Precipice of the Universe

In our lives, there are those rare, strange moments when we feel like we’re passing through different worlds. A single step onto a certain path, and suddenly it opens up to us. Our body becomes the soul, intertwined with nature, memory, and the fabric of the universe. We exist within others and intensely within ourselves - it becomes a space which is intensely real in all its magic. Reality reveals itself as something more kind, intimate, and we are called to soak in its matter.

These moments often happened onto me when I travelled alone, when I was vulnerable to the world. I actively sought out these pockets of the universe by keeping trust warm in my cold hands, and falling into Luck’s gentle guide. Solitude made me sensitive, and I was always a little sad at bundling the intense joy of these experiences quietly into my chest.

Being able to share those moments with friends will forever be the most precious memories I will ever hold. Stopping in the middle of our stride as we are seized by that wonder, she looks over at me with a sparkle in her eye and the biggest smile. “Can you feel it too? It’s like we’re in a different universe… a different time.”

Up there, on the northern coast of Japan, we hung on the precipice of time. Snowfall rested in our hair, large icicles crested the red brick warehouses by the port. Emptiness filled the streets. Sometimes, an old military truck would roll by, an imperial song strangely muted in its capsule of nostalgia. The tram dodded along the ice-laid rails, the driver appearing as a gruff voice, muffled as in a familiar dream.

Then there we were, somewhere, alone together, in another era. We walked to the cliff - the Pacific ocean spanned out as cold steel, the horizon of the north. Its power was visceral and held us still, on the precipice of something. We walked along the path, whose iron rails held little squids that guided us. We found ourselves in a café, its owner as charmingly antique as the velvet chairs, the porcelain tea sets and cherry wood. Drifting there quietly, we were cosy in the breath of time.

I believe that these moments are unique, but they may reoccur in similar patterns. Standing before a great temple, whose massive structure looms over you with wood dark and teeming with spirits, you may feel the universe holding you once again.

It is in those moments that we exist, wholly.