Sometimes the old voice comes through, loud and clear, and all the supposed distance of time is revealed as nothing more than a thin veil draped over wind.
It happened this morning as I was running by the Puget Sound at sunrise. The sun was brilliant coming up over the water to my right. It stirred thoughts of Paul’s walk on the road to Damascus.
A strange web of encounters has resurrected young ghosts in my brain…the Lizard King, the Hermit, Atwater, a Medium woman writing about drowning in the same waters that drowned me as a kid…
Maybe that’s why the old voice stirred and spoke through the veil from that wild country of windy barrens and crazed horses that’s always filled my bones.
Maybe there’s something else. I don’t know.
Anyway, there on the shore of the Sound, as I ran with the sun coming up beside me, the voice said, There’s so much more. You were supposed to find it.
It’s the sort of thing that would go ignored during nearly any hour of my workday, but in that early morning world with the Damascus sun carving a world out of fog around me, with seals slithering through the water and birds scattering and crying, with ruins of old docks and warehouses, with graffiti-creatures encased in concrete, with all these things dreaming themselves into life around me, the voice resounded.
A man resigns himself to the regular things and strives to be a good and responsible man doing good and responsible things, but still that voice whispers through the veil, it whispers, But what IF?
What IF the something more is real?
And what IF you do indeed have a destiny? What if you’re blowing your chance to live it? What’s the greater injustice then? What’s the less responsible thing?
Yea, on a morning running alone beside the Sound, the voice and its questions shivered with the ragged jangling electricity of mystery.
And what now? It asks me as I write this.