To Understand What Is

The past surrounds me like mountain fog as I walk into the darkened room.
It grips me with icy fingers that chill my gut and stifle my breath.
Warily I look at the shadows, making sure that nothing is hiding.
I see naught to give me pause.

Why should something be hiding, I ask myself with irritation.
The foolishness of my fear is almost as strong as the fear itself.
I hate myself for being apprehensive.

Wasn’t it Confucius who said “Silence is the true friend that never betrays?”
What a wise man he truly must have been.
Clearly, being alone is the safest path.

Finally, I take the time to study the room that surrounds me.
It reeks of despair – the frosty decay of spices and incense.
The shadows fail to obscure the moldy patches that cover the walls.
There lingers an aura of hopelessness.

The floor seems frozen, and I can feel coolness snake up my body.
It is as though the tremendous space is only there to frighten me.
What point is there in darkness?

“Don’t touch me,” I whisper to the walls as they seem to close in.

Closing my eyes, I remember the dangers of projection:
a reflection of my purview upon everything I see,
causing me to see pain where I might have seen joy.

Could I make the decision to see beauty instead of death?
I remember that feeling of joy, letting it warm my bones.
It flows through my blood like a silky cream.

I smile as I realize that I had not lost that part of myself,
opening my eyes and looking at the room, discarding my past presuppositions.
Shock flutters through me – had it really looked like this before?

The room that surrounds me is filled with light from an open window.
The walls are painted an eggshell blue.
It is filled with the scent of baby powder and soft oils.
There is a sense of… rebirth.

Can I trust it?
Wasn’t it Churchill who said, “Sunshine is my quest?”