A Face Full of Dirt

(Likened unto visionaries we shall walk with still feet and not trample the tall blades or spill their green life)

I fell on my face the other day, or maybe in another time, and they came, I thought to laugh at me, but offered warm hands, I thought in self righteous piety - and I told them all about themselves - I thought. If they had just seen and told me I would not have fallen. They too should fall on their smiling little faces and taste the dirt that I can taste, and eat the mud and slime.

I waited for a while, or a lifetime, and felt them move back out of my awareness.

The dampness about me had a dark warmth and life all of its own - moving on soft edges and brittle limbs and burrowing into darkness to die and give life back to the cycle. And I watched and drew my own life from theirs and I heard their whispers and longed for their wisdom.

(We moved beyond his sight but always watched for him, for the movement would not be long)

After a time I felt the wind moving through my hair as if challenging my part in the earth cycle, and I moved, ever so slight, my face braking contact with the earth, and the breeze twisted around my cheeks. The life of the breeze was complete and unto itself and above the earth. But the dirt held my eyes and the life of the wind and earth would blend, I thought, at least with me as their mediator. But the strain on my neck was growing and with my desire for the life of the wind AND the life of the earth eating at my heart, confusion held fast.

(We saw the moment, stepped forward, and gently raised his head)

As my strength gave, hands, warm and gentle, lifted my head back to the compromise, and I welcomed their strength. But they kept lifting a little higher, and a little higher. And the breeze began to enfold my whole face, and I understood the life of the air, I thought, and restrained the hands there, for here was all understanding! It seemed.

The hands held firm and never faltered and I wondered at their strength and beauty. I remembered then, MY hands, and slowly brought them up to my face, examined them and began to see the likeness to those that held me!

(We moved closer - he was seeing, and an eagerness flooded our hearts)

I touched my face - with my hands! They felt like those who held me. I felt the dirt still clinging to my cheeks, almost embedded grain by grain into the skin. I rubbed, and dirt fell, and as it fell I felt more of the life of the air, and in my excitement I found I was leaning on my elbows and the hands moved to help me.

(We smiled now, and cautiously prepared to lift him as he gave us leave)

The air filled my spirit but it overwhelmed me, and the simple cycle of life in the earth held my mind. I tasted the grains on my fingers and smelled the mud, but now, I was only seeing its death. I hoped then that at least I would understand the air, so I pushed up back onto my hands and felt the other hands shift in firmer grip to help me. They felt so warm and loving compared to the damp of the earth, so that all I now desired was to see and feel more!

I raised my head slowly, straining against unused muscles, and saw faces. I think I remembered the faces, but I wasn't sure, and seeing their smiles, I smiled too and realised we shared the same life of the air.

(If they could all be this willing we would be there by now)

Together, we stood up - they held me still, though, for my legs were weak and shaky. I looked around and in the distance saw - something, a goal, and I began to walk with them, like visionaries, with still feet and not trampling the tall blades or spilling their green life.

And the wisdom of the life of the air filled me.