The Essence of Belief is Reality

The cool breeze made soft, rustling sounds as it gently kissed the trees above the pond. I often came here as a young girl. The first pond, as we called it, was nestled in the woods between our homes. My best friend and I would often take this route as a short cut whenever we visited one another, which was nearly every day. The second pond was closer to my girlfriend’s house, but I seldom stopped to look at it. The edges were overgrown with brush, and it just didn’t seem to hold the same appeal as the first pond did. For me, the pond was a place of self-discovery and healing. There was somehow a certain familiarity about this place that I never quite understood; but for whatever reason, it was there. I once heard someone say “familiarity cures many things” and this was the spot that cured mine. I found solace in the quiet sanctuary of the pond’s embrace.

Years later, on this day as with many others, I found myself longing once again for the comforting safety of that same pond. I had returned once before with my then three-year-old daughter. She shared the same passion for nature as I did so I thought she would enjoy visiting the place where I spent most of my time growing up—the pond. But to my astonishment, it was gone. The pond itself was actually still there but no longer resting within its peaceful, wooded setting. In place of those long-standing oaks, poplars, and pines now stood newly built home sites.

“Why are you crying, Mommy?” For a moment I was lost in thought, dazed by the reality before me. “Mommy” she kept saying as she pulled on my arm. “Why are you crying?”

My little girl’s words quickly snapped me back and I picked her up, forcing a half-smile, and hugged her tight. “It’s alright, Leena Beena, mama’s just a little sad. I really wanted you to see the pond in the woods, but the woods are all gone.”

“That’s okay, Mommy. The trees didn’t take the pond. See, look!” I managed to get a chuckle in. She was right after all, the pond was still there.

Now as I sat there thinking of that day I couldn’t help but hear my own mother’s words playing over and over again in my head like a broken record. “The essence of reality is belief.” What the heck does that mean; I thought when she first said it. At that time I was only twelve or thirteen, and reality for me was that life was hard. Even once I had grown up and moved out on my own, life was hard, but those words: “the essence of reality is belief” never left my thoughts. Those words, though I never quite understood their meaning, kept me believing in myself, providing the courage I needed to keep on going. Reality, the pond was still there, only different. Reality, I was still here, only different.

Although I had freed myself years ago from their devilish hands, I could never get far enough away from the demons that followed. The rage and inner torture spread through my body like a disease. I could no longer find solace in the lulling waters of the pond. Instead, starving myself became the cushion of comfort during the numerous self-pity parties that I held. It was because of them, the monsters, that I was so protective of my baby sister when we were younger. I wouldn’t let anyone violate her childhood as they had mine. I’m every bit as protective of my own little girl now. I wanted to tell my mother, make them pay for what they had done to me, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell her how they had touched me. I couldn’t tell her how they had ridiculed me. I couldn’t tell her how all of those events may have led to the rape when I was only fourteen years old. I couldn’t tell her; I was too afraid and too ashamed. It’s been my secret now for over twenty years.

The pond is gone now, or at least the comfort that it brought, but the demons remain. I have asked God if they will ever leave me. As of yet, there’s been no reply. My daughter may never experience the sweet embrace from that place of beauty; and hopefully, if I’ve done a good enough job, she will never find herself facing any demons of her own. If only I had the courage to tell my mother so long ago, maybe I could have prevented what happened, maybe not. As I think back on it now, I can still hear my mother’s words. “The essence of reality is belief,” she had said. I should have believed more in her, and I’m sorry that I didn’t, Mom. I’m sorry it took so long to find meaning in your words.

Reality is the belief that I will be ok. Maybe that’s been God’s answer all along.