Into Unchartered Territory

He stood on the edge of the cliff, hands folded in prayer, watching the sun rising on the horizon with unblinking eyes. The wind whispered his own name in his ears, as it passed him by, and he was as oblivious to the sound of the waves crashing against the rocky cliff a few hundred metres below him, as he was to the tickling sensations caused by ants that were crawling up his feet, unaware and uncaring of who or what it was that they were climbing upon, but merely doing what their instinct directed them to do.

The only sound he could hear was the beating of his heart, steady, rhythmically, in tune with his surroundings, and he felt at peace with himself, as he prepared for what was to follow. He felt the warmth of the sun's rays striking him, enriching him with the energy that it provided, as he kept on staring away towards the horizon, feeling slightly breathless at the sight that was unfolding in front of his eyes.

For all the phlegmatism that emerged out of his being, was an equal and opposite feeling of mental turbulence that he had experienced not so long ago. Looking back at all that was past, he couldn't believe the transformation that had taken place, and how he had come to where he was right now, and he'd have to count for a long time, were he called upon to count his blessings.

It had been very painful, in a manner that cannot be described in words. Not the kind of pain that one experiences in an accident, where the mind and body are caught unawares as something very grievous happens to the physical self in a mere flash, leaving for a long recovery time. It was something akin to the slow death of an integral part of his being, a demise that he brought upon, by his own volition, not as a momentary lapse of reason, but after a prolonged duration of clear thinking and intricate analysis, during which he came to the decision that it was necessary to cause himself short-term misery for the greater good.

When the gangrenous affliction threatened to spread and seep into his very being, in an attempt to quell his nature and force him to surrender, causing him to plunge in excruciating slow-motion into an unending abyss that was the beginning of his downfall, he had no choice but to perform the operation before it did him more harm.

He knew that he had to do it himself, and that no substitutes could be employed and that he had to do it alone. The operation was the most painful experience he had to undergo, and by the time it was done, he was mortally exhausted, and on the brink, as his sanity hung in the balance, albeit precariously.

He sat down, all alone in the chambers of his mind, strait-jacketed within the constraints of its padded walls, commencing the long healing process that was necessary after undergoing what he did. His mind went all awry, as he was left alone to his own devices, unable to do anything to alleviate himself from the situation, except for to wait for the passage of time, as it chose to pass on by, it seemed to him, in a manner such that it couldn't get any slower, even if it willed itself to do so.

Fortunately, he had prepared himself for all this, or so he thought, as he led his mind onto unchartered territory, having a dream within a dream within a dream within a dream, ad infinitum. Things ended up being so blurry, that he was unsure of what reality was, and what he was dreaming about, for both were so intricately and inexorably wrapped against and within each other that it was impossible to tell the difference.

It was in one of these mental flights of fancy, that he saw himself sitting aside a fire, in a clearing in the woods, trying to keep himself warm and protected against the creatures of the night and the unknown darkness that surrounded him, the fire being his sole refuge and sanctuary. He caught himself, for the very first time in a long time, wishing for some company to tide him through this intermittent period of crisis, so that when dawn arrived, he could commence his journey yet again.

He closed his eyes, and began praying to God, an act of submission he had long forgotten, as he went about on his hedonistic pursuits. A few minutes after he commenced his prayer, there was a blinding flash of light that caught him unawares, and he could feel the intensity of the light hurt his eyes even though he had his eyes firmly shut.

Once he sensed that the light's intensity had reduced enough to ensure that he would not be blinded, he opened his eyes, slowly, to see a lady clad in the purest white, looking at him, her smiling countenance spreading a feeling of happiness and warmth within him.

"Aren't you Galadriel from the Lord of the Rings?", he asked, unable to keep his vain attempts of humour at bay, the situation notwithstanding.

"No, I'm afraid not!", she said, as she smiled, giving him the indication that his stupid joke had hit bullseye. "I am the Angel of Reason, sent here to help you out of your proverbial dilemma. Please tell me what I can help you with, and I promise you that I will do my best to remedy your situation."

An instinctive urge took over him, and his customary reticence was replaced by unbridled loquacity, as he proceeded to tell the Angel everything that he could recall, from the very outset, till the present time, where he was caught in the web of his own dreams, his dimming sense of reality being ambushed by his restless mind.

After listening to him patiently, she thought for a while and then said, "There are two possible paths you can follow, both of which I can show you. But at the end of the day, the choice rests upon you as to which course you need to take, and the choice you make shall determine your own fate."

He was running out of options, and what the Angel suggested seemed to him as the best possible solution that one could offer, and he agreed with her almost immediately.

She first led him along a path into the forest, towards where they could hear loud noises and bright lights, in a clearing up ahead. She motioned him to stay silent, as she took his hand and brought him onto a place from where they could observe the proceedings without being subject to any observation themselves.

There were a bunch of people, sitting around fires spread all across the field, talking, shouting loudly, gambling, drinking and indulging themselves, while their amputated organs clung to them, attached to them by thick twines, as they attempted to please themselves by subjecting themselves to continuous pain, in an attempt to live with what they had chosen to give up, but being unable to do so completely. The Angel pointed out among the various merry-makers, Doubt, Despair, Anguish, Pain and other demons, that, given the least amount of leeway, could ensnare you forever and make you their own.

He noticed that the people there were having fun, but at the expense of inflicting pain on the others, and this was something that had him prejudiced against this particular course of action.

He then turned towards the Angel and asked her what the alternative was. She proceeded to take him along another path, towards a long straight path in the woods, that seemed to never end. "The other path is long and filled with things I myself am unaware of, and it is between this and what I have shown you that you need to make your choice. Good luck with whatever you intend to do."

"Please don't go, you're the only Angel I know", he said, in what sounded very much like the starting words of a song from this band named 'No Mercy', that he had heard at least a decade ago, while pleading with her in earnest to stay.

"I am a part of you, manifested in this form to serve a purpose, which, I gather from the peek that I have had in your mind, has been addressed appropriately enough. You are as alone in this journey as you choose to be. Goodbye for now. I shall see you if you are ever to summon me again. Remember, if you choose the second path, you have to continue and never stop, no matter what you face, or what happens."

Without a flourish, she disappeared, leaving him at the crossroads, from where he had to make a choice to choose one of two paths. The first one was the predictable one, that led to instant gratification, but he had to stoop low to achieve catharsis, and the other path was the unknown one, which was, well, unknown.

He chose the latter, and began his walk. One of the first acts he performed was to rid himself of that amputated part that was clinging onto his back like an incubus, slowing his pace down. The scar from the operation would probably never fade, but it was something he had to live with. His burdens considerably lighter, he trudged on with renewed zeal along the unchartered path that the Angel had pointed out to him.

It was still dark, but he was not afraid of the unknown. It seemed to him as though he was in a movie, with the background soundtrack playing all of his favourite music, as he began a slow jog that turned, with time, into a full blown sprint towards an unknown destination. The thorny bushes scratched him and tore his clothes to pieces, but he was not concerned in the least bit.

He ran for what seemed like eternity, until he arrived at the edge of the cliff, and stood right at the precipice, with his toes over the edge, and only his heels keeping him from going over. He heard the Angel's voice in his head, crystal clear, imploring him to continue and never to stop, no matter what, and it was then that he knew what had to be done.

He was thankful for the Angel to have shown him the way, and as thankful to himself for having taken it. The healing process had begun when he had started running, and was almost complete now. The scar would remain, and would do well in place of any war wound he could have had, considering he wasn't really the violent type.

Causing harm was not on his list of things to do, and at the end of the day, he heaved a sigh of relief at not having felt the need to do so, consciously. Standing on the edge of the cliff, he stood still, and closed his eyes, tilting his head upwards to the heavens. He could feel himself coming out of his own being, as all the dreams that he had, and all the dimming perceptions of reality that were engaged in a roller coaster ride within his mind, all converged together in a blinding flash of light, swirling in a tornado-like fashion, round and round until they finally converged, passing within him, disappearing into nothingness and making him see the light.

It was then that he put his arms together, folding it slowly into a position of supplication, and then folding them together in a gesture of prayer combined with one of gratitude, as he took a few deep breaths, waiting for the sun to erupt onto the horizon.

It was a leap of faith, waiting to be taken, and he wasted no further time. Life was too short as it was, and he didn't want to wait any longer than was necessary.

With one last lingering glance towards the horizon, he set forth, and without a moment's hesitation, dove into the void.

(What you just read was not put here by mistake. It was, in retrospect, an attempt at some serious writing, just to see if I would be able to do it, should the need or the circumstance arise. I don't know how good or how bad it has turned out to be, but it wasn't so bad writing it out. This allegorical rendition followed after a conversation with a friend of mine - I can't tell you whether he/she was real or imaginary. Apologies if the first line of standing on the edge of the cliff, seemed very Fountainhead -like. I have read only 50 pages of that book, and any similarity between what was written above and anything at all in the book is unintended coincidence. The use of Fountainhead, incidentally, just increased the google-friendliness of this page by a substantial margin!)