Copyright 2010 Roberta Osborn. All rights reserved.

Dreams of the Borderland

Certainty

I am walking down a back-country road through the marsh, where I see a small group of old fruit

trees rising out of the wetland. I am curious about this, and look around me. Generations of

beavers have built a mighty dam across the creek, which then widened and spilled out into the

field. This island of gnarled trees is what remains of an orchard that was abandoned long before

the beavers came. Nevertheless, the trees are in magnificent bloom. The loose petals drift freely

with their fragrance in the gentle air, creating a rain of loveliness that drifts across the marsh to

float on the black water amid the reeds, and onto the dirt, sometimes mud, road where I am

honored to walk.

It is early evening

when I reach the river.

I sit down under a

willow tree on a grassy

bank and watch the

natural world begin to

shift from day to night.

A breeze lifts the

willow leaves gently

like a beaded curtain.

A heron glides low

along the water for a

long time. The local

dragonflies stop in

front of me for

inspection, one after

another. I approve

their shining metallic green and blue and red reflections, and they zip away. I breathe deeply to

search the earthy smell of the river for something I cannot name. The water moves slowly, quietly,

powerfully here. It has already been joined by many other streams, and will continue growing

toward the sea some great distance ahead. That it will rejoin the oceans of the world is certain,

regardless of how long it takes, how far it has come. I am not sure that I want to move from this

spot, and I wonder for a moment if I might just stay here forever, but the river moves on, and

eventually, so do I.

I find my way to the cabin just as the sun sets. My friend has already arrived. A low fire is burning

in the fireplace. There is a delicious smelling soup in the kettle. I dump my heavy pack with relief

and join my friend at the table. I consume this unexpected dinner with gusto, without saying

much, and sit back and pat my full belly. We look at each other for a long moment and my friend

says, "So, it's like that, is it?" and either this is very funny, or we are very tired, because we laugh

until tears come to our eyes. Turning in, I drift off to sleep, reveling in the effort of my long hike,

and every so often grinning and giggling again at our sourceless hilarity.

I find myself outside of space and time, in a void that contains everything, in a stillness so

dynamic that I exist in all possible states. I realize that I have forgotten myself only for an instant.

Now, I reside in transparent shells of the loveliest pure blue light. This curved and intersecting

lattice of energy cascades into infinity, radiating from me in every direction, aware of and joining

the energy of others. Together, where we meet, we create a warm, brilliant universe of joy and

recognition.

I hear the cicada's revving up, and I realize that it is morning and open my eyes. The rising sun

streams in the window and brings a golden radiance to everything in the room. The rag rug on the

floor rings out in many colors. The copper kettle on the hearth flashes brilliantly. The table top

glows, warm and solid. The shadows from the wind-blown leaves outside the window wash

everything inside in gentle motion and reveal new sparkling greetings to the sun. I realize that this

radiance is always there. I see it without difficulty when I focus less on where I am, and more on

remembering what I am.