We went up onto the hill. I always felt that it was alive, that we were
walking carefully, tenderly, upon a living being. And we were. We were
not only aware of it, but glorying in it, treasuring it, for it made us all
the richer. Our sharing, our experience of this time as all the times
before, was made richer for the knowledge that that upon which we
stood was alive and was not separate from us. We were all one entity,
breathing, fibrous network of amazing complexity, allowing and preserving each
the additional elements which made this an unique occurrence in the
universe and in the dimensions.
We talked quietly of the dimensions, mostly of our ability to percieve them, our imaginations riding the scarcely discerned multiple structures of their further possibilities. It seemed, together, we could go out upon them farther than we could ever suspect when alone.
There were so many possibilities.
We talked of nothing, too, and there were times when we talked not at all but were all the closer for it.
The air shimmered minutely, too quick for sight but not for our
awareness, invigorating rather than vertiginous though it was in its
nature to be both, like a capricious sprite. It was green and gold,
irradiated, lifting up with the light from the grass that bowed and
whispered at our knees. My skirts left a swath, but it was temporary
only. There the blades showed their silvery sides before rising again at
the request of the sweet air. It called them to rise with gentle gesture,
grateful, perhaps, for the sweet scents the verdure offered up freely,
even carelessly, in promiscuity.
I too drew in the scents and relished them. They were all of freshness to me, and freshness was inspiriting, was hopeful, and renewed my courage and my strength. These are the basis of such happiness as I could know. No, it was that which I had chosen. At times it seemed almost more than I could endure, this happiness.
And it had come to me, a gift, a free gift in life.