humanity

There was a creature rising from the earth, made from flesh and from the earth itself. It was born of the earth, one with the earth and decaying back in to the earth. It was human, or rather, it was once human; the source of all humanity and the place to where we return once we die. It was compost. The creature breathed on me, a long, slow breath, drawn up from its unfathomable depths. Its breath smelled sweet and rotten, fecund and ancient. I could smell life and death and time. As it breathed on me I understood that we are all born of the same flesh. We each enter the world, of the world. We are an expression, an extension of the same force, the same source. We are an organism. A living, breathing energy spreading across the earth. Unstoppable, almost, but for the earth itself, which will consume us just as we consume the earth. We are driven to survive and change and, I understood, what sets us apart is our constant striving. Striving to be better, to have more, to change, to succeed, to overcome, to create, to build. Striving. Just as in our bodies how when a cell dies it is swept away, I saw how when we stop striving we die and decompose back into the earth. We need to move to survive. To stagnate is death. At the same time, it is our striving that will finish us. I breathed in the breath of this original human creature and understood, and then I woke.

summit

I was driving the roads of my hometown. The houses were absent and there were no buildings, as far as the eye could see; yet, I recognised this place - the rise and fall of the landscape. My car laboured up a steep slope, but I was preoccupied, surprised by the changed flora: fruit trees laden with fruit grew jungle-like, fringing the road. Through the trees I could glimpse the sea, skirting the hill up which I drove. I realised I had my handbrake on, so I released it and found the car travelled more swiftly. However, the fruit trees now grew so densely they blocked the road ahead. I left my car and continued on foot, the ground sandy beneath my feet, the road now a narrow track. There was only a short walk up the hill - not more than a minute - before I reached the crest, but I was fearful. To go on, I would need to climb over branches and sidle around trunks. I thought of snakes. I felt alone. I knew, from the summit, I'd likely see the lay of the land and the ocean around me. I knew I'd witness the beauty of place and feel a sense of freedom. Yet, I turned back.