The Journey

Author's note: This was written as an allegory, a picture of what it is like to be a survivor in the uncaring dark swamps of life... the members of the online support group often referred to the group environment as the "Valley of Recovery" or simply, "The Valley"... and chose for themselves names... Triceratops, Heather, Razorcat...

What I myself didn't see - then - is that my own Journey of Recovery had finally begun... and I had no hints, no idea of the incredible life change to come....

The Journey

Some, sadly, turn and prey on their own kind; their fear and terror turning inwards... a self-consuming hunger echoing down the dusty corridors of time...

Lurking elsewhere lie other predators, sniffing the rancid air, patiently studying their prey... preying on predator and prey alike... methodically seeking,finding, and soulessly consuming the hopeless prey...

Timeless and ageless, the cycle continues... cold emotionless minds seek heat and warmth not their own... all too aware of their own ability to overwhelm... twisted minds all too aware of the innocence of their prey... minds cold and terrifyingly calculating, knowing all too well how to manipulate their prey into ultimate surrender...

Some of the innocent ones wonder if life is just the swamp... wonder if somewhere exists a different world... and in their wondering, they become more perceptive... and hear a faint haunting sound far in the distance...

Carefully, quietly, some venture forth... darting quickly from cover to cover... following the haunting music muffled by the dank heavy air... Tentative, frightened, shivering, the innocent ones, the injured ones make their way... and some discover others of their own kind, and fearfully reach out... finding mutual needs, mutual hungers, mutual help... and they journey on together...

Some, sadly, despair of finding the source of the haunting melody, and turn back, surrendering to the bleakness of the swamp, surrendering to the horrendous hungers and horrors of the predators... and those trying to find the source reach out, grieving, hoping... only to watch with tears in their hearts as the swamp reclaims the lost ones...

...struggling against fearsome odds, the tiny creatures follow the music, the haunting, ephemeral music that comes from beyond the swamp... Many are injured in the journey, many despair, yet keep going, for they know deep within that what lies ahead cannot be any worse than that which lies behind...

...and they are horrified... for ahead lies a bleak wintry wasteland, snow piling in drifts across stony ridges; a biting cutting wind piercing them, chilling them to the bone and beyond... ...and they wonder, questioning their decision to follow the haunting music, the haunting sweet music that hints of sun and flowers... ...that hints of meadows and trees, of a sun-warmed forest...

They look behind them, hearing the ominous rustling of the predators deep within the swamp... and they turn and look at the wind-swept snow...

...and some struggle out into the wasteland... huddling against the cold, heads down against the numbing wind, one step after another under the ebony sky and steel stars....

Ridge after ridge is crossed... and their minds become quiet, still, no longer considering the journey... simply moving, struggling away from the swamp... each step further from the horrors that lie behind... ...minds and hearts, their very souls and beings sinking into piercing despair, a despair so vast that the numbness of their souls is greater than the numbness of the chilling winds... And they struggle on, mile after mile, day after day...

And then.... footprints... footprints never before seen lie before them, clearly outlined in the starlight, footprints that have already gone before them... and they wonder... for intermingled are prints of many kinds... some human, some animal; some herbivore, some predator.. yet no signs of conflict are revealed by the drifts...

And they notice too that the music is clearer, stronger, closer... and a soft wondrous glow emanates from beyond the next ridge... the same ridge from whence comes the music...

...and they reach the ridge, and carefully look over the top... and their eyes widen in wonder and fill with tears...

One... by one... they crawl, hurting, injured over the final rocks; carefully picking their way down the hill... reaching out to feel the deep grass underfoot... to smell the multicolored flowers... to wonder at the deep blue sky where only moments before was deep night and howling snow-filled winds... and their eyes widen at the panorama before them... A deep sun-warmed valley of meadows and streams and an ancient majestic forest of evergreens and hardwoods... ...and the music, the soft, gentle music emanates from the very valley...

They stop - suddenly, fearfully - for in the meadows, streams, and forests are others... others as like themselves, and others of fearful form... forms all too familiar to them... predator forms... ...some human, some animal, some other-than-animal, and some other-than-human... and they tremble, despairing...

For over in the pond beneath a Rainbowed waterfall near a smiling Lighthouse and a Sharp-furred Cat plays a multi-hued Triceratops, covered with laughing, quacking ducklings... and a Sapphire Gazelle leaping from the soft banks to the stones and into the water, merrily splashing the wondrous dinosaur... and a graceful Swan, and a beautiful wild duck who gently swims and chuckles, chortling at a secret knowledge of birth days and special days... and a Carp and a Squid suddenly splash through the surface, leaping and playing in sheer delight of life...

...on the banks lies three fearsome beings... a Silver Tiger and a White Tiger and a Bengal Tyger... yet there, playing on the felines is a Mouse and a horde of Mouses... and a Manx cat and hordes of little cats... all giggling and laughing and playing together... and some of the cats race wildly towards a graying giraffe, climbing rapidly to sit betwixt the giraffe's ears and gaze lovingly into his wise eyes... and another mouse sits cuddled on the wizened giraffe's shoulder, safe, eyes closed peacefully, listening to the gentle song of the tall one... Near the giraffe, sitting close to his feet, rests a delicate and special young lady, a jester by her appearance in multi-colored clothes...

...and from deep within the forest emerges a Lady, fresh from caring for her gardens around her quiet cottage; chuckling at the play of the distant wolf pack and looking fondly at the old grey one; seeking those in the valley who need solace; laughing at the antics of a wild Pony, reaching out to heal the hurts of a delicate and beautiful Weeping Willow...

...and bears emerge from several parts of the woods, a WinnieBear and a Little Bear and a BooBear and a SpecialBear... smiling at the dinosaur and pony, waving gently to all, joining the group of Littles perched at the feet of a story-telling Bunny who sits in the midst of mounds of wonderful books, resting in the shade of a graceful Elm and evergreen Tall Tree... nearby a a deep black velvet Orchid and a Wild Flower sway gently and gracefully by a Heather-covered bank in the shade of a Woodbine; listening and singing with the music of the valley next to a gently glowing and warmth-giving Embers...

Overhead fly others, a majestic Eagle and an ebony Raven, an iridescent blackbird and a shimmering silver leaf and a sparkling star, a soft fuzzy honeybee and a Wind from the Stars, an angel colored with the night sky and an Emerald Phoenix, a Firebird and two delicate and beautiful butterflies, two soft and glowing moons, a Griffin and a wondrous angel of many forms... all performing a wondrous ballet in the sky, swooping down to join with The Dancer in graceful beautiful choreography with a living Blizzard that is gentle and warm...

...and mingling among them, further wonders... several humans... and not- so humans... an elven lady with a sparkling wondrous sword strolls side by side with a deep green and beautiful Ivy plant... A rolling talking stone slows to a stop on a ledge next to a musician, turns, and reveals the incredible and wondrous soulgems contained within and shared with all that play healing multi-hued light over the denizens of the valley... a Walker moves from one to another, sharing and speaking softly...

Racing into the clearing sweep several Wolven forms... one sparkling with ice from running and playing in the outer storms; one glowing with the warmth of the outback; a fluffy wolf cub yipping and pouncing with glee and a graceful and young female smiling deeply; two grinning and mischievous Coyotes; and an old grey grizzled wolf... and the denizens smile softly at the pack antics as a free-for-all furball forms... wolves are pounced on and pounce in return... the old grey wolf breaks free for but a moment, races up a path side by side with the silver tiger, turns... tackle-hugs the pony, and races downhill past the giraffe... disappearing momentarily behind the tall one... emerging with a growling and grinning tyger cub firmly clamped onto his tail... and the old wolf and tall one smile gently into each others eyes...

One of the travel-weary and battered beings steps cautiously forward, fearful yet hopeful, trembling... and calls out a soft ``hello'', ready to run, to hide...

...and the denizens of the valley look up and see the newcomers, the tired and battered ones who emerged from the swamp... and they softly and gently approach, tears of compassion and care in their eyes... quietly, the valley denizens stop a few feet away, leaving the journeyers room to flee if needed...