#63: Don't Dally O'er The Valley! (Fulfillment)

So Spend Your Life, Working-Wooing . . .
Amow, Amust, Amate, Amooing . . .
Maybe Just In Your Pursuing,
Your Brain Gets Lost In The Congruing . . .
The Bookie From The Bet.
Or Maybe Life Is Born Of Cooing . . .
TV Guided, Oprah-Spewing,
And Less From Any Sort Of Doing,
Regardless Of The Debt.
Still, The Barbe-Clue's For Chewing,
And What You Think You See Ensuing
May Be All Your Pot's Got Brewing . . .
And After All Your Pain And Pooing . . .
You See Just What You Get.

Jo-Mima lifted another card
that didn't have a word.
A circle cut in the center made
the damn thing look absurd.

Jo asked, as he stuck his fingers through,
"What do you make of this?"
The Wagon fired up and we
were back in the abyss.

This time the weirdest image played
upon our front windshield . . .
a chasm with a rope-like bridge,
connecting empty fields.

The chasm felt enormous, though
the image showed no depth . . .
just a scary sense of bottomless,
where thousands may have leapt.

The Wagon slowed. The picture cleared.
The image then turned real,
and we got out to approach the edge . . .
to see what I could feel.

"I think our hill should be right here,"
I said as Jo came near.
Jo looked a little queasy and
I felt a little queer.

"What's the matter," I asked my friend.
"Are you afraid of height?"
"Bo, it ain't the altitude, man,
but something here ain't right.

There's a canyon here that looks real wide,
and God, who knows, how deep . . .
but there's something else scarier that
might give a man the creeps."

And that is when the stranger's words,
sounding very close,
said, "Go ahead and jump if you
must see how deep it goes."

We both looked 'round at emptiness . . .
and then, to our surprise,
a perfect, filmy man appeared . . .
right before our eyes.

Its eyes were painted open, like
he might really see.
Then all at once his mouth changed shape . . .
he spoke to Jo and me.

"I know it's true, and I've been told
that I look pretty odd.
But there's no mirrors in this place . . .
so I can't see my bod."

"Well, your insides may work fine," I said,
"and it's nothing personal,
but your only problem in my world is
you're two-dimensional."

"Oh yes, I know. Believe you me,
that's no mystery . . .
and I know exactly how I got here,
and what would set me free.

Of course, it's funny, and I would miss,
were I to now advance . . .
the fun of speaking before I'm seen
while strangers mess their pants."

"But are you real? . . . like a human?
And how did you get here?"
"I'm not sure what 'human' is.
I come from planet Zeer.

In case you haven't quite caught on,
whatever State you roam,
no matter the world from whence you came,
this place will look like home."

"So," Jo asked, "this place applies
to a universe of worlds?"
"Of course! It's all on Level 3,
in the Hall of Wisdom's Pearls."

Jo and I then flashed back to
the Voice's condescension . . .
our experience would be limited to
First Level comprehension.

"Forgive me, fellas, you seem real nice . . .
I hate to cut this off,
but my muscles are just paper-thin,
and it's hard for me to talk."

"Oh . . . sorry," Jo said, "you've treated us
very courteously.
Is there any way that we can help
you get, as you say, free?"

"Well, I'm not supposed to tell you, but
I came here just like you,
trying to find out how to fill
some holes in my life, too.

I watched as people took this leap . . .
and likely to their death.
Each time I failed to jump myself,
well . . . less of me was left.

The problem, you see, only later on,
was I to realize,
my courage diminished relative to
my 3rd dimension's size.

I should have figured what it was . . .
that's why they call it, 'guts.'
I never guessed that flat-as-a-board,
though safe, would drive me nuts.

It's not my nerve that makes me speak
to everyone in range . . .
but boredom, greater than one's fear
moves anyone to change!"

As the Zeer then ended his story,
I peeked beyond the ledge.
The sunlight lit the chasm walls,
below a razor's edge.

Jo then pulled the card back out
to find the hole still clear . . .
but this time flipped it 'round to see
a letter printed there.

"Wait," he said, "what's this mean?
An 'M' behind the hole?"
"That's not 'M' . . . it's 'W', Jo . . .
I get it . . . see? It's 'W-hole'."

I took my friend aside to share
a crazy, private plan.
I didn't want to scare the Zeer . . .
clearly a gutless man.

"I've got this crazy feeling, Jo . . .
this ain't about a bridge.
There's something more important to
our stepping past that ridge.

That bridge is new . . . like never walked.
We ought to ask our host . . .
it sags so much, but the middle's flat,
where it should sag the most.

I'm telling you, we've got to jump . . .
and bring the Zeer along.
I'll admit it's just a feeling, but
I feel it pretty strong."

"You're preaching to the choir, Bo.
I'm right behind you, dude!
I told you that this place felt weird,
and it wasn't altitude."

Suffice it to say, we knew we had
little to justify
grabbing the Zeer, and counting down . . .
"3 . . 2 . . 1 . . let's fly!"

There must have been some lapse of time
while we were in the air.
I remember jumping out a bit . . .
to make sure we would clear . . .

the rocky side as we went down.
I thought I'd rather fall
for weeks, and hit the bottom hard,
than bounce along the wall.

But fear can sometimes mess up one's
sense of reality . . .
and I guess there's no assurance of
time and accuracy.

So maybe we fell for seconds, or
for minutes, or a day.
All we knew was it felt more
like passing some doorway.

It was almost like my back foot raised
as the front one lit again.
And there, before us, a garden lay,
where chasm had just been.

I didn't lose my balance, but
just turned around to see
the ledge that we'd just leapt off of
right in back of me.

The Zeer had fallen forward.
He rose up to his feet.
He stood, and started swelling up,
becoming quite replete.

His swelling left him most rotund . . .
perhaps in need of diet.
He'd always had the girth to leap,
but just no guts to try it.

He walked away, still thanking us
for all our understanding,
while Jo and I surveyed the world
from that garden landing.

The rope bridge, tied to columns, dropped
a couple of feet or more,
but quickly flattened out to lie
across the garden floor.

"There is no question in my mind,"
Jo-Mima volunteered,
"we jumped from that side over there,
but now it's disappeared.

We've stumbled just a step or two . . .
but gosh, look at our pace.
It seems we're making progress like
we're bigger than this place.

The garden was before us, but
now spreads out to our rear.
The far rim of the chasm, now
looks just ahead and near.

This place is but illusions . . .
like our first sight of the bridge,
that looked to be the only way
to get from ridge to ridge.

The edges of the canyon that
now melt into thin air,
once threatened us with razor sides
that proved to not be there."

"Well, I'll be darned . . . who's flying now
completely by their seat . . .
two of my favorite idiots, again . . .
have landed on their feet."

Of course, we recognized The Voice,
and both let out a sigh.
I guess, by now, we knew that we
had better trust this guy.

"Voice, I'm really mixed up now.
I think that we're okay,
but I'm not sure of where we are,
or why we jumped that way."

"Bo," The Voice responded quick,
"as you two boys are apt,
you accidentally did it right.
Just let it go at that.

But, I guess you'll never figure out,
if I don't lend a hand,
some of the stuff you're going to need
to pass the great exam!

So, the chasm was a symbol for
all life's emptiness.
And filling it up, abundantly,
does not require finesse.

You simply have to make that leap . . .
to jump in spite of dread,
since much of living at first appears
certain to leave you dead.

This State is Wholeness, and often called
'fulfillment' where you're from . . .
and leaps don't need direction . . .
you only have to jump.

The Garden of Life will wait to grace
only those who enter.
The fearful see but chasm and death,
with nothing in the center.

They try to read unopened books . . .
to taste the untried meal . . .
to walk the path without a step . . .
to imagine what is real.

Fulfillment does not come to those
who wait to learn the game.
It's only he who starts to play
who understands its aim.

And with both feet . . . into the deep,
is how to meet each day.
With less commitment you are apt
to simply fade away.

Of course, you see, objective is
not required for leaps.
Few landings choose to advertise
what any jumper reaps.

The Zeer was lacking courage . . .
well, that's a common curse,
but timidity 'til assurance is
a trait considered worse.

The fearful I can stomach.
They make some sense to me.
But keep him from my sight who would
await a guarantee.

Hardly a living soul will give
the gods a greater chafe
than he, who blessed with body and mind,
still tries to play it safe!"

At that, the words abruptly stopped.
The Voice was clearly gone.
We looked around to recognize
we'd walked the entire lawn.

"Hey," Jo said, as we approached
the rise behind a bush,
"there ain't no stair, but it ain't high . . .
Give me a little push."

I boosted Jo, and watched him grab
right on the Phil-Mobile.
He turned and pulled me up to hear
it purring with a zeal.

We watched the garden beneath the sun . . .
return to chasm view.
Red blossoms on a nearby bush
flamed up in crimson hue.