Worlds Within Worlds is the working title of a series of writings that are shaping themselves into a story without my conscious direction. These are essentially unedited first drafts that I have made no attempt to shape with my conscious mind. Please comment on whatever aspect you would like. An introduction to the series and a list of the posts in order (should you want to begin at the beginning) is on the Writer’s World page.
A Glimpse Beneath the Veil:
Worlds Within Worlds #1
Ordinary reality peels away, as if some cosmic hand wipes a film from my eyes. The sounds of cicadas, frogs, crickets and trickling water take on a vibrancy that thrums through my being like a mantra. Ripples from the gentle waterfall spread across the pond like the vibrations of my mind spreading to all humanity and beyond. Never have I seen grass so green, or such a depth of blue in the pristine sky. The grass and the sky have not changed, merely my perception of them. The limitations of my mind have fallen away and I glimpse beneath the veil.
Movement. Like a fish rising from the depths of a clear, still pond, some remnant of ordinary mind surfaces. A desire. Work calls. Someone must put food on the table. It is the challenge of all beings, to hunt, to graze, to feed oneself and one’s family.
I sigh. And the veil falls back as I turn my mind to the mundane. As a self-employed editor, I make my own work hours, but I don’t always take the time I should for the things I should. Like housework. Argh. Why bother when in a few days everything is dirty again? So I stretch the time between vacuum cleaning sessions. I do what’s necessary, but I’d love a Brownie. Not the chocolate eating kind, though I’d like that too. No. The Brownie I’d like is the Fae kind, but it’s dangerous to commune with the Fae world. I don’t believe in faeries anyway. Tinkerbell would die if it were up to me.
Mind you, I don’t live in the old world. If I did, I might believe in the existence of the creatures in European fairy tales. But if there are such things as unseen beings, then Australia has its own kind – beings as ancient as this ancient land. What form they take, I have yet to see. Do they even take a form? I don’t see them, but I feel something; I sense a great deal more than I expect most others do.
Must we see unseen beings to accept their existence? I feel life in the rocks, the trees, in the very earth itself out here in the Australian rainforest. The original inhabitants of this land have their words for such things, but they reflect their beliefs, not mine. I do not want language to step between me and my experience, but the curtain between worlds has closed again anyway, and I must turn to other pursuits.