Transcript

I’m Major Jackson and this is The Slowdown.

On the Greek island of Serifos, Didi and I drive to Megalo Livadi, a pristine beach that we hear is sparsely populated. My heart is in my throat as I navigate our rental car up steep rugged slopes. It is a journey which requires us to ascend a mountain, on a narrow road, with no barriers to prevent a vehicle from descending—well, careening over the edge. I drive slowly. The views are stunning; turquoise waters cupped inside beach coves, terraced landscapes, iconic white stucco homes cascading down a hillside. It’s a full-on postcard view of the Cyclades that is breathtaking but, right now, very dangerous.

The fear of plunging below beacons me to the worst possible situation: failing brakes or a head-on collision with a beachgoer whose day-drinking has them lose control. I am mortified.

We come upon a monastery. Didi asks, Are you okay? I say yes, but she knows… my silence, my black-knuckled grip, my intense stare ahead. We enter the church and gaze at images of Serifos’ patron saints, Saint Michael and Gabriel. She says we should go back down. I say no; I’m loving the adventure. She knows.

Why do I wish to ascend further up this mountain, despite my fears? My sense of ambition exceeds my sense of caution, as if the adrenaline-fueled experience is going to deliver me to some greater incarnation of myself, a portal to another Major who isn’t afraid, who will soon lay on a beach in the fullness of an incandescent sun knowing he’s conquered a fear.

In today’s poem, a harrowing car ride spawns questions of meaning and purpose, and the possibilities of our cosmic connections in the face of that which is unknown.

Parallel Worlds
by Lester Graves Lennon

                                    (Driving the Pacific Coast Highway)

I’m driving down the ocean’s coastline edge
with too little room for safety. On my left
the mountain with our fourteen billion years
of star-stuff history. On my right the void, 
the darker night where our nights would have been
two hundred billion years from now when light 
from most galaxies no longer reach that point.
My car accelerates. My fingers grip 
the steering wheel attempting comprehension
of a universe accelerating faster
than light, expanding us to a place where
no suns can shine in worlds of frozen stones.
I must slow down. Fear’s dizzying black hole
opens. I cannot look upon this future
without the urge to cross the edge in greeting.
I inch down dreading headlights in my rear 
view mirror, brilliant like a supernova,
pushing me to speed I cannot control.
I pump the break and pump my mind for questions.
The first and last: Why we are here? My answer:
to find and measure what we cannot measure.
The sweat is here. I keep the scream from screaming.
A theory known as Parallel Worlds says 
our universe may lead to other worlds. 
I fight the swerve into the ocean’s pull.
In a universe of infinite expansion
through time that has no final measure, where
is the impossible not possible,
with possible signs hidden in equations 
shared across worlds pointing to our connections.
I find the turnout, turn back, pointing up.
Hugging the mountain, I take the long way home.

“Parallel Worlds” by Lester Graves Lennon from LYNCHINGS: POSTCARDS FROM AMERICA, © 2021 Lester Graves Lennon. Used by permission of WordTech Communications, LLC.