The Door at the End by dragongirl

Bryce • Travel • posted on Mar 13, 2021

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No AI - This artwork was created entirely by hand or with traditional digital tools.

Description

Bryce - Spiralizer - Amorphium - All my own textures and models Jane’s Diary - The Sea of Glass Bones I’m starting the story at the End. The urge to return to this spot grows stronger every year. If for some reason my communications end abruptly, perhaps starting the story here will help you understand . . . Somewhere in the mazes of the Sea of Glass Bones, there is a Door. Faint sweet music pours out of the opening, irresistible and wild. The music seems to make you Want - it seems to promise something that you can only find - if you enter in. Something sweet, and good, and most dearly to be desired. The music Calls to you, sometimes even by name - pulling at you, drawing you in. Is it a portal to another dimension - another Reality? Scientists speculate. The spiritual ones among us Travelers, hope and wonder. But only one thing is known for certain - though many have stepped through it, none have ever returned. ——- For more stories from Jane’s Diaries - and the origin of Jane ‘s Diaries - click on Albums above - and choose the “Jane’s Diaries” Album.

Comments (36)

anitalee

3:05AM | Wed, 24 March 2021

Great work

anahata.c

2:43AM | Sat, 27 March 2021

there's an ancient hindu tale about a young monk who's called by the highest spirit---dwelling in a tree---who asks the monk to fetch it a pail of water. The monk, overwhelmed, goes to the river, meets a beautiful woman, falls deeply in love, and accepts her invitation to go home with her and meet her family.

He meets her family, they love him, the father offers him a job in his business, the monk takes it, marries his daughter, and succeeds at everything. They have children, get their own home, and the monk becomes a beloved member of the community. He gains many riches.

One day, a huge flood comes: He's awaked by a wall crashing down. He runs for his wife, but she's dead. He runs for his daughter: She's dead. Frantic, he runs for his son---his only other child---and finds him flailing in the waves for life.

So he grabs his son, clutching him dearly, whispering, "hold on, hold on," and swims out into the headwaters, which are now overpowering.

Desperate to steer them well, he accidentally lets go of his son, swims frantically to find him, but can't do it; His son is lost. So he swims aimlessly---now only protecting himself---and does it day and night until he's washed ashore, knocked unconscious, and is out for many, many days...

When he awakes, he's so overwhelmed by everything he lost---and feeling horribly guilty ("what have I done!" he cries)---that he decrees to take vows and become a monk again, never ever to speak. Ever.

He becomes known as the monk who never speaks. And everyone loves him, even though he can't love himself. He lives on grass and weeds and grows old...

One day, near the end of his days, he's lying under a tree, when a voice cries out from the branches: "My son, my son: Where's the water? I've been waiting half an hour..."

He was called by the music, he went in, he lived a whole life, and he never came out the same (ala your text). And, in the end, he discovered that all the light in the universe was there from the start...the door at the end was the door at the beginning...I have a feeling the beings in your realm would know that implicitly...

An image soaked in reds, and many dark reds. I love the 'glass bones', bones made of light rather than calcium etc, and they make a hall-of-mirrors, crystals of the cosmos. And a door that also looks like a being, and a prismatic reflection that makes us feel this place has many versions which appear as we walk a mere inch in any direction. Very intuitive piece, as always, Rose. I glanced at the other Jane pieces, and they look rich and opulent and mysterious. I'll try to return to them later on. I hope you're well, and holding up through strange times. Your inner life is alive as ever. I'm glad you've let a number of us in on it, it's always a beautiful journey...