A Dialogue with Change
A smile in the darkness.
“What is wrong with you?” I ask “How can you be so happy amidst so much pain, so much hurt, so much despair?” Still smiling, the face turns to me. Resembling a theatre mask of old times majestic, it sat there gazing at me for what seemed like an eternity. Then, in a gentle voice, the face says calmly:
“This darkness is like a passing storm, it will be over soon.” As if on queue, the atmosphere changes, color overtakes the immediate space surrounding me. As if by storm, the negative feelings of the present seem to drift away as clouds.
Mesmerized, I sat in this colorful pasture; basking in the rays of this strange energy. I am overtaken by light and moved by music. Euphoria overcomes me. As the energy pulses through me, I begin to be reminded of past times.
Times as a child, running aimlessly and carelessly through the streets of my hometown. Times in my not-so-distant past of gatherings with friends. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the nameless face. His expression, like this strange world, had changed. A frown stretched down to his rounded chin, and darkness filled his eyes. All I could see was anguish, despair, and torment etched on his face.
“What is wrong with you?!” I ask “How can you be so miserable amidst so much joy, so much love, so much peace?” Still frowning, the face turns to me; its theatrical expression somewhat amusing to me in such a playful atmosphere. Then, in a frantic voice, the face says:
“This light is like a passing storm, it will be over soon.” As if on queue, the atmosphere changes, a pinhole-sized black hole opens in front of me; and as it expands, the light becomes dimmer, until only blackness encompasses the surroundings. Slowly, the feelings of joy are swept away from me; covered instead by thick clouds of pain, of hurt, of anguish. I try desperately to hold on, but the darkness consumes them. Dehabilitating waves of remorse bring in memories of shame, depression, and regret.
A crippling fear grips me, my knees buckle, and I fall shaking to the ice-cold ground. I open my mouth, and with fright in my voice, I cry out to this nameless face, this twisted Phantom of the Unseen.
“Who are you?!” Drifting over to me, the face emits warmth. Again, the eyes are filled with light, a warm smile planted on his face. Gently he says to me:
“I am changing, I am passing, I am the revolution of time. I am here through the transitions of history.”
“How have you been so twisted by the present that you have become so warped in your emotions?!” I ask him.
“It is my curse, and I am stuck with it. I’ve been doing this too long.” “With knowledge of the pattern, I have become inverse in feeling. I have learned to become cynical in times of beauty; and optimistic in times of chaos.” A chill runs through my entire body, and I begin to sob uncontrollably.
Closer the face comes to me, and in almost a whisper he says “Do not be so frightened, this darkness is like a passing storm, it will be over soon.” Instantly, I am taken up off of my feet. Up into the air I go. Swirling and twirling into a whirlwind of color and imagination.
Suddenly, I am awake; as if out of a trance. A bead of sweat flowed down my face. I’m in my classroom. This is where I remember being before I had jumped into that insane world. All around me, I see smiles, I hear laughter. Sitting next to me is a friend; she is looking at me, confused.
“What’s wrong?” she asks “You don’t look too well.” Turning to her I smile, I find myself filled with warmth and compassion for this girl’s kind words. Opening my mouth, I say very softly, very gently:
“I am so blessed today, I feel great; and though this light is like a passing storm and will be over soon, I will enjoy every minute of it till it does.”