Each footstep looked more foreign than the last. Boot over boot I trekked down the path; cold, brown dirt in the middle and rows of short, vibrant, dark green grass on either side. It was an incredible juxtaposition that I enjoyed looking at more than the crackling sky or the looming tree canopies. A conveyor belt of Earth passed before me as I gave myself the perception of a natural treadmill. When you walk in such a way, nothing or no one will bother you. So with my chin tucked into my chest, I walked.
Walking this way I often find myself in a particular situation. I finally lift my head and will be completely unable to find familiarity in my surroundings. Spinning and pivoting on my boot heels I absorb as much of my new environment as possible, breathing in the fresh new sights. Put simply, I get lost.
Eventuality is my creed, hoisted upon me by fate. For even though I wander without purpose or direction, I always stumble back to friendly territories. Maybe it is due to being so well traveled. After grounding my blind paths for so many years, it has become a challenge to find myself unaware of my location. Not a challenge I partake in, but one that pursues me.
And so, as I carved my way through what I could only guess was a shortcut for lazy animals, I overcame my involuntary challenge. My foot stopped short, mostly without my guidance, and I thanked it, for a murky purple puddle of liquid lay below it. It blended so evenly and smoothly with the terrain I didn't realize it was there until I was almost in it. I took a step back and assessed the area. A small lake, or a large puddle, or a newborn ocean lay flat in front of me. The color at first seemed purple, changing to brown and now a deep green, speckled with blues. The water was surrounded on all sides by steep rock mountain sides, climbing up and out of the puddle in every direction. The sky above was open and clear and looked as if it might swallow the whole world at any moment. A malevolent maw of some unknown cosmic entity, expressing mercy for the time being. It struck me as a wonderful thought. I quite briskly shook the thought from my mind and turned around. My memory told me I walked along a dirt path to get here, but my memory was being shown to be a liar and a fraud. Behind me lied only fog and cloud and endless landscape. I paced to the edge of the cliff, only a few feet away, and stared out. The air felt dull, but holding meaning. The whites of the fog affixed a mysterium upon the view, both filling me with a giddy child's enjoyment and a cautious adult's fear. It was pure feeling and a majestic void. I turned away from it.
Back at the water, I struggled to find my reflection. The lake seemed as if it was a thick paint one moment and a translucent silk the next. I could see fish flittering about in the water at times, and I only just now started to question the legitimacy of this water. I sat down at its edge and thought.
My thinking process was cut short when I looked to my right and noticed a man standing against the mountainside. His back was against the rocks and one leg was bent at the knee, foot flat against the stone behind him. His arms were crossed in front of him and he seemed to be looking at me and over me at the same time. We stood there for a long while. I was caught, dumbfounded, mouth agape and mind running wild, and this surprise guest looked at home and only just slightly sinister.
I turned away from him and back at the water. There have already been too many surprises today. I watched him adjust himself in my periphery. He clearly wanted me to talk, but I wasn't about to give in. My legs began to cramp as I sat there and so I stood. I struggled to my feet and looked around. It felt as if whole weeks have passed, but it might have been minutes. I was tired of thinking. I grew tired of second guessing myself, stumbling over questions which don't have answers and outcomes that differ so little. Twisting my body, I spun about face so my back was to the water. The time for thinking was over. Decisive action would take place once more. I would get lost in the water. I spread my arms to my sides and fell back. I heard the stranger shout no loudly, but my eyes were closed and I was already set in motion. Water splashed around me, coating the dreamy sky in splashes of creativity. It felt cold and warm and wet and dry all together. An overload of senses turned my vision black.
When my vision returned I was laying flat-backed in a grassy field with a blue, cloudy sky overhead. I was comfortable, so I laid there for a while and just stared at the shapes overhead. I eventually sat up and realized I had no idea where I was. The sky seemed more natural, the grass more earthen, the birds and bugs happier and energetic, the land less tainted. But that was probably all in my head. Standing up and stretching out in a wide, unnatural stance I glanced around but saw nothing in particular I liked. I closed my eyes to succumb to the black, voluntarily this time, and spun around a bit. I let my head drop down and when I reopened my eyes I saw only grass and dirt again. There was a caterpillar on my boot. I watched it as I stomped down the path. It was green, purple, and unmoving. One of my own. I loved it. We could get lost together. So we did.
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