The Oasis

The Oasis

 

When I die, I'll see the oasis, of this I'm sure. I've already had a glimpse, just a peek, no more than a single episode to know that it is there. So assuredly, without question I wandered in there once, guided and was thrown back to reality. It was wonderful. Restful and peaceful and glorious beyond compare, the oasis waits for us all as a respite, a song that is yet unsung in our hearts.

 

For me the single concept of an oasis lies in ancient texts and readings we learned while in school. My thought was a desert, a spring of life eternal, simply blossoming from dry sands and torrid winds. No concept of the heat, little understanding of the thirst, we read and understood as a child understands the smell of his mother's milk that there is a quenching and extinguishing of wants and worries once the oasis was reached. Romantically, the oasis was portrayed as a mirage, unattainable and distant, silvery and watery and slip-sliding away with the turn of the eyes. To wander the desert for days, suddenly spying the oasis, dry and parched, suffering nearly to exhaustion, but finally reaching the quiet pool of wetness.

 

 

For me the single concept of an oasis lies in ancient texts and readings we learned while in school. My thought was a desert, a spring of life eternal, simply blossoming from dry sands and torrid winds. No concept of the heat, little understanding of the thirst, we read and understood as a child understands the smell of his mother's milk that there is a quenching and extinguishing of wants and worries once the oasis was reached. Romantically, the oasis was portrayed as a mirage, unattainable and distant, silvery and watery and slip-sliding away with the turn of the eyes. To wander the desert for days, suddenly spying the oasis, dry and parched, suffering nearly to exhaustion, but finally reaching the quiet pool of wetness.

 

Heaven on earth, a culmination of satisfaction and awareness that all is right with the world, an oasis promises what we didn't think we needed, what we suffered to get to and what we deserved all along.

 

There can't be a story about an oasis without suffering. The very particular need of defining an oasis is in describing the care and relief upon discovery. So, understandably when thinking of the result, we think of the process and get stuck there at the oasis. None of the stories as a child ever talked about leaving the languid pool to suffer again, only in reaching the goal. When we think of our lives as passages and a simple oasis' in our midst with friends and family, births and deaths, we continually move on, beyond the oasis and hardly notice our travels beginning again. Is this, then the mystery of the oasis? Is our mind fooled by the trick in attaining, the perfect acceptance of it and the movement away without question, as naturally as the breeze from the desert air?

 

Universal truth is in seeing the oasis as a problem solver for weary travelers. No one ever would refuse the oasis. Who would look aside and travel around, side stepping such life-giving relief? A fool perhaps could somehow miss the opportunity that the oasis gives us for rebirth. What an unfortunate soul to not read the signs correctly and pass by a partial mile the salvation of his misery. But aren't we missing our oasis every day when we fail to reach out to one another? It is a diversion from our path when we do not think beyond the oasis. To travel, to suffer and to find relief is the simplest of endings, but we need to move beyond. The story never ended at the oasis, but was left unfinished for us to create for ourselves.

 

We want to only reach the waters, see the palms and hear the pleasant trickling of waterfalls and birds in show of life. We don't want to be responsible for the oasis, only to happen upon it. Who maintains this quiet, peaceful gratuitous scene? No one but God created it; a mystery in the world, a happening set-aside for only our relief, one person at a time. We laugh at the thought of a crowded oasis, like traffic jambs because in our minds it is a single experience, a solitude to find and enjoy. Oasis' aren't connected, no network or labyrinth or bed and breakfast index to look them up. The oasis is personal and quiet and so serene we whisper when we think about it.

 

He gave this thought to us, the oasis, the salvation and goal. He led us to the oasis, to experience the quenching of interminable miseries, of suffering and toil. Some believe, some don't. Some see, some haven't. The oasis doesn't have to have been reached to know it is there. The approach, the satisfaction and the movement beyond is key to our existence.

 

The parching of the throat, the dryness of the hands, the feet burning and blistered, all are evidence of human suffering. Scratches and bleeding pain and torture in moving forward when all odds seem against us. In our simple lives, what can compare to this desert trek? Little indeed comes close to those who have ever felt the fresh mist of the oasis, who in the sullen, crisp air have seen the shimmer and shine of the waters edge as it laps upon the perfect sands, warmed by days of hot sun. Can you imagine the trials you must suffer to reach the oasis? Have you worked sufficiently to call it your own? Who would say they have done all they can to deserve the golden touch of the mystery of the desert?

 

We know it is there, but have we given a thought on how to reach it? Are we only expecting to happen upon it by trial and error, through some dutiful term of default for having lasted as long? Will we work towards it and suffer for it? Have you felt the need to guide others toward it? What if you stood, just outside of the oasis and never reached it, but helped as a guidepost for others. Could you say you started an oasis of your own, a bridge between sun and sand? Would you soon see at your feet the trickle of the waters oozing out between your toes and the spring eternal? The promulgation of life and breath and satisfaction in reaching the oasis is yours today by moving forward, blindly into the desert. A helping hand, a prayer and step forward when slipping back seems easier guided by a faith that knows it is there.

 

– Mary E. Borra

July 27, 2000

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