“No one can live without relationship. You may withdraw into the mountains, become a monk, a sannyasi, wander off into the desert by yourself, but you are related. You cannot escape from that absolute fact. You can not exist in isolation.” ~ Jiddu Krishmamurti

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What happens when someone has wandered alone in the desert for too long?

A desert spell that has existed for so long that nothing even feels remotely “normal” anymore beyond oceans of dry sand.

It is ridiculously hot, and there is scarce water in the desert. The main thing that exists there are mountains of sand and dry hot winds that blow that sand.

You can dream of water—even see mirages of water—but there is rarely water. A thirst begins to exist so deep that it seems it could not be quenched.

I know all too well that if you think you see water in the desert, it is probably only a mirage. For even a fool knows that finding water in the desert is a sacred event.

Maybe dreams are the only thing that are real in this life, and what we perceive to be our waking lives is merely fantasy. These bodies we wear are a costume we put on and parade around in each waking moment that we exist beyond the dream state. In this state, we encounter unique characters, those who weave in and out of our lives. Some have supporting roles, and others are simply extras who fade into the background of our life story as it unfolds.

What about our story?

“You and I have spoken all these words, but for the way we have to go, words are no preparation. I have one small drop of knowing in my soul, let it dissolve in your ocean.” ~ Rumi

I have so many things I want to say to you and do with you, but I don’t know how to get there from here. I think perhaps I’ve given it too much thought. Somehow, I feel like we know each other already on some unseen level. A level that originates at the soul. We haven’t even come close to scratching the surface of what this could be.

However, I can’t help asking myself if this is all somehow another illusion, a figment of imagination. Did I manage to somehow dream you up in my head, and you happened to appear and fall miraculously like rain from a desert sky?

If this is a dream, I do not want to wake up; nor do I wish to wander alone in the desert anymore. If you are indeed the water I’ve been hopelessly searching for—how can I be certain that you are not another mirage?

Do you know how close these parched lips have come to tasting water before? I have stumbled upon far too many empty wells only to lower my bucket and bring it back up hollow, barren, filled with more sand.

I crave your storm clouds to sweep over me and pour down your rains on this time etched desert sand. I want to feel your energy, your electricity, and listen to your thunder like a favorite poem that you would recite over and over until it consoles me.

Can you turn the ocean of sand into a mighty sea? Or are you simply another mirage I dreamed up in my head as I’ve been wandering around the desert aimlessly?

“The desert and the ocean are realms of desolation on the surface. The desert is a place of bones, where the innards are turned out, to desiccate into dust. The ocean is a place of skin, rich outer membranes hiding thick juicy insides, laden with the soup of being. Inside out and outside in. These are worlds of things that implode or explode, and only the catalyst that determines the direction of eco-movement is the balance of water. Both worlds are deceptive, dangerous. Both, seething with hidden life. The only veil that stands between perception of what is underneath the desolate surface is your courage. Dare to breech the surface and sink.” ~ Vera Nazarian

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Author: Annie R. Towns
Image: Peakpx
Editor: Yoli Ramazzina
Copy editor: Callie Rushton
Social editor: Callie Rushton