Annie lain in repose on the long-drawn couch without armrests to set ends and limits to its bounds. Upon it she read in continued openness of night, reading in the yellow-gold of a new-life sun.
She read in the book of reentry and life meaning, where one finds meaning, purpose, and moments of elation some named transcendence but were perhaps maybe nothing more than full immersion and wonder for the living moment and one’s active and not passive existence among Universe, cosmic—GOD—immensity.
A strange thought, but in a strange land sought for the purpose of losing one’s self in wander—or was it wonder—was not something of a strange or different desired; living of experience away and different from melancholia of the modern mundane?
She read the thought from page, a multiple choice self-help that led the reader to determination of their own answers and destination—by whatever life means.
In repose and morning light, free and showing lines and bounds of sun-touch and kiss, she read:
“Note, however, that reentry by travel and also exile nearly always takes place in a motion from a northern place to a southern place, generally a Mediterranean or Hispanic-American place, from a Protestant or post-Protestant place stripped by religion of sacrament and stripped by self of all else, to a Catholic or Catholic-pagan place, a culture of exotic but not too exotic (Bali wouldn’t work), vividly informed by rite, fiesta, ceremony, quaint custom, manners, and the like. This is by no means a Counter-Reformation victory because the attraction is not the Catholic faith—which is absolutely the last thin the autonomous self wants—but the décor and artifact of Catholic belief: the Pamplona festival, the Taxco cathedral, Mardi Gras, and such.”[i]
Annie smiled, reading on the words, pattern and way of human flight; not all that different from the waterfowl when weather turned. Both needed light, days that did not begin and end in gray with emotive weather of the same.
It was a form of re-entry, rediscovery of lost self; one of several other means to lost or despairing souls; a means for revitalization, restoration, reaffirmation of one’s own life in a world that seeks to make man and spirit something far less.
She lain in the new-life light, sun of birth for the king of the world: exotic, strange, Catholic-thought in Catholic land, sought not for religion but for world surroundings—and still it appeared—perhaps even as most exotic piece of all.
She read and thought and found her peace. Through drawn door, she breathed the scent and air of sea and heard the low-sound crash of wave to pristine sands; turquoise hue that seemed to spill upward into sky; opposite of the way of sky and light that more often appeared in mirroring.
Upon her skin, she felt low-heat tinge of sun from days before; her body colored and changed in touch and effect; lines and change of hue for what was shared and shown for all to view; and what she protected still away.
She contemplated, drew into her mind, then breathed away the heaviness; returning to the levity of lay and light, scent and sounds of sea. She was alive, restored, found again in recognition of her own familiarity in the strangeness of somewhere else.
She was in peace; peace with the new-life sun.
[i] Walker Percy, Lost in the Cosmos: The Last Self-Help Book