The Young Boy was awakened by the Sound.  Where was he?  How did he get here?  What happened?

Groggy, yet coming to, he wiped his eyes to see clearer.  Something hurt…actually, everything hurt, but that was the least of his concerns.  The Sound kept getting louder, or was it closer?  Or was it both?

Fearful, yet courageous, the Young Boy began to lift his body from the ground.  One foot, then the next, using his arms to push off the ground into a full stand.  Looking.  Straining.  Thinking.  Breathing.

How he got there, he simply couldn’t remember.  Yet, that Sound.  That Sound kept coming.  Lurking, approaching, darting this way, then that.  Squinting, the Young Boy peered through the mist to capture a glimpse.  Dare he step forward?  Dare his movement make a sound of its own?  He wagered the consequences in his mind.  He couldn’t stay.  He had to move.  He had to move forward.

One step, then the next.  Each step breaking the silence, each step causing trepidation and worry.  Clearing vines from his view, he continued his measured pace forward.  He stopped, just long enough to sense if the Sound was still there.  His ears fully engaged with the situation.  Still.   Silent.  A gentle breeze wafted through the trees.

Then, all of sudden, the Sound pierced the air!  The Young Boy leapt with startle.  He began to run.  Blazing a trail that didn’t exist, he put his arms up to protect his face from the passing leaves.  Forward.  Run.  Get ahead.  Get away.  The Sound was more than he could handle.  He mustn’t stop, he couldn’t break to catch his breath.  He needed to go, and go fast.

Glancing over his shoulder, he hoped against all hope that nothing was behind him, that nothing was following.  But for the vines and leaves, he couldn’t tell.  His lungs were ready to burst, his legs ready to give, but sheer will beckoned him on.

Then, he saw it.  Just ahead, off to the right.  A brightness.  A shining.  Perhaps a clearing in the distance.  He darted to the right hoping it’d lead to freedom.  Freedom from his forest prison.  Freedom from the unblazed trail.  Freedom from the Sound.

Closer now.  Just within reach.  He could see the opening.  He saw lush grass, followed by white sand, then blue ocean.  Dare he make it to the clearing, he’d be fully exposed to the Sound.  It was a risk he had to take.  He wanted out, he had to get out.

Bursting through the last of the trees, he stumbled into the thick bramble.  Grass waist high, he ran ahead, using his eyes to scan the horizon.  Then, to the left, he noticed a darker object.  Sweat cascaded down his face, his eyes stung from the salt.  Wiping his eyes one last time, he could make out a vessel.

Still running, more awkwardly now as the dense sand was under foot, he ran toward the vessel.  Could it be a fishing boat?  Could this be his escape?  Then, the hair on the back of his neck stood as he felt the presence of something behind him.  He dared not look behind.  He could sense it.  He knew it was there, he knew he might be within its grasp.

All he could do now is hope…and run faster.  With every ounce of will and fate within, he quickened his pace.  Praying he could reach the boat that was now within clear sight.  He saw a figure gathering a net just beyond the vessel on the shore.  Wanting to yell, wanting to scream, wanting to warn the Fisherman of his arrival, he knew better than to say a word for fear he’d alert the Sound of his location.

Now within a few yards, the Fisherman was startled by the Young Boy running toward him.

“Hello!?!?” he shouted.

The Young Boy positioned his finger in front of his lips to shush him.  Confused, the Fisherman shrugged his shoulders.  The Young Boy didn’t understand why the Fisherman wasn’t afraid.  It was obvious he was being chased.  Why didn’t he see the fright that followed him?  Finally, the Young Boy reached the Fisherman.

Calmly, the Fisherman asked, “Young Boy, what’s the matter, what are you running from?”

“The Sound.  Don’t you hear it?  Can’t you feel it?  Aren’t you frightened?  Don’t you sense it behind me?” declared the Young Boy.

The Fisherman chuckled, laid a hand on the Young Boys shoulder, and asked him to turn around.

“Look behind you.  There’s nothing there.  Why are you frightened?”

“There was a Sound, it was…it was piercing, it was real, it surrounded my very soul!  Yet, I don’t hear it now.  I can only hear the sound of the waves.  The breeze of the ocean.  I could swear it was there.  It was right there!  But now, it’s nowhere to be found.  What happened?”

Nodding, the Fisherman affirmed the Boy’s fears.  Yet, the Fisherman was old and advanced in years.  His weathered face told the tale of decades of struggle and toil to catch his fish, to make a living, to make him wise.

“Sometimes, Young Boy, I hear Sounds too.  They are frightening.  They send chills through my spine.  Yet, I’m reminded that we often suffer more from imagination than reality.  And often, the threat that once surrounded my soul turned out to be nothing more than a mist.  I’ve learned, over the years, that when those Sounds come, Sounds of envy and strife, those of unworthiness and despair, Sounds of anxiety and anger…I stop.  I reflect.   I breathe.  I think back to better times behind, and brighter days ahead.  I bring myself back up Above the Line, and resolve to live to fight another day.  Don’t let those Sounds ruin you, nor define you.  Instead, make your own Sound.  March to the beat of your drum of purpose and meaning.  Strum the ballad of your significance and values.  Compose the Magnum Opus of your desired life, of your desired future.

Don’t let the Sounds take you Below the Line.  Hush them.  They have no place in your life.  Say no to fear.

Instead, hum to the music of your purposeful life.  And write your symphony today.”