Jar full of Stars

The air was so still that I was not sure I was even breathing. I was not sure if I needed to. Surrounded by darkness, I did not know if I wanted to curl into a ball or explore the unknown. My curiosity ultimately won out and I took one awkward step forward.

I could feel myself progressing, but without any light I could not tell where I was headed. Rather than lament, I decided to enjoy my journey in the dark. I watched as my feet made ripples in the space below me. The surface was cold and liquid but refused to stick to my feet. It was as if a dark, metal fluid stretched out towards an indefinite horizon. I tried to kick some up from the surface and was rewarded with a satisfying shower of metal droplets. Each creating small showers of sparks as they rejoined the abyss, sending ripples through the alien surface.

I considered reaching out to try and catch a droplet when I realized how silly I had been for not trying to reach down and touch the dark pool directly. Why had I not considered this sooner? I kneeled down and prodded the surface with a long, pale finger. I felt the flawless surface push back against my prodding but it only made me more curious. There was hardly any volume to the substance but I could tell that there was something beyond it. As I stared into the abyss, I became aware of how warm the air was. Not uncomfortably so; more akin to a blanket of warmth one might feel if they stood in that perfect spot in front of a campfire.

Enthralled with the new sensation, I stretched my arms up towards the endless void. The air roll over my shoulders and down my back, sending little shocks down my spine.

I exhaled.

As my arms came back down I felt the flow of the air pull me along with gentle hands. At first I thought it was leading me somewhere but then I was led backwards. Then to the right. Then back again. Looking for patterns was disrupting the flow in the space as my legs began to tangle themselves. As though thinking of anything but the movement would tear the fabric of the world around me.

Rather than see this world shatter, I let go and allowed the flow to carry me where it willed. I closed my eyes and followed the rhythm set by the charge in the air. Slow at first, moving my arms and legs with a soft grace; in grand gestures that ebbed and flowed with an invisible tide. I continued until the storm came. Tempo increasing, I added twists and twirls as I tested the sparks dancing around my fingertips. Now I was the storm. Despite my eyes being closed, I could clearly see the flashes of light ricocheting around the walls of this foreign realm. With every bounce came the imitation of sound. Vibrations adding to the flow that demanded attention.

I inhaled.

I felt the new rhythm...and then continued building the storm, faster and stronger. Tides raged as I spun, and ripples fled from my unrelenting steps and stomps.

Amidst the void, I was a hurricane of light and strings. I continued to twist, bend and move, as the flow plucked the threads that held me. A puppet given grace by its master. But that was not the image that came to my mind. It felt different. As the rhythm of my feet against the abyss continued I felt something more akin to partnership with the formless entity guiding me. No judgement, no overthinking. Just the movement in the moment. Two forms bringing life to an empty void. The storm of ripples subsided and the flow returned to my side, wrapping me in a warm embrace.

I exhaled.

Opening my eyes I witnessed the marvel that we created. Far away, no more than the size of a dime to my eyes, was a brilliant amber orb, pulsing with an ethereal glow. Billions of stars filled the space around it and I could feel countless more beyond my sight. All proclaiming to be the most worthy of exploration. All new opportunities. If only time were kind enough to allow me to indulge such selfishness. Roots of emerald and gold dust emanated from the orb, scattering its glow further into the darkness.

I inhaled.

Leaning into the flow, I hummed a wordless 'thank you.' I knew it was time to go. I could feel the entity cradle my head as I fell backwards with my arms stretched out at my sides. The light within the orb fluttered as though it acknowledged the trade that was being made. As I was embraced by the cold metal of the world below, I could not help but wonder what would become of those stars that I was leaving behind.

Head sunk into my worn pillow, I took in the monotony of my bedroom. Lazy rays of sunlight poked through the blinds to illuminate four beige walls, a plain softwood desk and a blue folding chair. Outside, a family of woodpeckers decided to remind me of their namesake. The world of stars and infinite possibilities seemed so far away now. Almost impossibly so. I sighed. Getting out of bed, I was reminded of the heavy responsibilities that were expected of me. I looked at the empty notebook on the desk. Its black and white cover stained with the stray pen marks made in angst. The title block scarred from the burns made by erasers long since worn away. The thought of another attempt made me scoff.

I stepped into my immaculate living room. The single blemish, an obnoxious fuchsia beanbag occupying so much space that I could not fathom getting any other furnishings. I crossed the border where worn brown carpet met uneven, gray linoleum and placed two slices of white bread into the metal jaws of their fiery tormentor. I mulled over the notebook, bereft of any motivation. Had I the skill to articulate what my mind's eye could see so vividly, I would not need to worry about the notebook. Then I could distract myself with a proper task. Like watching television. A gentle ping notified me that my prisoners were primed for their execution. I pulled my overdone toast from the toaster and sat on my beanbag chair, content to spread my small packet of diamond-cutting butter onto their sides.

But I paused. I looked back at the cabinet and remembered the small jar of strawberry jelly that I gifted myself at my family's reunion a week ago. It was not like my family would have noticed one of three half eaten jars was missing. I shot up and rushed back into the kitchen. After whipping up the most excitement my small sanctuary had seen since I first moved in, I sat with my prize of charcoal smothered with smooshed strawberry. Perfection.

For the first time in a self imposed life sentence of mediocrity, I had done something remarkable. I changed my fate. Walked a different path. Whatever folks call it. And the buds on my tongue were the first to congratulate me. The tart jelly coupled with the chunks of strawberry that deposited their seeds between my teeth sent my mind racing with new ideas. What else could I mix up? What else could I change?

I was so engrossed in thought that I did not realize I was bombing the carpet with the charred remains of my toast. A faint trail of black dust followed me from my pink throne to my surprised desk. I am sure it had no idea that I would actually eat over it. The nerve of me. But I did not care. I pulled out a pencil from my dusty pencil cup and began writing. What I wrote I do not remember but I do remember filling one page after another. Every page I turned sounded like a tome being dropped on my desk; heavy with the weight of my stream of consciousness.

I still have that notebook. Somewhere tucked away with a dozen of its kin, it rests with ideas that never really took off. So why keep them? Because of the reminder they give whenever I look at them. A hundred failed starts that all led to my one success. And that is all it took. I will pull one out of their tomb of watermarked cardboard every now and then just to inspire myself whenever I feel like going back to butter and toast.

I am reminded of the moment I created a galaxy of stars and dust. Of how I brought light to the dark. And I think about the spark that filled that amber globe. That life. That sense of awe. And it works. I turn a page and fill new lines with new essence. I smile to myself every day knowing that this all started with a dream and a jar of opportunities.