it, so I gave in, destitute, and fled, cursing myself. I fled to find something more constant, but it would take so many miles.

I went east until I heard the river flow.

Below, the water in its mighty eternal flow laid waste not in a momentous strike, not in one shining day, but in subtle motion, carrying more sediment each day to scar the earth and its immovable stone. How can liquid defeat stone? Just give it swaths of time I cannot begin to comprehend. The chasm spanned the globe, a gash from above, a beauty from the ground. How could the river raise pointed peaks and pits, flowing alone? And why? To continue until time ends? Simply to make a mark? Or shift the world? What does it matter? On and on it will go until the last particle is carried away, the last drop is dried in the current while the earth remains, uttering its last words to the sky and sun and void.

I climbed and sat on a precipice balancing on a rocky ledge overlooking a mile of sheer red stone. I mocked those who feared to sit on the edge beside me, they remained firmly planted on the ground, knowing neither fear nor triumph ever.

The man came from the corners of my sight. His long white locks and beard drifted in the shadow of the setting western sky.

“Bask young man, let the sight fill you.”

“I soon must be going”

“Why? This sight is rare, let its essence hold.”

“I will travel for lasting meaning until I never need to travel further.”

“Why ever stop? Sit son. Where will you go?”

“That is what I seek to know. Yet I wonder why I wish to accomplish anything for such a world.”

“Ah but the world is grand, just look.”

“Then it is those who inhabit it. Perhaps I am one of them.”

“Of course you are, don’t doubt it. Don’t try to make sense of joy, of the longing, suffering, and ecstasy. Think of those whose joy places more happiness in you than in themselves. Think of their lives and struggle, and find love where it would seem devoid of it. Do it for that feeling, to prolong it among men. You would not have come this far without faith.”

“I will find something, a peek to bask on one day. But they are all so pitiful, they bore me, I hate to become one of them. Show me faith then. Where shall I sit? Why would I stop?”

“Why not here? Ah, but you will not be deterred. Go in your youth, it is inspiring. Keep going and I will show you. The gravest error is to stop but to take it in, to bask in the light of life, that is not the same.”

I went west again. I walked until the entirety of my being became as desolate as the sands I walked upon. To wake, live, die, sleep, over and over became meaningless, repetitive to the point I could not handle it, so I did not sleep. I collapsed on desert air, mesmerized by brilliant stars taking me far. We travel on a vessel crossing vast cosmos. The stars became obscene white holes in the atmosphere, their brilliance mocking the skies of my home. The sight fleeted and fled. I went to the one place where they sought to grasp those stars. I crossed deserts and mountains, seeing concrete dams holding back dreadful waves.

I traveled to an oasis on the edge of sand. The beach’s dunes stretched beyond the mirage of any horizon. I thought the ocean would be the same as the one I knew near home, yet there was something distinctly different. I was dwarfed by it, its other side seemed more distant than the faintest stars.

I walked on. A spacecraft stood on a lawn, an impressive ornament behind a wall of glass. It seemed bigger on screens. If only we can show the common people what is above, then they will understand, then we will know, find the truth and survive. But would the spacefarers take me, did I possess the capability, the genius of those who stood beyond the wall before me? I scoffed at how some rose to the top effortlessly, or perhaps they toiled just like me. So one day I could reach their genius, if not here then elsewhere. I thought of the man on the precipice.

I went north until the sea receded to unlikely rainforest atop unsurpassable roads. In one great swath of sight, I beheld an entire bay. Cities sprawled on each coast, an impressive combination of man and nature.

It wasn’t the infinite bay or the vast valleys I had beheld spreading to distant peaks, or even the spirals of the expanse, that made me feel small, that made me wonder what mark a mere man could make on a world so massive. No, it was the ancient grove and its looming spires that struck me.

There, life stood tall, solemn, still noble, humble beyond our own labored heights of unnatural beams and glass. The pure gray trunk held purpose to remain a thousand years ever still, ever silent and after we pass, they will endure, the air they spew purer than any breath I ever inhaled. Before such silent guardians, how could I lay such roots, fly so high, go so far? I reached out at a trunk solid as steel could never be, imposing in its stature, rough in its lasting age. I strained my neck to look up. What wisdom could such a beast hold that us mere humans can fathom? I left the forest reluctantly. I stayed for days, basking among the wise trees, taking in great breaths of air, meditating in silent groves untouched by dreadful men.

I recalled an infinitely bounded valley. It felt like an old memory, a friend to my mind although I had never known it before as if it was implanted in the deepest recesses of my consciousness by a dream.

I looked up at a mountain. I would gaze atop it, a viewing gallery on a forsaken path.

I climbed because the peak was too much to ignore. Because if I ceased I would never forgive what I would become. I could not stand still. And once I was there I would know. Then the answer would be clear, the satisfaction would be near. Then I lay still. Yet will I ever be able to stop? At the moment I hoped for a single summit to sit upon and go no further once conquered. Then perhaps my mind would settle. I looked at the rocky white point above and clung to this ordeal, this would be it, this would be all I ever needed. I hoped, knowing that what I sought was foolish, impossible yet infinitely exciting. I had to climb. There must always be something to move towards in hopes that someday there will be nothing more.

Others would stand in my way with their strange society, standards, and rules yet not as I would stand in my own way. For your own mind can be the greatest barrier and asset all at once. You can always fight yourself, always overcome your own being no matter the circumstances. My doubt slipped beneath ambition and will.

What would this mountain present to me that the rest of the world I had traversed could not? What would this peak give me? I began to age thinking I knew, wasting irretrievable time of immeasurable value. Each second is a present carrying infinite hope, opportunity, and potential, too precious to give away. So I climbed, my feet began to slip and I rolled along the path. I tumbled to my knees, grasping rocks until they slipped. I stacked stones on the precipice until I heard the man’s voice again. He sat on a clear sky, impossibly perfect. He gestured at what lay below, tearing my eyes from the peak, my breathless pursuit.

I fell against the stone and turned. There it was. My mouth agape, I sat and thought for a moment that seemed to exist outside of time. It could have been years. If only I had known before, if only I had not spent so much time focused on my own accomplishment, on some imaginary future that would never come for now is all we will ever know.

All I needed to do was look. Not above me to some distant, impossibly perfect peak, but here right in front of me. Beauty was behind me the whole time. It is not a destination I needed, not even a path, but a constant glow along every single step, unifying every moment, shifting time not to be stacked atop each receding memory, but a single mountain placed at once composed of the light, made one by intent. I saw my entire life in a single feeling and held it, not composed of moments or events, but a flow that has always been tied together in harmony. I thought of faces I loved, familiarity, and faith. I considered the ones who cared, the family and friends I forsook, I remembered each laugh and smile, each moment of pain and pleasure, of vulnerability and emotion. I longed to return to them, to those moments of bliss before realizing that they are still with me, they exist in the past, the present and are unified by the essence of existence. They are never gone for time is one thing, not three.

I sat down and could finally absorb the sight. The bleeding sun sat on the softly shifting sea. The wide world seemed small for I saw so much of it all at once. Years later I held the same synergy. I could feel it now. Now I know.

May we hope that by the end we create not one shining moment, not one triumph but an essence as pure and brilliant as the sun lighting the valley as I rolled by, chasing away anything that is not light, anything that is not life in all its vitality. So we do not need to remember what our minds fail to recall many years from now, but simply wallow, bask in the essence of the unifying force that is life, for it holds every memory within it, in a stream made one thing by our indescribable feelings, burning and filling our lives and the valley.

I sat still looking out at the sun past the sea and the essence held, trailed by faith. To know the rest, I will only need to keep going and hold on.