Majula | Field Writing

That orange blast of sun on the horizon, the twinkling of piano keys, the woman clad in green; she utters of hopeful well-wishing and punctuates with a message of fatal possibility.

“…lest this land swallow you whole.”

I remember the first time I saw Majula.
It was close to what seeing these Missouri skies was like at the start of all this.
So beautiful, so artist-like.

Looks like a design with intent.
In Majula it is, but it’s also an imitation of beautiful skies somewhere in the world.
Even the crystal cave, mythical in appearance, is real and captures wonder.
The beauty out there and in those worlds is deep. Deeper than a lot of things out there.

And the commonality between all of those things is the stillness.

Like silent giants that wave their torch over an empty sea. Their light skims the surface and lets the rare traveler know that there is something to move towards, a light in the empty void.

“…lest this land swallow them whole.”

And in Majula there are these many paths that can take us to anywhere and to anyone.

Some paths lead to the stories of others and we learn of their triumphs and sufferings.
Some paths lead to challenges we never knew we could surmount and challenges that leave us beaten and battered.
On some paths, we’ll see familiar faces. Familiar to us, but slowly becoming unfamiliar to themselves, as they age, as they grow, as they fade.

Majula, when we reflect on our identities, do we consider ourselves a blank slate or a worn one?

When we think of our fading do we consider what we actively let go of and what life strips us of?

Do we consider what we build and create in our own souls?Do we think of the Majula skies and the crafted worlds as part of our souls?

I do.

Because they impress themselves upon me.
They enter my head and never leave.
They drive me to write instead of sleep.
They lead me to remember the value in wonder and hope.

“…lest this land swallow you whole.”

Majula, I can see your skies now.
I can hear your soft piano.
I can see that woman clad in green.
I can see the silent giant waving its torch.
I can hear the words whispered in my ear:

“…lest this land swallow you whole.”