The Mystic Road

   It was an ideal summer Sunday. Cumulus clouds climbed into a baby blue sky.  As my wife slept the afternoon away, I drove lost country roads-north to south, east to west-through the Indiana corn. My favorite jam played on the radio. I was insignificant yet infinite; no one could find me if they tried. Like a beggar eating his supper meal, the last morsel of freedom in this sick old world was found in my Chevy coupe: on a deserted road, beneath the sweltering sun, amidst the sprawling farmland and dilapidated barns. I was alive but once, free, knowing that I would die . As I drove, that old song echoed through.

   “Ding, Ding, Ding,” my cars computer interrupted my lucid mind state. I slowed down and looked at the display console. “Oh, Crap,” I said aloud. The car was overheating. I pulled to the side of the road, stopped, got out, and popped the hood. I looked at the engine and noticed steam escaping the coolant container. I took off my t-shirt, wrapped it around my hand, and unscrewed the container lid-steam hissed as scalding droplets of water exploded out. When I looked in the container, I found what I expected-bone dry. I assessed the situation. I had no water to add as coolant or to drink. I had no phone. There were no houses around. There was no one to ask for help, and the nearest sub-division was approximately five miles southward. So, I did the only thing I could do. I started walking.

   I soon found a rhythm-inhale, step, step, step, exhale, step. So, I  let my thoughts wander as I fell into a trance. The sun is terribly hot and the humidity makes it worse-inhale, step, step, step, exhale, step. Suffering is always rewarded with inspiration-inhale, step, step, step, exhale, step. My wife must wonder where I am-inhale, step, step, step, exhale, step. Maybe someone will pass by and pick me up-inhale, step, step, step, exhale, step. I stopped and looked back. My car in the distance seemed lonely and safe. I wanted to return to it, but I had already come so far and the Spirit was kind. I turned around and continued to walk. No one knows where I am-inhale, step, step, step, exhale, step. I wish I had something to drink-inhale, step, step, step, exhale, step.

   The mind is a nautilus shell. A Fibonacci spiral circling down to infinity, circling down to the center of our being. And at the limit where life ceases to be material resides the universe-within our minds, bound in space, not in time. We are in the universe and the universe is within us. All the secrets of mathematics and science are within us. They will come forth and we will know everything. We have always known everything. All the mysteries of the universe are ours. The keys to life are hidden in the memory of our ancestors, and the doors to the unseen have already been unlocked. Oh, the depths of the riches of the neglected parts of ours souls… Mystic forces guided me safely home, and that night I lay on the couch trying to remember my entire life. My wife sat by my side reading. I was weak and slightly nausous, but I clung to the waking world. “Jenny,” I said. “The greatest gift God ever gave me was you.”

Written by: Brett Wiley

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