The unmapped beyond
I live on a continent that was once an unexplored wilderness not all that long ago. Men loaded wagons and headed west for the sheer thrill of knowing what was on the other side of that river or just beyond those mountains, willing to risk the dangers of the unknown in order to feed a raging case of wanderlust and curiosity.
For every person who pushed westward into adventure, thousands more stayed planted where they were, with no interest in exploring the world beyond the edge of their town.
I can’t really blame them. I’m not sure I would have relished the idea of bumping across the western states in the back of a wagon, either.
I understand the insatiable desire to see the unseen, to experience the reality beyond the veil that few believe is possible and fewer still will pursue.
There is that voice that whispers that there is more, and my heart turns its ears to hear the reverberation. More. Beyond what I know. Beyond what I’ve experienced. Beyond the world of time and matter, where life and reality do not depend upon science.
I am convinced of the reality of that realm. There really is something on the other side of that river and beyond those mountains. I’ve caught glimpses and heard whispers; I’ve seen the fingerprints lingering in my earthbound existence. I’ve closed my eyes and stepped into dreams that were more real than my waking hours.
It all only serves to increase my hunger for the more, illusive and ethereal as it may seem at times.
I refuse to believe it’s impossible, or that it’s too much for a human to take hold of.
After all, the Infinite lives inside me.