A gentle breeze rustled through the leaves of tranquility as the last dying rays of sunlight disappeared over the horizon. Songs of the nightingales drifted softly through the darkening air, piercing holes in the fabric of silence as the stars overhead did for blindness. They danced freely among the qualities of life, weightlessly roaming in their own element of contentment. And I lay there, mesmerized by the beauty of assurance that was being manifested through these inanimate objects; there existed so much irony in the observation that these non- living entities contained more life than any living thing that I had ever seen. As the moon peeked shyly over the mountaintops, making absolutely certain that its polar opposite, the sun, had disappeared for the night, a leaf broke free from the tree overhead and floated down to greet me. The sound of the flowing river formed a smile in the dimly- lit air, and the wind caressed my body like the embrace of an old friend, the ones who had disappeared as time ran its course. And what was it about this setting that was so beautiful? What was it that elicited such a herculean level of inexplicitness? Amidst my contemplation, I found that I had absentmindedly made my way to the river’s edge where my reflection appeared, cast by the light of the brilliant moon.
I searched my face, wondering what was lacking, wondering what it was that enabled nature so. My nose divulged nothing, and the same went for my ears, my neck, my hair… all of them, nothing. Then my eyes rested upon their own reflection. Light traipsed endlessly through the connection of outward introspection, evoking brilliant epiphanies of the mind. But such feeble connections of the dimming moonlight are exactly what can be expected of them: ephemeral, short- lived, bestowing upon us the beauty of a sweet sojourn, though promising more; ‘twas the excerpt to the ultimately infrangible book of life. But at what cost would I be able to view the whole copy? Frustrated, I picked up one of the few loitering rocks at the river’s edge, noticing the same stony look that had appeared in my eyes as the connection between me and infinity had broke. Disgusted, I hurled the rock in the direction of the river’s flow, but as soon as the stone left my hand, my vision spiraled into a multitude of colors, finally morphing into a large, electric- blue passenger train with the words Fürchte dich nicht, was innerhalb, aber was ist an der oberfläche inscribed in scrawling gold letters on the side.
The setting that had previously surrounded me had faded with the appearance of the train into a bright, phosphorescent white which radiated coercion, impelling me to climb on. As I took my first cautious step aboard, whilst realizing that I must be the train’s only passenger, the locomotive burst forth from its standstill, hurling me to the caboose in one, easy motion. I stood, nursing my sore neck from the impact, and took my first look out of the window of certainty. However, what I saw made absolutely no sense: despite the fact that we were moving at what appeared to be hundreds of miles an hour, the scenery on the other side was immobile, something like a movie screen. I saw myself peering into the depths of the river, staring intently at what I remembered to be my own reflection. Or was it still my reflection? My body emanated a silver aura, exhaling the quality of life which I had observed in the beauty of the nature that had surrounded me. I observed these surroundings, watched as the tendril of a connection between me and eternity had drawn the interest of all that surrounded me. They, too, gave forth this silver aura, leaning in to guide and support the creation of perpetual beauty. Then, for no apparent reason, my gaze snapped up, breaking the connection. The tendril of eternity sank back into the river’s depths, and my inanimate friends returned to their original positions with disappointment.
More frustrated with myself now than ever, I made my way up the train to the next window and watched as I picked up one of the few rocks lying by the river’s edge and hurled it into the rapidly flowing water. As the stone made its first skip across the top, memories splashed up into the surrounding air, once again morphing the setting. Through this window, I watched as the picture of my life unfolded before me, enabling an objective view. I watched as I gently embraced the woman who had grown to be my best friend, watched as her mouth curved perfectly over the words, “I do” on our wedding day, watched as sparks flew on the night when we first made love. I watched as we grew old together, as our children and their children passed through our lives in what seemed to be a microsecond, as our love cemented an eternal bond between two ephemeral beings. And then I watched as I took her into my arms amidst her final breath, as my head tilted up to the cloud- covered sky with tears pouring down my face. I watched as God took her into his arms and carried her through the clouds, as her body was slowly lowered into the ground, as the tears of sorrow and joy continued to stream down my face. I spoke along with myself as I then repeated her final words to me: “Through all of these years, you’ve been my everything. You’ve been my best friend. I love you beyond anything in and out of this world. Be strong. We’ll meet again, my love. Forever I’ll be waiting.” Blinking back the tears that now swelled in my eyes, I followed the path of my skipping stone by moving to the train’s next window.
This one revealed my childhood. I watched as I took my first steps, as I learned to ride my very first bike, as I breezed through my various levels of schooling. I watched it all fly by in an expanse of hollowness. I sensed that familiar lacking, that oh- so bitter taste of emptiness. But what could I do about that now? As the stone made its final skip across the top of the river, I made my way to the train’s last window and watched the scene of a hospital delivery room unfold before me. I watched as a small child burst forth into a new world, into a room that lacked everything but the purest form of love that a human could experience, watched as the mother, which I recognized then to be my mother, held me close and softly whispered into my ear the exact words that had danced through my dreams as a child: “You are my most precious gift, little one. I love you with all of my heart and the world is delighted to be grooved with your mark of magnificent beauty. Happy Birthday, my love.” I couldn’t stop the incessant flow of tears that now swam across my face. These memories reawakened the tendrils of eternity in an explosion of shining beauty. The train and phosphorescence then disappeared, re- awakening the picture of the present. I then watched as the stone which had elicited so much in only a few moments settled to its place at the bottom of the river and realized just how unique it was, just how unique I was: no other stone would ever land in quite the same position, just as no other human would lead quite the same life that I had led. I had loved and been loved as deeply as anyone could ever hope for, and for that I am eternally grateful. I then realized what it was that had broken my connection with eternity: a wall of uncertainty. You see, too often, we mitigate the originality of our own lives by means of unnecessary comparison; we lose sight of ourselves and the uniqueness that we bring into this world. In being the same, we are all equally different, we are all beautiful constituents that meld together to make a picture of unfathomable beauty: ourselves. Words could never convey the level of pride that was evoked at the landing place of that stone. Words could never describe how proud I was to simply be me. At this grand epiphany, the final wall of restraint broke loose and the tendrils of eternity carried me away: off through the clouds, off through my memories, off into the embrace of my own acceptance, for that is where eternity lies.
