"IN A DREAM YOU SAW
AND YOU WERE FULL OF JOY"
‑Jenny Holzer, text artist, from exhibition
Photographers + Friends United Against AIDS
I was with a group of unfamiliar people in a mountainous
wilderness region. We were descending from the upper elevations to a
destination far below, which was rumored to be a natural attraction of
great renown. I had the collective association of expectancy, the
tingly anticipation of thrill and danger before an amusement park
ride. Someone said, "This is going to be a real SCARY ride!" and
several people chattered and giggled like teenagers waiting in queue
for the roller coaster. I felt very sober then, and thought...No!
This is no amusement park ride, it is a pilgrimage. I felt a wave of
apprehension sweep over me. My mood affected my companions, as we
came upon a long wooden staircase which wove snakelike down the steep
terrain. We paused in silence at the top of the stairs. We could see
our destination far, far below...a shimmering turquoise lake, a
natural quarry, with great walls of cliffs rising on every side.
We descended slowly and deliberately in a hushed procession.
Finally we reached a wide wooden platform, like a diving perch, which
hung out over the edge of the lake. I was struck by how translucent
and clear the pool was, and its color, that blinding turquoise of a
heavily chlorinated swimming pool. Its surface flashed and danced in
the reflective sunlight. Yet there was another source of illumination
which emanated from its depths, which held a very seductive allure, in
effect, calling us into it. As we stood for awhile at the edge,
several of the people looked to me and asked, "How far down does this
go?" I realized then, that I had been here before, and said to them,
"Very, very deep," remembering that this was, in fact, a bottomless
lake. I surveyed my companions, wondering at their motivations for
coming to this place, and if they realized what they were getting
themselves into. Suddenly, impetuously, a young girl with long blonde
hair, took a long nude slow motion dive off of the platform into the
lake.
We all gasped as we watched for a few long moments, as she
descended further and further. "She's gone too deep! She'll never
make it back alive!" someone in the crowd exclaimed. When it became
apparent that she had no intention of reversing her course, I jumped
in, feet first, to retrieve her...I also descended far past the
point where I could safely return to the surface. But in the knowing
that I had been here before, I knew I did not have to go to such
extreme depths and I did not fear for my physical survival. I was
struck at the difference in the physical sensations, remembering the
panicky suffocating constriction of my lungs that last time I had been
here. This time, the descent was controlled, as if an inherent
buoyancy kept me from becoming like the dead weight of a sinking
stone. I could breathe as easily as if I were in the upper air. I
felt like I was flying, upright and downward, but that the water was
the atmosphere. I relaxed considerably and looked around me as I
descended, in wonder, at this new environment...
Had the environment changed? Or had I? Freed from fear of
survival, I could see it with new eyes, perceive it through new
senses. It was beautiful beyond words, so clear, still shimmering.
Now matter how far I descended I could still look up and see the
tension film that separated this world from the one above. The
sunlight danced off that plane, and I was amazed that the light
penetrated yet so deeply. There was no darkness below me... the light
emanated from above and below, simultaneously... forever. I could
still feel the cool soothing sensation...the watery wind enveloping my
body...a fluid, flexible, protective aura...an amniotic air that I
simply existed in. As I became suspended in that state of being the
young girl passed me on her way back up to the surface. We smiled in
affectionate recognition of each other. I watched her return...with
the graceful undulating movement of a mermaid. She had her hands
outstretched, reaching for the light of the sun, yearning to break
through into the air above. As I saw her body disappear through the
quicksilver membrane between the worlds of water and air, she burst
through in slow motion, her white wings lifting her into the lightness
of an airborne being, as her toes left behind pinpoints on the
quicksilver, which radiated outward in floating concentric waves.
Knowing that she had survived, I reversed my course also. I could
feel my cells somehow accumulating more air, like a balloon, which
pulled me effortlessly and naturally toward the surface after her.
Trish Evers was a professional artist
and writer living in Wheaton,