There once was a haven.
There was a tranquility blanket of finely-ground gemstones. The gemstone sand was so extensive that it spread itself like water of an ocean; so creative that it roared its personality through magnificent dune creations; so fearless that it ventured deep into every empty crevice.
Occasionally, wind would ruffle. A meek breeze would delight the sand-blanket, causing its fibers to fray until only the two bravest gems could be seen, clearly gleaming as they danced above the rest, playfully engaging in the whirls of the wind. More and more frequently the warmly tame air chilled and became unsteady: violence rattling the haven. However, the two gems carried on in a blissful state as around them the tranquility of the haven sucked away. The individual glow of each slivered gemstone dimmed so that the lustre of the sand was mute.
One day, one of the two remaining gems became aware. She noticed she was a simple spec of light, while her mate was much larger and brighter. And so, the spec of a gemstone fell into a trance of admiration, astonished at the sheer magnificence of her only remaining fellow. The spec became aware suddenly of her surroundings, and felt only a minor jolt of panic to see the once fluid and marvelous gemstone blanket was now depleted of its integrity and sat as a dull sheet of stone.
The spec’s companion, the magnificent one, became her idol. The spec looked to the idol silently searching for answers to what strange phenomenon had occurred –but the idol surprisingly remained unchanged; obliviously secure in her jewelled encasement. The spec saw her dazzling oblivion and her own fears tamed. She felt she would forever be safe with the idol. She felt assured that if she followed the idol’s every word and imitated her every move, she herself would be just as magnificent and protected.
Then one day the idol gemstone flickered out. The spec suddenly found herself alone. Confused, she wondered what happened to her terrific companion. The idol’s shell remained, yet with none of the vibrant lustre and animation –simply a darkened, hollow, shell.
The spec felt so weak without the idol’s power. She felt so unknown within her empty self without the idol’s personality. She looked about her and saw how lost she was –she ventured far with the idol, but placed so much trust in the idol’s adventure and in the idol’s abilities and wisdom that she paid no attention to where they had wandered to, or how they had drifted there.
The wistful breezes had now become constant storming gales; disorienting extrinsic forces and tormenting mirages: playful trickery inciting false hopes while dashing imagined perfection.
The spec fought ferociously through the tempest in desperate search of the safety previously known. But it was no more. She had retreated into an elaborate yet fallacious dream world with the idol and yet despite the camaraderie sunk low into isolation.
Brimmed up –simmering over— with severe confusion, shock and grief of loss, massive floundering free-falling fear… the spec delved deeply into whole-broken-hearted depression. She returned defeated –exhausted— to the stone landing. Not alone, just with a dull ghost. The idol’s light was stolen away, extinguished and never to return to the same outstanding hue.
Soon the spec’s inner glow extinguished also, yet her exterior shell remained visible as an obvious gemstone. Her bright existential being stood out among the flat-toned solid rock her. Yet still underneath this fallacy she continued to hollow into emptiness.
With all that empty space, the spec began to feel a hunger. Pangs for intrinsic meaning kindled. So off she ventured again. She searched with a voracious appetite for the missing Truth needed within to match the Truth of her exterior. She trudged determined, desperate, hopeless, all at once.
A day came where she found a new territory. In opposition to her wants, she heard a message:
This is a dangerous route. Truth is not to be chased after by running away: you have your Truth instinctively. Seek within, and look no further.
This, to her, was unfathomable. Wild mania pulsed her being; euphoria numbed out reality as she ventured into the new territory in frantic anticipation of the Truth she craved.
The spec unknowingly began to encounter danger. The external entity began to dissolve around her. A split occurred, leaving solely the dichotomy of her, the spec, and it, the Truth. Their polarity stirred havoc, brewed a helix of delusion spindled with denial and irony: in her frenzied search for boundless Truth, in the end she lived contained by increasingly suffocating walls of Lies. She felt she was rising to higher grounds when really she was sinking to lower plateaus.
The seemingly extenuating danger actually pulsed from deep within the creature. It originated long ago in the lifetime of the idol and deathtime of the known haven. Through her pupils was a superlative canvas with endless width and infinite depth, paint splashed intricately to detail perfection neatly, sensibly, comprehensibly. Ever-sprouting growth, vivacious tones morphed miraculously into ardent sheens of what she truly believed to be the essence of pure Truth. This view made sense. This view enticed tranquility and ignited life. So this view, this self-articulated canvas, was what she saw. And because what she saw was blinding exquisiteness, this was what she believed. It was, after all, what she yearned for, for what painfully felt like eons.
Yet there was another canvas painted in discorded syncopation. Beyond glassy pupils the canvas paint grew bleak, aggressively erasing phenomenal splendor. Beyond the canvas the lush, abundant vibrancy withered and wilted. The spec’s appetite swept from voracious to gluttonous –hysterically chasing an even more extensive picturesque story.
The remarkable vision of almighty haven began to bleed from her deluded pupils and they fogged over like ash covering violent volcanic grounds. She found her haven blanketed once more. This time not with tranquility, rather a blanket so thickly unforgiving it suffocated everything it covered. The blanket was a superfluous tidal wave overwhelming all ground with unforgiving destruction. The mass of the water rushed across the entire canvas and sunk into all emptiness so deeply and forcefully that it broke the creature’s believed unshakable foundation into schisms.
The marvelous canvas wept until it was barren, entirely empty, exposing the true fullness of the Lie.
Crushed, beaten, shattered, the spec shrunk with agony. She felt so impossibly devastated; irreparably damaged. She dissolved into morbidity. She was stripped of fervor. She became an existence of nothing. Invisible.
Terrified, the nothing mustered every minutiae remaining and struggled through the dreadfully degraded tide.
She then recollected the message received before she crossed the barrier: Truth is not to be chased after by running away: you have your own Truth instinctively. Seek within, and look no further.
The nothing halted her intense struggle. She grasped the brim of the chasm to prevent sinking, knuckles burning white.
Seek within, and look no further. She understood in that moment what she could not even consider at the time of the message delivery. The nothing recognized in losing the idol and the haven she lost herself. She disconnected so greatly that she convinced herself of emptiness and deducted the necessity to be full of substance.
Seek within, and look no further …
But she did look further, entirely overlooking her pain she pushed forward, trying to recreate the haven she once had. She never could have anticipated the gates of hell disguising the entrance to a new-found promised land.
And so there she was, returning to reality, the nothing wearily gripping the very edge of what could be a plummet to her definite, irreversible demise. Knuckles white.
She shed a tear. And then the river flowed from within, adding pools of salt to the great flood. She realized the gravity of the situation and was overcome with a plethora of ineffable emotions. How could she have so strongly deluded herself, painting such a fabulous illusion which evaded reality entirely?
The nothing looked frantically as far as she could see in every direction around her. She squinted her eyes to see further across the horizon of flooded desolation. Despaired, she realized she was at the final turning point. Still clutching the verge of life with white knuckles, she made her decision. She refused to continue to look further.
Exhausted, the nothing hopelessly let go. She simply, let go. Overwhelmed with both relief and fear, sinking into an unknown abyss, falling, it dawned on her: she has her own Truth instinctively. She quit looking further and white-knuckling her attempt to hold onto a futile life.
And suddenly, she sought within. It was only in this moment she found Truth.
Relieved with the sated appetite as she was embodied by inner Truth, the nothing became something substantial after all.
There once was a haven. In the end, the gemstone saw the haven was with her all along.