Regis College - Mount Regis Yearbook (Weston, MA)

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I stand on the highest branch of the tallest tree, bare toes gripping, arms extended, body falling forward so, so slowly; a bubble rises from the pit of my stomach. Enlarging and quickening as it passes, it forces its way through my chest to my throat. I close my eyes and surrender all my being to the bubble, which with one last thrust, breaks the barrie r of my mouth and enters the region of my brain. Bare feet slide on slippery bark and my body leaves the tree, falling upwards at tremendous speed. My body . . . what an amazing creation. My body ... a precision instrument in the hands of my brain. My body ... a hard and compact unit whose core generates such energy and heat that the flames turn my vision red, turn my vision back to the source of all heat and fire, back to the sun. The earth’s dark bosoms’s beating and heaving, heaving and beating against my back. The sun enters my uplifted palms, seeps down, down deep, melting each sinew, each vein, disintegrating each love, each hour, each individual trait and leaving only that flame at the core of my existence to unite with the fire of the sun and the warmth of the earth and the core of every other living or inanimate thing. The sun has come to earth, and the green lattice-work clouds melt and flow across the red sky in joyful imitation of the union of all living and inanimate things which they witness and of which I am a part. When I got back I wanted to tell you all about it, but I knew you could never understand, so I decided to just keep it to myself.