[This is one of those start writing and see what happens things. I…don’t really know what to say about it. I’ve never been in a drum circle but I guess this is what I see with my minds eye.]
Sound waves echo through my body as if my very molecules are shifting due to the rhythmatic thudding of the drums at the center of a multi-layered circle comprised of dancing souls. Dust is thrust into space as the circles spin opposite each other like the focusing of a lens, clouding from leg down, torsos floating on spiraling ether. Eyes closed and all humming as one, a song dances in the cosmos. Like the rings around Saturn or a top never tilting, forever they revolve. Then with a sudden flash of emotion the souls come to a halt. The universe collapses, nothing becomes nothing, and the dust falls back to earth.
“Heads or tails?”
The question hit me like a blow to the chest. Why couldn’t he ask to call it in the air like a normal person? The urgency would have me blurting an answer before I had the time to think, but now the weight of the decision has made it harder to breath. Nothing anyone would notice, but I notice. Taking a breath is like walking and switching from concrete to earth. There’s a slight slowing of pace and steps become fractionally shorter.
“Well? Heads. Or tails.”
Shit, I probably look like an idiot standing here blank faced over such a simple question. He doesn’t know that this single instance will change our lives forever, but I know. Never again will this moment happen in time and its consequences will ripple through history. I’m getting hot. Those three little words explode in my mind like the big bang and a universe of endless possibilities is formed. This is a universe in a multiverse where time is non-existent, you can replay moments for a different result. The Alpha-verse. The others are like where I currently reside, stone like, forever. A bead of sweat drips from my hair line and down my temple bringing me back to now. I’m unmoving, not even a heartbeat. My friend is staring with this silly questioning look on his face and I almost want to laugh out loud at the situation. Suddenly, a breath and before I can stop its escape, “Tails!”
The brass family heirloom sitting atop the dresser has been forever spinning since the day I inherited it 6 years ago at 18. Covered in a worn dark leather case I can hear it spinning even now as I lay my head against the cold sheets. I’ve never been one for pillows. Focusing on the sound as I drift, I always imagine the whirling taking me off to some magical place for an outrageous adventure. But every night I’m brought to the place, the very moment I received it.
It’s night. My mother and I are sitting around a campfire after spending the day fishing. We had just walked a treacherous trail in the dark and finished eating S’mores. I’m watching the flames dance to the jazz of the wind. She rests her gentle hand on my knee to get my attention. I turn and see her talking but can’t make out any of the sounds over the calm crackling of the fire. She reaches out into space presenting an item wrapped in a soft green handkerchief. As I take it from her I distinctly hear the item begin its spin. While unwrapping it I know my mothers talking but I still can’t hear her voice. Nothing over the noise of the whirling. Then I hear her, “One day this compass with lead you, as it has lead our family.” But something is different. Usually this is where I wake but the moment lingers longer than it should. “I love you!” she says as her arms are thrown around me. “I love you.” CLICK.
The spinning stops and now its my visions turn. The campfire is gone and shifts into a different scene. The most amazing sunrise framed perfectly by two peaks. A lush green valley with a small babbling stream splitting a tiny village in two in the distance. Burned onto my brain is this image of serenity. My eyes are suddenly open. I’m awake and staring around the room unmoving, aware of a change but unable to discern it. I leap out of bed and stalk across the creaky wooden floor towards my dresser once the moment of realization strikes, silence. The compass has stopped. Sliding off the leather cover I see it, my destiny. NE 72 degrees.