A rolling hillside

I was a rolling hillside, verdant and green with gentle hills and soft valleys with small, delicate flowers scattered but no bushes, no trees to obstruct the view. Winter, Summer and Fall visited but Spring reigned for much of the time. Spring, with her warm sunshine and caressing breezes, carrying the promise and hope of beginnings, of potential Springs and of a fruitful life. 

Then the landscape started to rumble, a stark contrast to the docile scene I had cultivated for so long.The rumble grew to a growl coming from deep within the earth subdued by turf and birdsong but unmistakable. Growling again and again until finally it split the ground, as I feared it would. The beast clawed its way to the surface. But I threw myself upon it, desperate to keep it from destroying my lovely land. I kept it down until the darkness finally crept away. I thought I had conquered it, that deepest darkness, but it had only receded to lick its wounds and wait until it grew stronger, meaner, nastier. And when it came again I tried and tried and tried to be ok, to not feel, to not despair until it was upon me. Screaming so loudly I could no longer hear the birds, could not smell the fragrant flowers or feel the warm sunshine, all I could do was scream back and cover my ears and curl into a small ball and pray for help. It tormented me, that scream, that cruel, high scream only I could hear and it drove me to panic. Panic that it would get out and devastate the scene of my life, it would torment others as it had tormented me and I couldn’t let that happen. It demanded a sacrifice and I would bravely have been the one to relieve the torment, the anguish of this darkness.

Then I heard a voice and felt a hand and was saved by the people I was desperate to protect. They didn’t see it, this snarling beast of darkness, they were not afraid. I didn’t need to save them, they were already safe. They needed to save me, to wrestle me from the grips of this lying, dirty Darkness. And they did, they stayed with me, they held my hand, stroked my hair and promised that their Love would save me. They promised brighter days and turned my thoughts towards happier times when the darkness wasn’t so daunting. They promised it would get better. And I believed them and hung on. 

Then I met the Excavator and he told me that the badness was not mine, He argued and reasoned and promised to help me. We explored the landscape gingerly, searching softly for where the darkness had retreated because it was still there and the Excavator promised we could unearth it slowly and seeing it would make it less awful. I refused, determined to kill it on my own. I would be the sacrifice the Beast would demand and I wouldn’t risk anyone else getting hurt. But He said it didn’t hurt him, He had met the darkness, spoken with it even and I could too. He promised seeing it would be better than keeping it hidden. 

So we explored until we found a boulder, not a very interesting looking boulder but out of place on my lovely hillside. It was next to a rocky field I knew about but hadn’t visited frequently because it was uncomfortable going, it was hard to climb over all those rocks and I preferred to stay in my lovely valley not concerned about what was beyond. But that boulder throbbed with red hot pain when I touched it and I retreated and he told me it would hurt and we would go gently but it must come out, it was the darkness hiding and it was holding me hostage with it’s threat and it’s gnawing sounds. So I started to dig and it hurt and the more I dug the more it hurt until I had laid bare the boulder and it was monumental. Excavating that boulder turned so much of my beautiful landscape to barren, scorched earth, it ached like a burning deep inside and I was wounded and stripped bare and then I saw it, I saw the darkness was just hiding in the deep, dark well that the boulder had been nested in. It was there crouching and taunting me that it would never go away unless I went with it. But once the boulder was out the Excavator broke it into a million pieces, pieces so small they were no longer fatal. 

But my landscape was no longer verdant and fruitful. It was desolate and burning with shame and pain. Bare earth exposed by digging and by the fire that raged. Stark, lifeless desolation was my new home but I waited, I had waited before, I could wait again. And Time passed and the earth was quenched, not immediately or all together but small areas of pain began to ease slightly. Sexual healing, confession, love as tender and kind as a sapling but strong and resilient. That love was still mine, it would grow even in the vast emptiness that had become my land. And bit by bit I healed; cool relief came in sprinkles of rain and gusts of wind. Grass began to grow again across my hillside.  

Now I have another rocky place but I am not afraid to go there because it is mine. I know the landscape, I know the pitfalls and the guides who will help me not get stuck there but to continue on in my journey to explore this lovely place I call my mind.