If you’ve ever read C.S. Lewis’ The Magician’s Nephew, you would be familiar with the part of the book near the beginning where Polly and Digory make it to the wood between the worlds. In this peaceful inter-dimensional forest there are countless pools of water. Each pool leads to a unique world full of different kinds of creatures, lands, and magic. The odd thing about the wood between the worlds is that when you are there, a feeling of sleepiness comes upon you, bringing with it the potential to become stuck there forever. I feel that I’m currently in such a place.
I seem to be caught in a lull of inbetweeness. I’m not afraid to jump into any given pool, instead I have the overwhelming feeling of not knowing which to jump into first and that I may never be able to delve into all of them. Staying here in this wood wouldn’t be so bad. It’s warm, quiet, uneventful, easy. But the spark of potential within each pool catches my eye as soon as I start to doze. What is it about potential and hope with us humans? It’s irresistible.
The pools in this place of mine seem to represent opportunities for my personal growth. They are vast and varied. Each I feel contains a piece of treasure inside that I need to construct one massive treasure greater than any part alone or that may make up a glorious armored suit of sorts.
There is no path in this wood. Only pools and trees. No markers. No signs. No instructions. Although, I do have a general sense of what each pool contains. When I peer in, a dim reflection of the world below comes through.