Tabula Rasa

It was everywhere - wild, and long. It had been left to grow untamed, reaching a scrappy height that could only be achieved in the most remote of natural lands, untouched, never stirred. To be here was remarkable, it felt monumental in some strange way, as if sharing a secret with an ancient world that was now long forgotten. To learn that this had once been a site of great spiritual virtue would not come as a surprise; the feeling could only be described as something bordering on Holy. A gentle morning dew lined the length of each green blade, causing a delicate moisture to hang in the air - not quite heavy enough to feel weighed down by, but its presence was certainly there. It was cooling, and the slight autumn breeze cooled the air further still. The early sun, just rising above the peak of the neighbouring hill, was starting to burn away the clouds that had gathered overnight. Their disbanding was slow, they appeared groggy and dense, but with every passing minute of the sun’s hard labour, they lost their weight to the infinite skies above, revealing an unscathed blue canvas stretching to the corners of the world. Once the remaining clouds had broken, the sky sang stillness, only sporadically disrupted by passing wings and birdsong. Watching the birds in flight - their colours vivid and magnificent - was quite the sight to behold. Wings moved in slow motion, swathed in black, speckled with hues of deep greens and blues in all sorts of patterns, and the tiniest of motions sent these colourful beings swooping and soaring. Their dance was unrehearsed, yet effortlessly seamless. The airborne twists and turns spoke of love, of hope - the stories of their little lives told through swift and subtle movements. It was easy to envy their choiceless freedom - a freedom to move and glide to wherever felt like home that night, a freedom most would never know. Standing here, however, at this peak covered in grass, brought on the closest feeling to that freedom. As the sun continued its ascent, it changed the landscape entirely. The deep green of the wild grass transformed into something more golden, emitting a regal glow that was brought out further with the rising light. Shadows were cast at eternally changing angles, illuminating every face of every surface, causing the perspective of their heights and shapes to constantly change. Those tiny beads of dawn’s droplets had evaporated along with the clouds at a barely noticeable rate - present one moment and gone without a trace the next. As the crisp air grew warmer, everything seemed to soften; hard edges were rounded out and the blades of grass drooped slightly, their heads hanging in an afternoon daze, bringing on the desire for a siesta. While the faces and shapes of the peak’s surroundings changed as the day grew older, the stillness remained the only true, unwavering constant. It brought on a feeling that nothing else existed - as if the Universe had shrunk in its entirety and was now condensed to this peak. The horizons became the edges of the Earth and nothing else existed beyond them. The stillness was undeniably soothing, but left a little too much room for racing thought. In the right headspace, this would be the ideal scene for deep emotional growth, a chance to right the world’s wrongs and become new, rejuvenated. Stillness, however, also has the ability to water the seeds of the darkest of thoughts, allowing them to do nothing but feed and grow. Stillness must be treated with respect, and caution, in equal measures. On the neighbouring peak stood a solitary tree, its thick roots deep and permanent - a rarity, to see one solo bark rising from the ground without another anywhere in sight. Like the dancing birds, this tree was choiceless in its freedom, but in the most opposite way. Its perpetual placement was decided, its one job in life to simply rise and expand upwards and outwards, to provide a home for some, a resource of food and materials for others. Hundreds of years old, it stood proud, knowing it had achieved everything its life was intended for. Its unwavering strength was simply amazing, there was nothing more that could be expressed without bordering on disingenuous. Hours had now passed and the early evening was creeping in. Slowly the sun bade a bitter farewell, reluctantly making room for the opal moon, and soon the Earth was cast in a Heavenly glow. The white moonlight further deepened that undeniable spiritual connection to the Great Something. It was humbling. It was awe-inspiring. In a strange way, the night sky did not bring on the stillness that was present with the clarity of day - there was simply too much activity. The once blue canvas above was now painted a dark purple, and with every second a new burning star appeared, littering the infinite ceiling. Countless miles from civilisation, there were no other lights to contend with, and these swarming stars reigned free. Suddenly it all made sense. Those questions that had been festering for so many years were answered just as the moon reached the peak of its arc. In that moment, everything hung in perfect clarity. The grass, the clouds, the birds, they were free, they lived in a constant state of liberated movement and never settled down. Growing, appearing and disappearing, flying through the world with unabashed recklessness - they screamed change. The sun, the shadows, the tree, while all moving they were also fixed in a reliable constant. Rising, falling, eternally expanding, it was suddenly so apparent that the juxtaposition of ephemeral moments and lifelong permanence held the balance that life needed. Nature was holding the answer all along, it simply had to be experienced, here, over the course of one entire day. It did not matter now. The answers had simply arrived too late. Stillness once more, sadly watering and feeding the darkest of thoughts that had lived for an eternity. I jumped.