Do You Believe?
BY MELISSA JORDAN
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Melissa Jordan (PhD) keeps two feet firmly planted in science and academia, while her consciousness escapes to other realms. She is a prolific academician with two(!) doctoral and two master’s degrees, all in the fields of Education, Health Science and Health Care Management. She is a university professor who writes for numerous academic journals and has contributed to several textbooks.
In addition, Dr. Jordan has presented her research studies in topics such as Quality Management, Organizational Behavior and Leadership Issues at several major conferences. Presentation sites include the Southeast Case Research Annual Conference (SECRA), Eastern Academy of Management (EAM), the Southern Management Association (SMA) and others.
None of that has stymied her imagination. In her upcoming novel, Do You Believe? Melissa takes us on a fantastical journey with the inner child of a woman struggling to transcend the multiple traumas of her early years. The little girl finds herself facing out-of-this-world creatures, environments and circumstances, all conspiring to move her closer and closer to healing and self-realization. Traveling with her, we too are moved to re-examine our past and find new meaning in the symbolic landscapes and architecture that surrounds us.
Do You Believe? captures Dr. Jordan’s irrepressible sense of possibility, a dimension where both the author and the character dwell. She says, “We all have the ability to go so much further. The universe is there for the taking.” Author Melissa Jordan hails from Sasser, Georgia, where she enjoys running, community service, writing and spending time with her husband, two sons and first amazing granddaughter. She is also a proud member of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority Incorporated.
COPYRIGHT 2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
An Excerpt From the Unpublished Manuscript
THE IGNITION OF COGNITION
I’m in my car cursing, shaking, trembling and hysterical. I repeatedly recite the Bible verse, “A time to kill.” All the while, I’m wondering, “How on Earth did I get into this situation?” Like numerous times before, I question, “Is it just me?” Maybe I’m the one with the problem. Maybe I am the one being difficult and stubborn. Somehow, I always came to the same conclusion … it is not me.
So, why am I willing to leave it all behind? All my life, no one has cared about my opinion. No one has cared about my concerns. No one has cared whether I lived or died. I always tried to make any situation better, because I knew that I had to be responsible. I did not have anyone to fall back on, so I made sure to become an over achiever. I never would have thought my determination would also be my downfall.
The cold feelings of being rejected, unloved and abused are always so close in my memory. These are words that never should be used to describe one’s childhood, but they were perfect synonyms for mine. Although I was small, I knew I had seen too much. Everyone who I thought cared about me was constantly leaving me and letting me down. Sitting in the car, I felt now was the time to do something about it.
I remember at one point in my childhood, I did find enough strength to leave the nightmare I was living. I waited for everyone to go to bed, and at the right moment on a rainy night, I gathered my little trash bag and took a step to strike out on my own. “Anywhere else has to better than here,” I thought.
As quietly as I could, I crept down the hall toward the front door. My heart was beating loud as a drum, but I knew I could not back out now. I had rehearsed this scene in my mind a hundred times, so I had no idea that my plan was about to be spoiled. Walking on the balls of my feet, trying to be as quiet as a mouse, I turned the doorknob to walk out onto the porch. I was as careful and strong as I could be, but I was no match for our heavy front door. Praying and pulling at the same time, I finally got the antique wooden door to open.
I must have been overly excited that I was on my way to freedom. As I let the screen door go, it slammed against the house so hard, it made me jump. Instead of just taking off, that bastard named fear had grabbed me by the throat and I was just standing there, wondering whether I should go back in. That question was quickly answered as my father came out of his bedroom with a stick in one hand and a flashlight in the other.
He looked at me with rage-filled eyes and asked me, “Where in the hell do you think you’re going?” all the while tightening his grip on the stick. My eyes were bucked, and I swallowed hard as I tried to figure out whether I should say something or just run. Hell, I already had the front door open, so I had accomplished half the battle. I felt sweat dripping from my temples and tried to speak, but realized I was holding my breath and sucked in a big gulp of air instead.
“ANSWER ME!” my father yelled, as he began to slowly walk towards me. At that moment, I knew I was in real trouble, because now he was close enough to catch me even if I did decide to run. I see the stick in his hands begin to twirl and I do not question what is going to happen next. I already know, and just thinking about the beating I’m going to get makes my knees buckle.
I’m thinking, “GOD, I need a miracle right now,” and believe it or not, that is what He sends me. My father is loosening up his arm muscles, while I’m waiting to get the beating of my life. Just then, my big sister walks to the porch from being out at her high school prom. She comes in waving bye to her boyfriend and stops abruptly as she sees my father with the stick in hand and me standing there outside the front door. Her eyes go towards me for a sign, and she spots the bag with my little belongings on the floor behind the door.
My father has not seen the bag, because I put it behind the big wooden door when I was trying to open it, but my sister sees it. She looks at the stick in my father’s hand and puts two and two together. “Little sister, you’re going to catch a cold standing in the front door!” I look down at myself. I was in such a rush to leave, I still had on my pajamas. “Thanks for opening the door for me.” As she bends down to give me a kiss on the cheek, she turns around to close the door and quickly kicks my bag out of sight. She begins to describe, with great animation, the wonderful time she had at her prom. She gaily demonstrates how they danced, grabbing me as her partner and showing my father how to do the bump. My father looks down at me. By now, I am limp as a noodle, while my sister throws me around like a rag doll.
My father yells at both of us to take our asses to bed and stop making so much noise. He barks, “I have to go to work in the morning, I have damn bills to pay!”
“Okay Daddy, good night!” my big sister the actress says. She patiently waits for our father to leave the room as he slams the door behind him. My sister takes one look at me, shakes her head in disgust and tells me bluntly to “take my black ass to bed.” Not willing to push my luck any further tonight, I do just that …
In later years, I often wondered would there ever be a time when I could just let go and allow someone else to take charge. To look at me, no one would ever guess the volcano of emotions that slowly bubbles within. No matter how I try to avoid trouble, it somehow remembers my address. I mean, I did everything I was supposed to do in life! I went to school, got a great job, got married and had children, so where did I go wrong? I know I made some sort of mistake … okay, several mistakes! But I learned from them, and I have tried to put them to good use.
My mama often said, “Daughter, don’t ever let your looks go by the wayside. You should always wear makeup around him! Men are so petty, even if you must sleep in your make up, do it! You can always wake up in the middle of the night to wash it off, but remember to wake up before him to put it back on. Don’t let him use this as an excuse to leave you!” I could not understand why my mama wore so much make-up. To me, she was so beautiful without it.
I made sure all my life to maintain my petite 5’2 frame of 130 pounds. Even after I had two children—which required two C-Sections, and I almost died on the table—I maintained my figure by working out constantly. Whatever I could not fix on my own, I turned to plastic surgery for the solution.
My aunties would tell me when I was a child, “Make sho you keep yo nappy head done! Any man dat see dis will sho leave you!” So, I spend hundreds on top of hundreds keeping my hair manageable and in place. A soft gentle breeze would make my curly hair bounce in the wind as it caressed my face, and I was proud of it.
Remembering all this as I sit trembling in the car, I lean forward and look over the hill that I believe would be a good place to drive my over. At the same time, I try not to talk myself out of ending my life. Somehow, my children find their way across my mind, and I realize that not even this can stop me from wanting to kill myself. To be honest, I feel like my children do not even appreciate me.
I always wanted the best for my children. I wanted to give them the childhood I never had, that I always dreamed of having. I made sure this was possible by going to college to receive, not one degree, but seven. I wanted to make sure that if I ever needed a job, I would have just about any degree required. I sacrificed my adult life for my children. I also instilled in my children that education is the only way to true freedom. All that seemed to truly backfire on me.
One of my boys rebelled against me. They both moaned and groaned, from the time they were pre-pubescent to young adults. “Mom!” they moaned, “Why do I have to read? No one else I know has to read books over the summer!” “Mom! Do you know how difficult it is to be your child? Why do we have to pay for what YOUR family did to you? Please don’t blame us for your miserable childhood!”
As I drive toward the hill, my eyes are beyond swollen from crying. They look like they’ve been stung by yellow jackets. I pull down the mirror on the visor and try to find some tissue to dab at my eyes. At that moment, the image of myself made a chill run down my spine. I looked into the eyes of a child I continuously try to forget. “Two big moons on a cold damp foggy night,” I say to myself. This is what my grandmother would say to me every time I looked at her.
“Can’t you close those ‘big ol eyes?!’ she would yell. This would always leave me in tears, as I wondered how on Earth I would be able to see if I closed my eyes. Everyone would make fun of me, because I have the type of eyes that somehow ‘buck’ out all on their own. “Moon eyes, moon eyes, moon eyes!” the neighborhood children would tease. I slam the mirror down, the memory of those insults still stinging. To this day, I have problems looking people in the eye, as I try to avoid any haunting intimidating remarks.
Who would have ever thought that these “big ol’ eyes” were the first thing that my husband said attracted him to me. He says he was hypnotized by them; he loved to stare deep into them and try to see my soul. So he said. When we decided to get married, I can’t tell you how happy I was! Standing before God and family members, we proclaimed our love to each other, promised to be together through sickness and health and till death do us part. Sigh …
He still cheated on me. I always knew that beauty was not enough to keep a man. And what good were a whole bunch of college degrees if you did not have the job to back them up? I made sure I did. I wanted to show any man that I was good marrying material. I climbed the career ladder with a vengeance and a quickness. I was always ambitious, and I knew that if I never wanted to depend on anyone, I would have to have a job that would allow this. I spent long hours at work, learning the skills and techniques that would qualify me to be successful.
Growing up, I had no role model. As an adult, I found that many women are not willing to reveal to another woman their secrets about how they got to the top. This only added the fuel I needed to prove to myself and my children that anything is possible. Within five years, I went from lower-level employee to upper management, with my own assistant and office on the top floor, supervising 30 employees. Life was good! Or so I thought.
Have you ever been in the situation where you knew that, even though everything was going right, you could not help but expect something terribly wrong to happen? I thought I was happy; I mean, I had a great job, a beautiful home, two wonderful boys who never really gave me any problems. And the greatest gift of all, a caring, loving, husband of 16 years. I believed I was living the American dream.
So, what part of the American dream has a person willing to drive off a cliff in hopes that the explosion is so severe no one will be able to identify their remains? For me, the shit hit the fan when I could not allow my ears to hear another complaint coming from the people for whom I sacrificed so much in order for them to have good lives.
I can tolerate problems on the job. This is to be expected. Usually, workplace problems have to do with communication. I’ve always been the type of manager that gives employees plenty of information and opportunity to assist with advancement. My problems have always been with female employees. They complained a lot about me, but it was not about my management. Their complaints were always to each other about me sitting on my high horse and “forgetting” about where I come from. Oh, I know where I come from! I just try not to go back there ever again! My employees do not understand why I am willing to work so hard to get what I want, and I expect nothing less of them. That is when they throw up in my face that I’m trying to be like one of “them.” My thinking is, “How ignorant can you people get!”
I promised myself at ten years old that my home would be filled with love. My children will not know the chaos I was raised in, and harmony would be an everyday event. If there was a problem in my home, I always made a point with my children and husband to hold a family meeting so we can talk about it. My children hated this, but I knew this would come in handy for them with their families when they became young men. I would stress, “Always talk to your wives and children when there is a problem, no matter how simple you think it may be! This way, there will be no room for doubt and communication will not be the issue!”
Little did I know that this golden family rule would slowly disappear from my household. I always thought home was supposed to be a place of tranquility, a place to find peace. After a hard day of work, I have always looked forward to going home. Growing up, I never enjoyed this feeling. As a child, I never really knew what a home was, and if the place I was brought up in was home, then home was the last place I wanted to be.
Wiping my eyes, I reflect on why my husband has just admitted to me that he has been having a sexual relationship with another woman and he wants a divorce. Insecurities from my childhood come rushing back as I try to make sense of the situation. “What could I have done differently?”
He goes on to tell me she is 21 years old (mind you, he is 45 and our oldest son is 20), some female he met pumping gas at the station where she worked as a cashier. Between sobs I ask, “How the hell could you!” He politely tells me that she completes him, she tells him things that I don’t tell him and she does things that I stopped doing, sexually.
Here it is again. I never had the opportunity to be missed. No one was ever really looking for me, and if they were, it was probable because they needed me to do something for them. It was never out of love or concern. I have been a human footstool, made to support the burdens of everyone else. How many times must I put my feelings to the side for everyone else’s?
The lessons that I had to learn in life have been severe. It’s not that I’m trying to be a cry baby, I understand that others have gone through the same issues, but I must question why these things have to happen to any of us? You can go out of your way to help people, and be given nothing in return. Not that I’ve asked for anything. I didn’t even expect anything. I have helped others all my life, not expecting a reward or a medal. I guess what I did expect was acknowledgement, maybe even a simple, “Thank you.”
I look down at my hand, still on the steering wheel, and think, “Where do I go from here?” I jump out of the car and walk to nowhere in particular, thinking of everything I’m so anxious to leave behind. “Un-fucking-believable,” I say to myself. How do I begin to trust? How do I stay diligent in a world that turns a deaf ear to anything moral? Most of all, how do I begin, when all I see is the end? Tears sting my eyes as I refuse to cry. I’m tired of crying.
I have awakened to mornings with feelings of paranoia and said goodnight to a consciousness labeled schizophrenia. For me, these were reactions to life. I knew I could choose differently, though not everyone can make that choice. I have always felt like I needed to get out of the bed running. “Running to where?” I ask. I don’t know. But when life has been as difficult as it has for me, you really don’t need a reason to run, all you need is a head start. I have always known that there were abundant possibilities out there. Maybe I just went about them the wrong way. I knew for sure that where I was at that point in my life was not where I wanted to be. On top of that, I knew that if a change was going to happen, I was the one responsible for it.
So, I take off running. But there is one problem. I’m not running off the cliff. I’m not even running in the direction of what I called home. I don’t know where to go for help, so I run away to a street called anywhere in the city called nowhere. Again, I’m thinking, “Anywhere is better than here.” I pick up the pace, accelerating into a swift sprint.
Thinking about all the blessing I wanted, but all the blessings I’ve cast away. Thinking of all the people whose pain I’ve eased, and all the people who have hurt me in my life. Thinking of all the days and nights I have spent crying with no one there to wipe my tears. Thinking of all the people who did not have time to listen to my problems. Thinking of all the times I said, “Yes,” and all the time others told me, “No.” Thinking of all the people who turned a deaf ear, turned a blind eye, and told a hopeful child that there was no such thing as hope.
Thinking of the people who laughed at me every time I spoke a word. Thinking of all the times I looked in the mirror because others said there was something wrong with me. Thinking of all the times I was alone, while surrounded by others. Thinking of all the times I screamed for help, but no one ever came to my rescue. Thinking of all the times I just knew it would get better, but it never did. Thinking of all the times I prayed for an end, but it was always the beginning of chaos. Thinking of all the times I wanted to put my memories to sleep and held on to the gun no one knew I kept.
Thinking of all the times I was told about death, but no one told me about everlasting life. Thinking of all the children that are going through right now what I went through, but no one hears their screams and I wonder why I can. Thinking of how to make this a better world for children whose aspirations, hope and faith have been stolen by the adults around them through verbal, emotional and sexual abuse.
Thinking of how I can make a change, when even I don’t believe that I can or will. Thinking, is there life after death, or is there death while living? Thinking, how I can live my life, when all I think about is death? Thinking, can I maintain my mental stability when every step I take is shaky? Thinking about how I have come so close to blowing up, but instead, chose to save the ticking time bomb for later. Thinking of doing something that will land me in prison for life when I’m already in a life prison. Thinking of taking drugs to put me out of my mind, and realizing the relief is only temporary.
Thinking, how I can crawl back into the womb to start all over, when there are no second chances? Thinking that there is someone out there who can love me, even when I don’t even love myself. Thinking that someone could be wondering what I was doing at this very moment, wondering what they would think if they knew I couldn’t think of myself without crying.
Thinking, how can I stop myself from thinking, knowing that when I do, everything I represent will cease to exist? Thinking about how you wish someone would say your name, but no one ever does. Thinking of being chased and taking off running, but looking behind to see that no one is there, but secretly, wishing someone was there.
Thinking of all the times loneliness was a long-time companion, and misery was an occasionally friend. Thinking of how good it would feel if someone would touch my spirit, even though they say I have a heart of steel. Thinking of how I wish someone would look inside my soul and see my pain, but wondering how they can see, when I’ve become invisible.
I am running, running like a slave seeking freedom. I am seeking separation from the pain of my past, present and future. Running from the demons that have chased me all my life, running from failure, disappointments and let downs. Sprinting at top speed, just to get to a place called nowhere. Sweat dripping down my forehead, stinging my eyes. Huffing and puffing as though my life will stop if I don’t keep moving.
I didn’t even see the huge rock in my path. As I trip and fall to the ground, rolling on my right arm, I hear a loud crack and land flat on my back. I scream out in pain, realizing I may have broken my arm. I roll back and forth on the ground, hoping the pain will stop. I believe that at this very moment, someone is laughing at me.
I lie on my back and look into the bright sky. I see a flock of colorful birds, and I wish that I, too, could take wings and fly. If only I could fly away and never be heard from again, I would never have to deal with any of this bullshit in my life! Closing my eyes, drifting into the deepest sleep, I pray to the Lord, my soul to keep … In my mind, I hear someone or something whisper:
Unbreakable promises that were found to be broken, feelings as fragile as glass.
Sentiments of an eternal love, until eternity, you thought would last.
Wishing, hoping, dreaming and wanting, all your life you have desired.
Hoping one day to leave it all, to have wings, is what you require.
Looking to the heavens for guidance, searching the sky and seeking a sign.
Huffing and puffing, and running top speed, sanity and contentment you try to align.
All the while, hoping you will remain invisible, hoping you could just disappear.
Wishing you could continue transparency; a troubled and burdened soul shown clear.
Spending all your life running to nowhere in particular,
You are exhausted from the chase.
Looking behind you and seeing that no one is there, all by yourself in the race.
You question, “At what point do I stop running and when will I be able to rest?”
You may not want to hear this answer, but it’s when you realize it’s a test.
You are seeking answers we cannot provide;
You hold the key to all that is locked.
Avoidance is not the solution; you have the ability to open what is blocked.
Reflection should not hinder advancement; there is a purpose for this type of action.
To wonder is intended for comprehension,
To question ‘why’ should not be the distraction.
Always, forever and endless is our love.
Everything you see represents our passion for you.
To catch every tear before it falls from your eyes is what we were born to do.
We are attentive to your needs, we can see your soul and we feel your pain.
If you fall, we will catch you, if you choose to stay, then with you, we shall remain.
Fragility and disturbance are the name of your house, a liquid floor is where you stand.
A concrete that will not set or harden, stability is what you must demand.
A house of cards is your emotions, wavering, delicate and precariously unsteady.
Life comes with no instructions, no guarantees, nothing prepares you to be ready!
Unpreparedness follows disaster, an unnecessary misfortune is sure to come.
With all your insides out on the floor, lies the complexity of your emotions, undone.
Loneliness has you overwhelmed, with feelings of desperation and uselessness.
We beg of you, don’t give up! In your future, there is no hopelessness!
How do you not sink into quicksand,
When the ground will not support the weight of your problems?
Not understanding the urgency of where you stand,
Not understanding how to solve them.
Carefully adding more weight to the body,
Cautiously stepping on the floor, to be broken.
Tiptoeing around disaster, disregarding the warnings that were spoken.
You must build a bridge; find support to walk on a durable foundation.
We encourage you, do not mentally lose focus, or give up, saying, “My life is too hard.”
Be warned of your life being unsteady, unstable, falling like a house of cards.
You‘ve been broken into one million pieces from disappointments,
Followed by let downs.
But understand: there has always been hope for you,
For all that you believe was lost is actually found!
With the issues that show you worry, only fix what you can change.
All the other problems in your life together, you will learn to re-arrange.
You only have one life to live, don’t let it waste away!
And remember, don’t forget, you must live only for today!
Just repeat these words all through the day, and especially all through the night:
Lord help me to hold on! Lord help me win this fight!
Jesus, I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.
I’ll never forget how you set me free.
How can I forget how you brought me out? How can I forget?
Your love I will never doubt!
Your inner beauty is something all should search for, near and far.
Nothing feels as good as understanding just how beautiful you are!
How do you not sink into quicksand,
When the ground will not support the weight of your problems?
By understanding who you are and the power within your grasp.
That is the answer on how to solve them!
NOTHING BUT AIR
I hear words, voices, people. Confused and dazed, I wake up questioning where I am. Home is a distant memory, difficult to grasp. The only thing I can fully remember is feeling like I was ready to die, being so tired of life that I just could not take it anymore.
Lost and all alone, I find myself surrounded by forest. The bush is thick, and sunlight has no place here. I look around and recognize nothing. All I hear are sounds of the unfamiliar, like tree limbs breaking and the calls of strange animals. I cry a river of tears, knowing there is no way anyone can find me. Walking a trail that seems to last a lifetime, I’m feeling—but not remembering—all the events I left behind. As I walk down a trail in my forest, I’m thinking, “How did I get myself in this situation in the first place?” I awoke to a world that is brand new, with a heavy burden weighing down my soul. I try desperately to find my way out of this unfamiliar space.
Somehow, I have wished myself into a world without humans. I haven’t seen anyone since I arrived. Maybe I will remain here until the end of time. As I walk, my memories form more vividly. I recall that asked the heavens my purpose for living. I feel that I come from a world where material objects reign supreme, love doesn’t exist and if you are humble, you are punished for not fighting. It seems that if one is to survive on planet Earth, you must become a liar, a thief, egotistical, a fool. I don’t believe I can live feeling like that anymore.
Memories begin to fall into my mind like the leaves all around me. I remember failing my nursing classes after being pushed into nursing school by my mother against my desire … getting married to the first man who paid attention to me, who later left me for a younger woman … insults about my charcoal skin, my big eyes, my big teeth, my skinny legs … daydreaming as a child that my knight would rescue me and whisk me away to a world that was created just for us.
He would help me realize that it was okay for me to talk about my feelings, and he would never get bored. He would listen the millionth time, as though he were hearing my stories for the first time. He would tell me he loves my mocha chocolate skin. He would tell me I’m beautiful, that he will never take his eyes off of me and he loves to hear me speak, saying, “You don’t know the power in your voice.”
I remember the adults in my life who chose to believe in the unbelievable, to support the unsupportable and to not speak the unspeakable. Still, I wander on. I wander in worlds that lead to nowhere, like the ancient Israelites, who roamed the deserts for 40 years looking for the Promised Land.
Suddenly, I hear a sound all around me. The ground is cracking like hail falling from the sky. The shattering of the ground swells into an earthquake. As I start to run, looking for a way out of the woods, a magical creature springs out of the Earth like the trunk of a tree. The beast has teeth that resemble the lumber surrounding me, and they branch out into distinct components. The creature towers over me, so high my neck is hurting as I look in awe. Seven horns stick out of his head, and at the tip of each horn shines a bright gold star.
The beast is covered in a thick golden mane with a blinding glow. It is the most beautiful coat I have ever seen. The creature beckons for me to climb up on him. “Grab hold of my locks and don’t look down!” he said. I did as I was ordered and climbed for what seemed to be forever. As I climbed, I became distracted by his beauty. My climb became slow and painful, because every time I became distracted, I would slip back down to the creature’s feet. Finally in focus, I made it to the top, dripping in a sweat that tasted like the sweetest brown sugar.
When I reached the top, I was staring face-to-beast in a bizarre silence. I looked into his eyes and saw something eerily familiar. He spoke with a voice that did not match his appearance. It was the voice of a child, almost a whisper that I had to strain to hear. The creature spoke in a hypnotic foreign tongue. The creature told me that, in order for me to find a way out of this labyrinth, I would have to go on a journey. The adventure would lead me through many emotions, including anger, pain, happiness, joy and sadness.
“Only you know the way out of the confusion, for I am only here as part of a riddle. Everything you see is a clue or a sign. Don’t take one item for granted or you may run out of time. Something you may see as insignificant or small, could be the key to unlock it all! Keep your consciousness clear and your mind set free, because you never know what you may hear or see. Follow through on remembrance and understanding you must not lack. IN ORDER TO GO FORWARD, YOU MUST GO BACK!”
Before I can say, “What the hell?” I tumble backwards and fall hard. I land flat on my back with a thump so severe, the earth cracks beneath me. Dazed and confused, I call for the creature, but there is no answer. “Am I dreaming?” I look around and find myself still stranded in the woods. I look up to the sky for guidance, and to my surprise, the sun has disappeared completely. The bright and sunny day has become a dark, starless, sinister night in a matter of what seemed to be seconds.
Silence fills the air as I cry out, “Where do I begin? When will it end?” The canopy of stars transforms into sprinkling raindrops. As I continue to look into the heavens, I begin to see the raindrops as individuals. One by one, the raindrops began to turn in my direction as they fall from the sky and land on my face. As single beings, they speak in one accord as they crawl into my ears:
Your journey has begun. Please pay attention to what you are about to hear, for clues and symbols are all around. The signals of your worth that you have sought are here now, as always. Your life has been problematic and your heart is in chaos. You must know that we have not forgotten you, or the little girl that is lost.
Can you determine what is right or what is wrong, what is fact or fiction? You may or may not be guided by your reserves or by your addictions. We have heard your passions, your desires and your temptations. But you have chosen not to hear us, so we are providing you with revelations.
We will be with you on your adventure just like we have always been. Pay attention We are swirling around your ears and face because this is what you show society. However, you must be discreet and secretive, especially with your anxieties. There are millions of us falling from a source that represents all emotion. Remember, you are never alone, you have our utmost devotion.
Can you tell us who we are, for we have tried to be clear, can you tell us who we are, can you tell us, my dear?
At that very moment, my mouth opens automatically, as the raindrops come out of my ears and line up in single file formation. Like toy soldiers marching off to battle, one-by-one they kiss my lips, then advance to the inside of my cheeks and down my throat. First, each raindrop is so sweet, they tasted like a rare African honey. But as the raindrops began to travel at a fast pace down my throat, each one transforms from sweet to bitter.
I look down at my belly, now bloated with fluid. Instinctively, I swallow the liquid pooling in my mouth. I force the last raindrop down, the aroma of sour stomach acid making me sick. My belly is swollen, my ribs stretched to capacity and my mouth dripping with juices. The nausea is intense, making me feel like I’m about to heave. Leaning over with my belly about to burst, I put my finger to the back of my throat and up comes an explosion of NOTHING BUT AIR.
DO YOU BELIEVE?
Holding my body, which was shaking uncontrollably, I reach out to touch what I see in front of me. The air I regurgitated has become a bubble floating in front of me. Still embracing myself for comfort, I watch as the bubble studies my stature as though it is sizing me up. It drifts closer and closer to me until we are almost touching.
As I gaze upon this angelic substance, the bodiless formation begins to circle around me. The air revolves around me slowly, then at a rapid pace so fast that the bubble began to suck the living air out of my body. My bloated body becomes thin and emaciated. The powerful suction of the spinning bubble has siphoned all the liquid from my body. I grow weak and faint from dehydration as fatigue and disorientation set in.
The bubble commands me to, “Let go.” I obey, and I faint. As I fall forward, the bubble catches me and I land inside of it. The bubble takes flight and I float for what seems an eternity, realizing I am finally free from my wooded prison. As I look down, there is only water as far as the eye can see. It’s like no water I have ever seen. It is still, motionless and calm, and slick as a sheet of glass.
The bubble tells me to brace myself for what I’m about to witness. He says, “You are about to see the unseen, you are about to hear the unheard and you are about to touch the untouchable. You will never be the same and you will never forget.” The bubble nosedives into the sheet of glass, breaking into a million pieces and accelerating to the bottom of what is now an ocean. I look above my head to see millions of pieces of broken glass transform into letters that read WELCOME HOME. Then the pieces of glass reform into the dense sheet of smooth, level elegance they once were.
I have lost all comprehension of self and location, and I tell my eyes not to play tricks on me, for I have never been able to see what I am seeing right now. Beauty surrounds me under the water. Animals never seen by the human eyes encircle my craft and I wonder how odd I must look to them. Creatures of all shapes and sizes, all colors and patterns are staring at me in awe, and I reach out of my bubble just to see if I can feel the magnificence they seem to exude. I’m able to see microscopic organisms, usually invisible to the naked eye. I hold out a finger, as these tiny life forms swim in my direction. They pool on the tip of my finger and swim in my fingernail. As I watch them, I wonder if they can think, feel, see or touch. To me, they seem incapable of such awareness, and I wish I were as lucky as them.
In my mind, I hear, “Do not underestimate the magnitude of our mentality, for we may not be human, but we understand your reality. We live here in a world that you cannot invade, so do not think you’ve entered our world by chance. There is something which must be understood, we are only here to enhance.”
Astonished, I realize that the microorganisms can read my mind! And even more shocking, I can read theirs. “Do you think you are the only one that seeks answers at the end? Do you think this is a game, that you are only the one trying to win? What do we have to do to show you your specialness? It is time to think about only one thing, and that is the importance of the ME.
You are forgetting to heed the warnings that we gave to you from the beginning. Never forget about forgetting—that could mean a dreadful ending. So, you envy a mindless lifeless form, incapable of cognition or thought, and here you are looking to us for all the answers you have sought. Well okay then, since you hold our meaningless lives at the end of your fingertip, we have chosen to help the beautiful you on this most mysterious trip.
Close your eyes and relax. Allow your mind to roam free. Do you remember when you were safe, do you remember how it used to be? Do you remember when love was all around you, so soft, so gentle, so secure? Do you remember the sounds and smells, or is it just a blur? You used to believe this is such a soft place, the softest place in the world. A place created by love, for such a special little girl. So just calm yourself and rest, my child, for you have a long journey ahead. We have analyzed your memory and have heard everything you said. We only want what is best for you, and we will provide you with everything you need. We have only one question left. We want to know, DO YOU BELIEVE?”
I am mesmerized, immersed in the feeling of love. My mind drifts to a moment when the only thing that mattered was me. I’m remembering a time when I did know the feeling of safety and security. At that time, there was darkness all around me, but I was never afraid. A voice of reassurance and tranquility spoke to me. Always, a rhythmic, hypnotizing sound accompanied the voice. The sound allowed me to be at peace. What was it? A beep? A bang? Was it a knock? No … maybe it was a thump … yes, I recall a thump … thump thump … thump thump … thump thump. Suddenly, my safe air bubble rolls like thunder! Once full of air, the bubble is now slowly taking on water! I’m starting to wonder how long I can hold my breath.
I look at my fingertips and find my little friends are gone. I scream for help in my mind, hoping they will hear me. Instead, I hear the rhythmic thumping noise sounding loudly, and it all starts to make sense to me. As the water rushes in, I realize that my talking air bubble and the microorganisms have left me. I am now on my own. I take in one last big breath an go under, as the water covers my nose. Holding my breath, I can still hear the thumping. It sounds astonishingly familiar now.
It’s a heartbeat, and the voice of assurance was my beautiful mother’s voice. The safe and secure environment was my mother’s womb. I am about to be born. No, reborn! My bubble feels like it’s going to implode. I can’t hold my breath much longer. My lungs are about to burst. The bubble begins to shrink, and the space is now tight. My arms thrash above my head and I kick my legs as I look for a way out.
Knowing I have no air left in my lungs, I open my mouth anyway to see if I can shout. Thankfully, words emerge. “I must be reborn, I must be born again!”
On command and like magic, the bubble pops. The water breaks. The volatile rush of waves pushes me to the surface of the water, and I gasp for the life-giving air that is now all around me. Like a newborn baby, I scream, I cry. As I splash in the receding ocean tide, with tears in my eyes, words explode in my mind: YES, I DO BELIEVE! I MUST BE BORN AGAIN!
COPYRIGHT 2023 BY MELISSA JORDAN
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.