In the room was a black wall stretching from ceiling to floor.
The blackness of it was complete and in conflicting contrast with the cheerful yellow wallpaper with the daises imprinted in white.
A window stood open across from the wall. Sheer white curtains moved with the breeze in a rhythmic pattern much like someone breathing. As if the wall itself was breathing. Next, to the window with the breathing curtains, a large red wicker rocking chair sat waiting to be used.
Except for the chair and the window with the breathing curtains, the room was bare. No modes of dust floated in the beams of sunlight that crept in through the open window. Not a sound of the world outside came in or cracking and creaking from the red rocking chair as I slowly sat into it to stare intently at the black wall.
I was drawn to the wall, with a purpose so deeply rooted in my body that I did not notice leaning towards it with elbows on knees and upturned hands cradling my face. I did not feel myself rocking the chair forward and back, forward and back in a rhythm matching my inhales and exhales with the breath of the curtains and the breathing of the wall.
Rocking and breathing and listening to the silence, I looked carefully at the black wall in front of me. It felt strangely soothing to look so deeply at something so complete for so long. I lost a sense of time as my mind began to calm and quiet and fold into itself. And there in my quiet mind; rocking back and forth to the breath of the curtains I saw the Black wall’s secret.
The wall was not in totality black. There were streaks where the sun reflected its shine off the paint. There were patches of hazy yellow that shown through in just the tiniest flecks; as if the paint roller was drying when it passed over the shape of the wall. Parts of the wall looked parched and dry like a blossom left too long in the sun without water. As I squinted and focused I swear I could see the small daisy pattern rise and flow over the length of the wall hiding behind the black.
There rocking and looking and feeling the windows breath on my neck, I began to listen to the wall as it breathed. I listened with my heart and my body rather than my mind and my ears. As I listened to the wall she began to share her knowledge with me.
“I am is not empty or the void of eternity”, she whispered in my heart.
“I am the presence of all. The all of everything” her words began to ring in my chest
“I am the color of all the earth and the people who walk upon her face” she whispered at the nape of my neck.
“I am all the colors in the spectrum of light, in the spectrum of life itself. All of everything flowing together and mixing to one total deep rich color, Black.”, She bellowed shaking her words out of the wall, blowing the curtains out of the window, making me sit straight-backed with arm stretched out and heart open to receive her unshakable truth.
“I am not the absence of life, I am the totality of it all. Good, bad, up, down, open, closed, complete, empty, time and space, free and chained, life and death married with each other into the perfect completeness of Divine Universal wisdom,” She breathed into each cell of my being.
“Black is everything brought together as one. And you my sweet child, are Black.”
And then she was gone and I was alone again with the Black wall and the red rocking chair and the breathing curtains. I stepped silently out of my shoes and walked toward her greatness. I lay my body flat against her, arms outstretched with palms caressing her curving surface. I kissed her softly as I stepped back to bow before her hands in prayer. And left her there to take her message to the world. All is Black