There's a fissure in the universe: Part II
A true-ish story, continued.
Psst. As always, this post is far too long for e-mail format, so click ‘read more’ at the bottom to see the whole thing!
Dear Kula Diaries,
This is part two of a short series. If you haven’t read part one, I’d highly recommend reading that first… or this will make very little sense to you. I’m going to start where we ended last time… with a continuation of a short writing piece that I had started working on a few weeks ago… but never finished (until now).
Part II: There’s a fissure in the universe.
There are … moments in life that sometimes make you question what you are doing and why you are doing it. And then there are moments where you raise the white flag and throw up your hands into the air … and decide that it isn’t even worth repeating the story anymore, because dwelling on things in the past is only holding you in resonance to the energy of the past. You remember that what you really care about isn’t where you’ve been… but where you want to go. Which is decidedly not where you just were… and you know that the more and more you focus on where you were, you’ll just continually hit the repeat button on that.
There are lots of moments like that in life. Sure. I could write about them all day. But there are also moments when you remember that last summer on a brilliantly sunny day… you learned how to fly.
Holy crap, I thought to myself. I CAN FLY. I was shocked and embarrassed that I had forgotten this important fact, because it seemed like it would have been such a pivotal thing to remember. My mind raced back to that perfectly sunny summer day — I closed my eyes and could feel the breeze in my hair again as I stepped off the ledge and into a dramatic swoop. A peregrine falcon had cawed loudly from its perch on a lonely snag in the forest as I soared by — probably just as confused as I was about what was happening. After the flying incident, I had been too afraid to mention it to anybody. I knew that nobody would believe me, and, oddly enough, I wasn’t able to fly when I was around large groups of people (believe me, I had tried). I started coming up with excuses to take walks alone so that I could practice flying… but my strange behavior started to concern people. Eventually, I decided that I needed to give it up.
From everything I had ever learned about human anatomy… humans just don’t know how to fly. How many bones are in the human body? Isn’t it about 204? And not one of them was a wing bone. After the first flying incident occurred, I looked it up on the internet (which is my resource for everything), and it confirmed what I thought: I should not be able to fly, under any circumstances. I did some more scientific research on my secret talent, and the only thing that I found was a description of flying in Life, The Universe and Everything that says, “There is an art to flying, or rather a knack. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.”
In the midst of the chaos that I had been experiencing, I knew with perfect clarity what I needed to do. I needed to dust off my seemingly impossible and invisible wings. I stood up from my desk in the Kula office, grabbed a cookie (for a snack), told everybody that I’d be back in a few hours… and I walked out. I wasn’t exactly sure how to get started, so I started running. I cursed my high-waisted carpenter pants, which felt heavy and burdensome as I tried to lengthen my stride gracefully… why did I have to buy so many pairs of these on Poshmark?! Damn cell phone addiction…. Initially, I was shaky. I’d run and jump into the air and only get about 6 inches of lift, before I tumbled back down on to the gravel. I sprinted past the latte stand near our office and out of the corner of my eye, I could tell that the barista was judging me. You try to fly when you’ve forgotten that you could do it, I whispered under my breath.
I ran and ran and ran… and I kept running. Every so often, I’d feel that little sense of buoyancy and I’d jump into the air and I could feel myself starting to lift up. Hold it… hold it… I’d say to myself, before losing my focus… and stumbling again. The traffic on the road started to thin out, and the houses were more and more sparse… replaced by small forest groves and grassy meadows. Eventually, I found my way to a small trail that led down to the bank of a river. The edge of the river was filled with smooth, grey rocks and the bank on the opposite side was sheer and eroded by the endless travel of water. I sat down on the river bank and held a smooth stone in my hand as I nibbled my cookie. It was a deliciously sugary lemon cookie with a creamy lemon glaze… not my usual chocolate chip cookie, and I wondered if maybe the lemon had contributed to my lack of flying ability. I bet that the chocolate chip cookies have something to do with this, I mused.
As I sat on the smooth stones, I closed my eyes and listened to the gentle sound of the river. I felt the breeze on my face and heard the wind rustled leaves. I noticed my breath coming in and out of my body… I felt the rise and fall of my stomach and sensed a deep feeling of peace. I know I can do this, I silently encouraged myself. Slowly but surely, I felt that familiar sense of buoyancy returning — my heart felt light and open and I could tell that the weight of my body was lifting from the rocky river bank. I envisioned myself soaring high into the North Cascades — Nobody is going to believe this, I thought, but wait until I show them!
“LOOK, A BABY DEER!!!”, a shrill voice behind me exclaimed. I felt a gentle thud as I plopped back onto the rocks and opened my eyes. A tiny fawn was meandering along the edge of the river and a small cluster of people were pointing excitedly at it. One of the women in the group was carrying several large cameras and a couple dressed in fancy clothing were awkwardly attempting to navigate the rocky riverbed in dress shoes. Ughhhh, I muttered, A photoshoot? Really? Didn’t they know that I was trying to fly? I picked up a rock and surprised myself by throwing it into the water with an audible huff — I was frustrated. It was time to walk back to the office.
I quickly walked the dirt trail back to the road and started aimlessly wandering… hoping that nobody at the office was worried about me. Since I wasn’t running on the way back, I took note of the houses that dotted the road as I walked past, and I was surprised to encounter a For Sale sign at the start of what appeared to be a long, winding driveway. ‘OPEN HOUSE TODAY’, the sign read. What the heck, I thought. Curiosity got the best of me, and I wandered down the long, dirt driveway that opened up into an expansive clearing at the end. “WOW”, I said out loud. The house in front of me was… stunning… and also creepy looking, but mostly stunning. A massive structure with huge columns, an imposing entryway with a massive door, one boarded up window in what appeared to be the attic…. What is this place? I walked up the front steps and grabbed the lion’s head door knocker to announce my presence. Inside, I chuckled — this feels like something out of a really bad and predictable television series, I thought. Before I could knock, the door opened and the bronze lion’s mane was whisked from my hand. A tiny woman wearing a pencil skirt and a fitted blouse opened the door and suspiciously eyed my high-waisted carpenter pants and Creepy Cat t-shirt, “Are you here for the open house? Or are you selling something… cookies or candy?”
“Who me?”, I looked around for anybody else, “Oh… no… I mean, I love cookies… but I saw the sign….”
“Come in,” she said quickly, ushering me into the massive home and closing the door behind me. She handed me a one page flyer, detailing the specs of the house:
“Seventy-five thousand dollars?”, I asked suspiciously, “The real estate market in the Seattle area is nuts… how is this even possible?” I read the specs a little bit more closely:
10,000 square foot home
6 claw foot tubs - included with purchase
7 acres of riverfront property with mountain view
12 bedrooms
Large stained glass window
Indoor pool
New dishwasher
6,000 bottle wine cellar
an unknown quantity of secret passageways
an elevator - might need minor repairs
built in 1935
Absolutely not haunted
Shaking my head, I clutched the flyer in my hand, “This seems too good to be true.”
“Well, it is a pretty exceptional property, but the owners are very motivated”, the realtor suggested as we meandered through the expansive home. I couldn’t help but notice her kick something that looked skin-like and pale under a draped end-table as we stepped into the formal living room. Was that a hand? I knew my eyes must be playing tricks on me. A third flight of stairs wrapped around the interior of the house and led to an unassuming black door. The realtor enthusiastically tried to turn my attention elsewhere, “And if we go into the master suite, you’ll be able to see the original wood-fire heated towel rack!”
“Wait,” I stammered, pointing to the door, “What’s up there?”
“Ohhhh….”, she said avoidantly, “That’s the attic. But it’s locked, and nobody can find the key.”
I thought for a minute about every horror show that I had ever seen where people move into a house that seems too good to be true and then it turns out to be horribly haunted and causes the almost immediate demise of the entire family. And then, I decided that was just something that happened on TV… certainly not in real life.
Unbelievably, I had recently earned exactly $75,000 in a very lucrative nut butter influencing campaign. I had launched a set of exclusive tiny spoons, paired with artisanal nut butters, and to my surprise, a few celebrities (unbeknownst to me) had a pretty uncontrollable obsession with mini spoons. The nut butter and spoon kits went viral, and I ended up with a huge and unexpected payout.
“I’ll take it”, I heard myself saying to the stunned realtor, “In fact, I’ll write the check right now.”
Usually, I consult with my husband on important decisions like how many boxes of chocolate bon bons I should buy… or whether or not I should get two butternut squashes instead of one… and if purchasing a second, completely unnecessary and most likely haunted home is a good idea … but for some reason I felt like I had to buy this house. I was pretty sure he would understand. Afterall, the impulse was impossible to ignore. As the realtor scrambled to make phone calls and assemble the paperwork, I tip-toed around the house… peaking out a window at the top of the stairs to look at the vast yard and gardens. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I caught the sight of a hooded figure scurrying awkwardly through the garden. Who the hell is THAT? I called down to the realtor, whose name I still didn’t know, and asked about the shadowy figure.
“Oh, that’s Azazel… the groundskeeper…I forgot to mention… he comes with the property. He’s very friendly, but don’t make eye contact… and definitely do not mention his peg-leg, the eye-patch on his right eye, hunchback, permanently runny nose, or the fact that he is missing one ear and 3 of his toes. He’s very sensitive.”
“Got it,” I affirmed as a made a mental note to invest in some lotion-infused Kleenex for Azazel.
Remarkably, the realtor worked her real estate magic and within the hour quickly declared that the house was mine. She hurried to pack her bag and take down her Open House signs. “Good luck”, she yelled as she ran down the driveway in her high heeled shoes.
I walked back into the house and started envisioning what I’d do with it. I really didn’t need another house at all, but I thought that, at the very minimum, I could renovate this one into a pretty amazing AirBNB. It was just too good of a deal to pass up… and with the exhausting few weeks that I had working at Kula, I really needed something fresh and new to feel excited about. I jingled the keyring that the realtor had given me in my pocket… I wonder if one of these keys opens up that weird attic door? Obviously, I had to check.
I ran up to the attic door, and tried every key… no luck. I turned around to leave and found myself face to face with the groundskeeper who had mysteriously managed to enter the home and ascend three flights of obnoxiously creaky steps with a wooden peg leg without alerting me to his presence. “What the heck!!!”, I shrieked. Immediately, I diverted my gaze from the eye patch on his right eye, remembering the warning from the realtor.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to startle you”, he said.
“Ummm, actually, I think you did… otherwise you might have said something like… ‘Hello, I’m walking up the steps right behind you now and don’t want to startle you’.”
Azazel looked at me with a raised eyebrow hovering over his one, uncovered eye, “Honestly, I don’t know if anybody would use those exact words. Ever.” He had a point.
I took a deep breath and calmed my nerves, "Ok, well, since we’re here. I’m Anastasia. I own a gear company that makes a pee cloth… it’s a long story, but I can explain later. Anyway, I just bought this house… and I really want to get into the attic. Do you know where I can find the key?”
Azazel shook his head and walked away… “The attic only opens if it wants to.” I rolled my eyes. The disturbingly haunting cliche-like feeling of this situation was making me cringe. I couldn’t help but notice that his peg leg made a reverberating echo through the whole house as he clunked with effort down the wooden stairs. “Hey”, I yelled after him, “I thought you said you didn’t sneak up on me? You’re clunking!” Ugh. I was starting to feel a slight tinge of buyer’s remorse.
As I began to descend the landing, I heard a gentle creaking noise. I quickly turned around and saw that the attic door was slightly ajar, a soft blue-ish green light emanating from the barely visible crack in the doorway. Without hesitation, I ran back to the door, threw it open, and walked in. What I saw was something unlike anything I can possibly describe in this diary entry. Suffice it to say that there was a very distinct gash in the ceiling of the room that appeared to be… open. Logically, I knew I was looking up at a very tall, lofty ceiling… but I wasn’t just looking at a ceiling… I was looking through it. Somehow, in someway, I was looking deep into the cosmos and I knew in my heart what I had discovered: the fissure.
“I KNEW IT!!”, I exclaimed gleefully. Suddenly, the past 4 months of stressful agony made sense: it wasn’t me… it was the fissure. I hadn’t done anything wrong… there was just a little tear in the seam of the universe, and it needed to be repaired. Leading up to this moment of life, I had very little experience at cosmic fissure repair. While I had experience working as a hot dog girl… park ranger… and railroad police officer… very surprisingly, those career paths don’t translate into direct knowledge of how to repair a tear in the cosmos. Intuitively, however, I knew what needed to be done. I bent down and untied my right shoelace on my Vans High Tops. The ceiling of the room was remarkably high, and I knew that there was only one way to reach it. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and felt my body lift off the ground and I gently soared toward the fissure. Unlike Stranger Things, which is a grossly fictional representation of a cosmic fissure, a real universal fissure is relatively harmless and easily repaired.
Cautiously, I approached the tear and I gently placed my hand inside. I felt a soft glow and a warm presence beaming out of the opening… and while I was tempted to go inside, I knew that there would be no turning back if I did that. I thought about all of the things that I loved: my husband, my family, my cats, and my dear little pee cloth company. As tempting as it was to unite myself eternally with universal consciousness… I decided that I wasn’t quite done baking cookies just yet. I gently pushed my shoelace through the soft edge of the fissure and while floating in the air just below it, I gradually stitched this small fragment of the universe back together.
As I neared the end of repairing the tear, I could feel myself becoming less and less buoyant. Somehow I knew that maintaining the strength to repair this tear also meant sacrificing my ability to fly… forever. I looked at the last few inches of the fissure and peered deep inside of them — into a place far beyond anything I could comprehend, but also a place that I knew was somehow within me too. I knew that I could easily and quickly unstitch the fissure… descend to the ground… and continue to see the chaos of life, albeit with the ability to fly. But I also knew that there was a lot more to life than getting exactly what I wanted. Maybe, just maybe, the universe’s plans for me were better than the plans I had for myself. I crisscrossed the shoelace across the remaining section of the fissure, and as the fabric of the universe was brought together again, I felt myself slowly descending back to the ground as a final beam of light glowed brightly from the repaired seam and then vanished. I placed my hand on my heart and felt a warmth that I had never experienced before. I looked up at the ceiling and it was… just an old, dusty ceiling.
I walked downstairs and out the giant front door. Azazel was off in the distance raking a pile of leaves for seemingly no reason whatsoever. I held the key ring high in the air and waved at him. He nodded, unceremoniously and I placed the keys to the house on the front porch and walked back down the long driveway to the main road. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t need to come back… but I was already dreading having to tell Aaron that I had bought a second house.
I made it back to the little Kula office just as dusk was beginning to settle. As I approached our quirky little shed-like building, I could see the warm glow of light radiating out of our office. Just a few months prior, this had been an empty, vacant building. Now, our string of pizza-shaped lights was visible framing the window of our fulfillment room. I stood in the parking lot and watched as the silhouettes of my employees and my husband wandered back and forth — I could tell that they were finishing packing orders for the day, and I was instantly overwhelmed with an incredible sense of gratitude for this simple scene. In this tiny building, perched on the crust of planet earth, were three other humans who had dedicated their time and energy to something that had once just been an idea that I thought was a little silly. I placed my hand on my heart again — I could feel the repaired fissure pulsing from deep within me. I won’t forget, I whispered to myself.
I walked into the office, hoping that nobody would be upset that I had been gone for so long. Fortunately, they were so busy packing orders for the holiday season that they barely paid attention as I walked in.
“Where did you go?”, Aaron asked.
“Oh, just for a walk. I needed some air,” I half-lied to him.
We packed up for the day and hopped in the car to head home. I had decided that since the new house was located on our drive home that I’d break the news to Aaron by turning down the driveway and showing it to him as a dramatic surprise. I thought that, at the very minimum, he’d at least be excited when he saw how big it was. As we approached the spot where I had turned onto the driveway, however, it wasn’t there. I rubbed my eyes and slowed down as we passed by.
“I’m sure it was here”, I blurted out loud.
“What was here?”, Aaron asked.
“A house. A huge house and a long driveway. That’s where I was today… it was this old house with a groundskeeper… and, I know you’re going to be mad but please don’t be… I bought it… or at least I thought I did.” I pulled over into the small, gravel shoulder of the road to try and get a closer look.
Aaron laughed a little bit. “You bought a house? With what money?”
I told him I had used my nut butter income to buy the house, and he pulled out his phone and clicked on a few buttons before shaking his head, “Ummm… I think you’re dreaming. That money is still in the account.” He showed me the Nut Butter bank account. Sure enough, my $75,000 was still there. I don’t even know what’s real anymore… I felt confused. I knew I hadn’t imagined everything.
“AZAZEL!”, I shouted, frantically pointing into the woods. I could see a shadowy figure wandering in the weeds. Maybe I had just gotten confused about the location of the driveway. I jumped out of the car and yelled again, “AZAZEL!” Aaron shook his head, “Who in the hell is Azazel?”.
“He’s the groundskeeper! He’s got a patch and a peg leg and a hunchback and a really runny nose.” I sprinted off towards the man in the woods, with Aaron following closely behind me. Within a few feet, it became very clear to me that this was not Azazel. The resemblance was uncanny … this man did have a distinct limp under his baggy pants… a very runny nose and a slight hunch to his back… but his eye patch was on his left eye, not his right one. “Was there ever a house here?”, I blurted out. The man looked confused, “No,” he said, “No house. This property has been vacant for a long time. I just come here to walk.”
“Oh,” I apologized, “I’m so sorry to startle you… I just thought…”
“No worries”, said the man, “You weren’t bothering me one bit.”
Aaron and I turned to head back to the car when the man called out to me again, “I hope you find what you are looking for.” I watched him as he walked away… he placed his hand in his pocket and I heard a loud jingle. Keys. He turned to me one last time and winked his right eye.
Back in the car, Aaron looked seriously at me, “Well, that was weird. What on earth were you talking about? Buying a house?”
“I don’t know”, I said, “When I left for my walk this afternoon, I ended up doing a meditation at the river. I think I dreamed all of it. Just forget it.”
We drove the rest of the way home in silence. I was trying to make sense of what had happened. I thought back to the time when I was a little girl and was sure that I had flown around my bedroom - at the time, I knew it was real… but I had convinced myself that it wasn’t. Was it possible that I was doing the same thing here? Maybe the point was not whether it was real or not — maybe the point was that in some way it had happened. I didn’t have the keys to a creepy mansion to prove it… and I’d never be able to hover or do a flip in the air again. But I had found the fissure, and I had decided to close it. I had felt a very physical, very tangible experience that day… but I knew, in my heart, that the fissure wasn’t located on some ceiling in a creepy open house that I had randomly stumbled across. I knew that the fissure was something within my own heart.
As we pulled into the driveway, I smiled — home. My husband had recently installed new porch lights on our house, and they flickered like candle flames in the dark as we arrived. We sat in the car and watched the lights flickering for awhile. The sky behind our house was just barely clinging to the last little bit of blue before it surrendered to the darkness. I could see the silhouettes of our three cats in the windows and sliding door of our home — their eyes glowing with even the tiniest reflection of light. I watched the flickering fake candle light glimmering in my husband’s eyes as he smiled at our cozy little cabin in the woods. For a moment, it felt like the whole universe was holding its breath and watching those little lights flicker — and maybe it really was. I had once heard that our human consciousness is the universe becoming aware of itself. How is it that such a simple moment of life — like watching a flickering porch light — could inspire so much awe and wonder? I reached over and squeezed my husband’s hand without saying anything. Slowly, we got out of the car and carried our backpacks and lunchbox into the house.
The cats greeted us as we walked in and I looked around my home. After a few months of the fissure… I had forgotten how much I loved it. I had forgotten to appreciate all of the little things. I had been waiting for things to get better in order to remember the beauty of life… and I had forgotten the one thing that was true: I always had the ability to stitch it up. I bent down to untie my shoes as I thought about the past day and how much had transpired in just a few hours… I secretly longed for one more twirl through the air to feel the wind in my hair again. I envisioned myself soaring through the alpenglow in the North Cascades and yearned for the chance that I would never have. I slipped off my left shoe and, lost in my thoughts, I unconsciously moved my hands to my right high top. I was less than a second into untying my shoe when I realized that my hands were fumbling… with nothing. My right shoelace was gone.
“What happened to your shoelace?”, Aaron asked quizzically.
I laughed, “Oh, well… remember that I told you there was a fissure in the universe? Well, I used my shoelace to repair it.”
He laughed back, obviously under the impression that I was joking, “A real life MacGyver! Next time, maybe keep a paperclip and a piece of floss in your pocket in case you need it, ok?”
I laid in bed that night, unable to fall asleep. Cinder, our 8lb Siberian Forest Cat was in her usual spot — mysteriously draped in such a way that she occupied nearly half the space that my legs required to stretch out comfortably. I looked up at the ceiling and, in the dark, I reached my hand up and traced an imaginary fissure in the air. I felt warmth all around me — and from within me. It was the same warmth I had felt when I had placed my hand into the fissure earlier in the day. I had thought that I could only find that feeling by going within the fissure itself and giving up the things that were important to me— but now I started to realize that I could find that feeling by going within myself too. I closed my eyes and blinked them open and for a split second, I was sure that I could see a galaxy of stars twinkling above. In disbelief, I quickly blinked my eyes again and looked up … the white paint of our ceiling was just barely visible in the darkness. I could feel the coziness of my bed… the warmth of my husband and my cats nestled in around me and I smiled. I closed my eyes again and looked deep into the infinite expanse of stars and nebulas and planets that stretched out in every direction. I wondered again… Was it real? Or was I dreaming? As I drifted off to sleep, I knew that it didn’t really matter.
Love,
Anastasia
An explanation:
A few weeks ago somebody submitted a question in my AMA form that really touched my heart. In fact… it wasn’t even a question… it was a writing prompt. In fact, a few writing prompts. They said, “Write a story that begins with one of these.” The writing prompt that I chose from that list was: It was a sunny summer afternoon when I discovered I could fly. This two-part story emerged from that prompt and it is a story that is woven with both truth and imagination. It will be up to you to decide which parts are real.
Friends, thank you so much for being here and for reading my words. This story brought unfathomable joy and creativity into my life for the past two weeks and I am beyond grateful for the special collaboration with one of you. So, if you submitted the writing prompt — I want to deeply thank you for the inspiration and fun that you brought to my heart.
I am sending you all so much love today and all days.
-A
Oh this was so delightful! Thank you for sharing Anastasia!
I loved the story prompt and the story. There were multiple ways to interpret the use of flight and closure but I especially enjoyed the choice you made to acknowledge life’s joy as the path where they both converged.