Approaching Halcyon

There must be something here.

Here, within my hollowed out chest, there should be something tangible.

There has to be, if I am to keep going.

I kneel down to the forest floor, the sharp twigs between the soft blades of grass digging into my knees. My hands throb, my vision blurs, and my spine revolts.

I inhale sharply, and my hand goes to the right side of my abdomen, just below my ribs. The ancient Greeks said that the liver is the seat of all emotions. I never drink, but I wonder how disfigured and inflamed my own has become over these long years of pretending. Of bottling up. Of ignoring.

Still holding my side, I lie down, curled up on the cold ground. The waves of my hair collect pine needles and bits of dirt. The breeze picks up and uncovers the bright moon from behind a veil of clouds. With my free hand, I brush aside debris and vegetation, and dig my fingers into the earth. The chill of it climbs up my arm and down into my chest. I press my ear closer to the grass, and I can hear it; the beating of the land's heart. Her breath is within the trees, stirring them.

"What do I do?" I whisper to Her. "What can I do?"

The breeze chills me, and I curl up further, closing my eyes.

I think of all that I cannot see below me, that which exists so everything above can continue to thrive.

Tree roots reach deep into the earth in search of water and nutrients. They find the streams that we are never supposed to touch, and their tendrils wrap around the smooth skeletons of all that took their final breaths within this clearing. Their flesh may have been for the scavengers and the insects, but the nitrogen of their bones are for the giants that rule this forest. These giants which exhale life and shelter the small things.

No matter what, that will continue on. If I lie here long enough, I can be part of that cycle as well.

The grass shifts, and for a moment I sink, as though my thought has already manifested.

But it's warm now, the cold of the ground becoming a memory. More than just hearing a heartbeat, I feel it now, pulsing beneath me.

I open my eyes, and am met with a mass of grey fur. It is a wolf, larger than any that roam the forests today. There is a glow about it, and each time it breathes, it moves me. I am not afraid of it. For now, I believe this is the safest I have been in a while.

"You can do what you have always done; survive."

Her voice fills my ears, and it something akin to the wind and the low thunder which rumbles miles and miles away. It commands my attention at once, and my heartbeat quickens, but I do not know what to say.

She must feel my apprehension, as she inhales again to speak.

"Or," she takes on a softer tone, "You can live."

"Live?" My voice is muffled by her fur.

"You are capable of great things. You possess strength, the kind you will need to change your course."

"I'm terrified."

"I know. You are terrified because you wish to control every aspect of the future. When you let go of this, you will see what you can accomplish in the present."

Tears flow down the curvature of my cheekbones onto the wolf, and the ache begins to subside. Her fur is thick, and seems to go on endlessly.

"Will you show me how?" I ask.

"You were doing it before I arrived. When you laid down and listened, you thought of the forest and all that we do. Nothing more. Continue this practice in everything that you do, and it will become part of your nature."

I sigh, and bury my fingers further into her coat, still not grazing any skin. "Can you stay with me?"

"I am always here. I have always been here."

I open my mouth, but she must already know what I plan to say.

"I am tangible now because you are ready. You can return to me at any point on this journey. It will not be easy, but you will fly."

Already, her warmth is beginning to disappear. My heart hammers.

"Wait!"

"You are strong. You will be well."

With one last exhale, she vanishes, and I am slowly brought back to the grass beneath me.

The breeze pushes the boughs of the pines, and I roll onto my back.

Tears continue to come, and though my heart aches now, the pain in my abdomen is gone.

I sniff, and bring my hands up to my chest, and fold them over my heart. It's warm there, and my eyes widen. It aches; I feel inside my own heart. It aches with want, something which has not happened for some time. My heart is not broken, it is beating, and I can feel her there, stirring in my ribs.

I stand up and brush the needles from my hair and the tears from my cheeks, and watch as the moon is again uncovered.

My chest is full.