Once upon a time in a world just to the left of real, was the land of perfect. Why was it perfect, and why was it to the left and not the real world? I don't know but as the story goes I hope we find the answers to those and any other questions we might have.
Anyway in that land to the left, the land of perfect, the sun sun was shinning, it was deliciously warm and the rain coming down was a gentle massage keeping one cool as they walk. The sky was a perfect sky blue pink as it always was with the fluffiest of clouds that changed shaped flawlessly without effort keeping any who care to watch entertained. Laughter rang in the air like notes of music to a favorite song, and the birds , well there were no birds, at least not that one could see. The trees bending ever so slightly in the lightest of breezes, so heavy with foliage made the perfect home for birds, bees, and so many other creatures that would rather not be seen.
If one were to walk down what appeared to be the Main Street of Left World they would enjoy all the sounds and smells of a bustling world, horns honking, car engines roaring, cell phones ringing, thousands of voices all speaking at once, and the smells so pungent so full, coming at ones senses like a one two punch, garbage, motor oil, and gasoline cooking fats, decay, and even the occasional breath of sweet country air. If one were to walk down Main Street those are the sounds and smells one would encounter, but there would be nothing to see.
Not a person, not a car, truck or bicycle, not a store, or gas station, not even a street let alone a street sign. There was nothing, no matter what direction one might turn there was nothing. except for the sky there wasn't even any color.
One could feel it smell it hear it, but IT wasn't able to be grasped, touched or most of all seen. Walking towards the trees and low hanging clouds is a lesson in walking backward while moving forwards. With each step one takes in the direction of the trees, the trees appear to float even further away. In the colorlessness of this world it is more of a shimmer than a float, and with each shimmer the feeling gets stronger that one is walking backwards while stepping forward
There is no fear, no panic, not even a sense of urgency. It is as if time is standing still and it will never run out. One just keeps walking stepping forward constantly aiming for the trees. Never quit reaching them
Happy songs come and go the notes of their music leaving bright light trails in the sky, criss crossing one another making fancy bows like on a Christmas package. Catchings ones attention completely unwilling to let it go, teasing, utterly distracting, dulling the sense of disappointment one has at never making it to those trees. After all there is no rush there is all the time in the world and it will never run out. Still one can't totally shake the desire, the need, to get to those trees.
One knows without knowing, that they are completely safe, happy, in fact perfect right where they are standing, yet one just can't seem to sake the need, the pull to get to those trees. One foot in front of the other, no matter what. The songs sing, the laughter rings, the cheerful sounds of greeting call to you making you feel welcome, wanted and still the trees beckon, one must simply get to the trees.
It is alright there is no hurry, of one goes slow and steady, if one focuses, and lets the songs and laughter fade, one will eventually get there.
Looking down, watching each step one takes feeling the strength and determination that every footfall requires, like trudging in the deep soft sand in oversized work boots, no longer hearing anything but ones own breathing in the silence that surrounds them, one moves ever steady forward, to finally look up and see, they have made it to the edge of those elusive far away trees.
The flutes play, sweet voices raise up to the sky, the sun shines brighter than it has before, foot lifted poised to take that first step into what promises to be the Land Of Perfect, and
The Alarm Goes Off!
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