Journal | Magic At The Edge Of The WorldMay 10, 2023
We had made it to the edge of the world where the river meets the canal. Deep in the valley we had found the perfect spot. Across the river on the left bank the beavers had made a home and the slop rose gently covered in trees that were still waiting to sprout their green. On the right a sharp cliff rose high and the tip of the rock was covered in evergreens, forever unchanging while the seasons pass by.
Here we stood in our group of five, two furry ones, a fresh-out-of-the-womb one, and us two children living adult lives inside of adult bodies. It was us two who had come with all our baggage knowing, that here at the edge that knew us, we would be able to unload some of it.
But first we had to shed some of our cultural notions of what is okay and what is not. We looked at each other without turning our heads, just our eyeballs, with crooked smiles of shameless uncertainty. Then we looked around and about to see if there were any people and we were happy to acknowledge there were none within sight.
Without warning I began, letting out a loud "Whoop!" It was not quite at the top of my lungs, but pretty close. My partner followed suit, bravery building up within. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
There was an echo in the valley and we understood some of what must be the joy of yodeling in the mountains.
Our shouts unloaded what was within.
They moved through our bodies, moved us into a sense of freedom.
The shouts often just granted to children are necessary to the burdened adult.
The shouts lead to laughter, the laughter of freedom and change.
Shouts that mean nothing and hold within them a mystery of everything, a birth of something new.
We must go again and do this hauntingly beautiful spell, a magic so simple that our earliest ancestors must have done it and our final offspring will do it, too.
How strange it is to be in a world where we have learned control our voices even when we are in desolate places. How odd it is to stand there at the edge of the world where the river meets the canal, deep in the valley, and begin the process of unlearning the restraint of our voices.
Is this what they do, when they tell you to cease making music, forbid you to sing, stop you from screaming? Is it a taking away of the ability to connect with mystery and freedom on your own terms? To have access to something living and breathing inside that makes religion with external authority wholly unnecessary?
I wonder, have you done this? Gone into a place with no other human in sight and let free your voice at the top of your lungs, at max capacity, more than once? What was it like?
For us, it was life changing magic. A date that we often go on together, now that we know of how wonderful it feels.
Blog image created by prompting Dall E 2 by open AI.
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