The Cave
When the world turns upside down
When wrong is right and right is wrong
When nothing humans do makes sense anymore
It’s time to crawl into your cave.
Not a big cave.
Not one that opens into a grand underground lair, lined with all the things you’ve ever wanted.
Not even an elegant one, full of crystallized stalactites and deep blue pools.
Nor one that harbors the last of a nearly extinct species of bat, fish, or spider.
No, your cave is a small and simple.
Big enough for you alone
Or maybe you and your dog, if he is the cuddly sort.
(If not, he can lie at the entrance, gazing at the outside chaos that he is lucky not to understand.)
You curl into a ball.
Solid rock above and beneath you touches your hips and shoulders.
Not in a claustrophobic way, but oh so gently.
As soft as warm sand.
Silence stills your mind, only one thought at a time able to slip inside.
The entrance to your cave is tiny. It—and your dog—keep away all the bad thoughts. The sad thoughts.
You do not think about things, or money. Nor of vast beauty or precious creatures that might not survive on this planet much longer.
You have no thoughts that make you aware of how much there is to lose.
Your only thoughts are of what exists around you, right this moment.
The smooth, still rock.
The sound of your breaths.
The sound of your dog snuffling in your ear, wet nose twitching in his sleep.
Calm.
Comfort.
You are in your cave.
Someday, when you feel strong enough to shield yourself from the craziness outside, you will emerge.
(Or perhaps sooner than that if your dog needs a walk.)
But your cave still lies in the earth, hidden to all but you.
And you can always crawl into it.
Happy Tales!
I love this piece, Wendy. Too often we think of 'curling up in a cave' as a negative escape--we 'just can't take it anymore'--so it's like a failure. But your cave is a place of caring where you can heal and come out when you're ready--or when you dog needs a walk! I love that bit of humor at the end. The next time I feel that need to curl up in a cave I will choose a soft and loving one; even dogless I can use it to recharge and heal. Thanks.
What to do? That is exactly the right question. I don't know if a cave is the answer, but I understand the urge to withdraw and isolate. It's safe, protective, and shiveringly isolating - so it needs to be temporary.