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Journey to the Valley Author: Courtney Frey
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I wasn’t sure
where I was headed, only that I was moving. My feet put themselves one in
front of the other and though I was not coherent I followed. In such a
great big world I felt alone and had long given up the hopes of finding
others. Perhaps they were there, civilizations of communities and friends
and families living lives full of laughter and love, but I never saw them.
I had heard them occasionally, but was not in control of where my feet
took me and so never got close enough to see them. Over hills and through valleys and around gorges deep and
shallow alike, my body never stopped even though I was near death inside.
Small whispers filled my thoughts every now and then, ‘You’ll get there,
you’ll get there,’ they said. I didn’t know where there was, and surely
had no control over it. I remember the moment I came up over the mountain to the
peak that looked over the valley. The day was just beginning and though
the sun sparkled and shone, the breeze was chilled with an icy breath.
When I first laid eyes on it I shivered, not from the wind but from the
sight of it. Set within a cavern of hard, red stone lay a valley dark
with thunderous tones. Shadows cast themselves up against the rocks that
jailed the flatlands below and the cold wind pushed the illusions to and
fro as if they were arms flailing to get out. I froze, stiff with fear,
wanting to move my hands up to my ears to shelter them from the deafening
cries. Suddenly my throat constricted and from within my gut a
sob arose. For what seemed like the first time in so long I began to moan
with cries that had, I thought, at one time cried themselves to sleep. The
numbness I’d carried and lived with melted away from my insides and I
began to feel. I was frightened, hearing my own voice scream and cry from
above the valley, and I knew not why it was happening to me. Only that my
feet finally gave out from underneath my body and I collapsed onto the
hard ground below. The sobs and the pain and the guilt and the loss
over-took me and the weight of it all was like a huge iron hand that
shoved me down, and I began to fall. Spinning and turning and tossing like
a beaten, rag doll I fell into the flatlands below. I could not stop crying. As if everything I’d tried so
hard to ignore and hide had finally had enough and was forcing itself from
my body I began to convulse. I lay like an infant curled up, abandoned,
and got sick all over the place. Hours must have passed and suddenly I
realized that while I was still crying … there was no sound. No sound
left. My eyes slowly opened, as if I just happened upon this
place. I saw the shadows waving against the rocks, yet this time they were
not flailing to get out, but moving rhythmically together as if hearing a
melody. My body warmed and I felt a smooth, gentle heat come up over me. I
almost moaned, feeling as if I’d laid myself down in a warm bath. The
emotions swirled around me like nothing I’d ever felt before. Without
hearing any words at all I heard a thousand voices telling me everything
I’d longed to hear and know and believe in for so long. How did they know
all those things? Were where the voices coming from? I lifted my head so
that I might see beyond my tears, but still could not see anything but
shadows and the slow, moaning voices of others. And yet, peace. I knew not where it came from, only that I
no longer needed my body to carry me. Strength had returned to me.
Suddenly I was lifted up from the ground, set upon my feet and a strong,
warm, wind pushed me forward. I tried turning my head, to look back, but
the wind, though gentle as it was, pushed me hard. I found myself standing in front of an immense rock wall.
I struggled to turn away from it, not understanding why I had been pushed
to it. The whispers and the voices and the cries reached into my spirit
and I heard them … “Go … you can do it … it’s time.” It seemed that I had no choice but to climb out. With
every ounce of the new strength I’d been given I nestled one foot into a
crevasse and pulled myself up. Each time I wanted to give up, to climb
back down, I was held up and pushed with the wind. Every muscle inside of
me shook and trembled. I was so weak from years of effortless moving that
my body had to fight to lift me. Yet I had no choice. I could not turn
back and there was nowhere else to go. Each time I thought about giving
up, letting go, the whispers and voices around me cheered me on. The
shadows that danced on the rocks I climbed seemed to know exactly when to
help me. I would not have made it up without them. With one last painful pull I reached the top and drug my
body over it. I felt the shadows release my legs. I was exhausted, yet
free. I felt like dancing, singing. I turned from the ground where my head
was hanging to catch my breath and looked back across the cavern from
where I’d come. Above the rocks, where I first stood when I first came
across this place stood another … just like me. My eyes opened wide and I
wanted to shout out to her … to warn her. I was panicked for her,
remembering my fall down the rocks and recalling the agony and weight of
all the emotion. I wanted to figure out a way to get her to the other side
without her having to suffer the collapse as I had. I stood, put my hands
to my mouth to call out, but as I did …. I saw it. The shadows moved into faces, in their arms were shadows
of babies held tight to their mother’s breasts. Their faces were stained
with permanent tears, their eyes swollen from mourning. Each shadow moved
up the rock, closer to the girl, and I was afraid for her. She stood, just
as I had, weak and empty, wondering where the noises were coming from. As each shadow reached the girl I watched as they placed
the shadows of their babies into the soul of the girl. As each infant
reached into her heart I watched what had happened to me … as it happened
to her. She remembered. She felt again. As she dropped to her knees a
gut-wrenching sob came out from her throat and she screamed. Several of
the shadows wrapped themselves around her, beginning to cry themselves.
Then, as all of them worked together she began to fall. Inside the cavern, in the flatlands, she curled up like an
infant and went through the same experience that I had. Her body shook,
she convulsed, she got sick, and she sobbed and moaned and cried. As she
did this … I watched the shadows around her. Some of them became angry,
their faces skewed with rage. Some of them were grieved, their sadness
bringing them to their knees. All of the shadows became replicas of every
emotion the girl was feeling. As if they were taking her pain, showing it
to her, telling her she was not alone … slowly filling the emptiness
inside of her with the comfort, validation, and acceptance she’d been
trying to find for so long, alone. I was mesmerized as I watched it all happen. Stunned into
stillness, not able to move at the power of every single shadow and the
girl, curled up into their arms. Suddenly I heard a voice and felt a
presence beside me, “Watch this …” it said. As the girl opened her eyes, lifted her head, and turned
her body to look for the wind around her … the shadow of a baby became
present in her arms. Though she could not see it, I watched her face and
her body … the deep breath she took as she realized … who she was and that
she had not lost what she thought she had. As the shadow of the infant
showed itself to me, I watched the shadows of all the infants that their
mothers had offered be returned to them. The wind picked up, and the girl
was pushed to her feet. I had not realized I was crying until I felt the hand of
someone wipe my tears away, “Come on … come with me,” she said. I followed her without questioning. Seconds later I gained
the courage to ask her, “What was that place? How did that happen?” She was silent for several moments more as we made our way
to another mountaintop. Stepping near the peak she turned towards me,
smiled, took my hands in hers and spoke, “That was the Valley of Loss …
where all birthmothers must go in order to get to the Valley of Sisters.”
I burrowed my eyebrows, “Valley of Sisters?” I asked her.
She put her arm around me and turned me towards the peak.
As I came over it and looked down below into it I saw everything I’d ever
done, everywhere I’d ever been, and what could be … and because my
birthmother sister knew exactly the same she did not hesitate … “Go … go
ahead …” And I jumped. Into the Valley of Sisters where I was
embraced and welcomed with acknowledgment and cries of joy and
recognition. Because I had made it. I had survived the years of loneliness
and emptiness and denial and grief, the journey I’d taken and the strength
I’d received. I met others like me and reveled in their stories and their
courage and as each day passed I grew stronger. I wanted to stay forever
in the Valley of Sisters, where we were comforted and encouraged to
discover our hearts desires and to live out our dreams. But then the wind picked up … | ||
