"Every way
That you look in this city
There's something exquisite
You'll want to visit
Before the day's through!"
- "One Short Day," Wicked The Musical
Cue the dazzling lights, flashing proudly across the stage as your heartstrings leap to join the rhythm of the orchestra. The harmonies lasting just long enough for you to believe your ears have recorded them, your eyes widen in wonder trying to let in every detail. All of it builds to that one, final, glorious ending where your soul rises inside of you as the floor underneath your feet begins to feel peculiar. Chills run down your spine and the hair on your arms give a standing ovation. It's here... it's happening... the best part of every musical's title sequence. You can't help but smile, teary-eyed. The music gets louder, but not loud enough to drown out the pounding of your heart. And then...
Silence.
The song ends, and you are rudely transported back to reality. As the curtains close and scenes change, you realize that it wasn't really an emerald city after all, just an empty, wooden stage. You may think the fantasy ended with the curtain call, but it didn't. I truly believed in the Emerald City, and nearly 15 years later, sometimes I still do. In fact, if you're willing to keep a secret without questioning my sanity—I've been there. Many times. My last visit was what prompted me to write this.
My visit to the Emerald City began just as mesmerizing as one could possibly imagine. Everything you gazed upon looked to be within arm’s reach. The sights were intensely stimulating leaving your eyes in need of recovery. The sounds allured you to walk deeper into the heart of the city. Trumpets seized your attention so much so that you could not afford to be distracted for longer than a few seconds. Fragrances invited your gaze; you didn't have to work very hard to discern the source. And finally, the citizens. There is simply no other word to describe them other than perfect. Their warm greetings only added to their magnetic aura. You felt this urge to know them deeply. You wanted to be more than an acquaintance and belong to their world. In fact, you felt lucky to just be in their presence. Why would anyone want to leave? And yet, that is exactly what I did.
The outskirts of the city are indeed most enticing. So, I wouldn't blame you for thinking me a bit odd for leaving, but I had to for my own sake. And in telling you this story, I hope to caution you to never venture to this glorious city. That said, I'm not naïve, which means I know many of you have already visited. And once you go there, the temptation to return increases. If that scares you a little, it should. To truly convince you, despite all of my warnings to the contrary, I am going to take you with me. Consider this a "guided tour." Only this time, I will tell you the whole story.
We begin at the city gates. Almost at once, you notice something interesting—the gates are always open. As we walk in, I want you to take a closer look at what captures your attention first: the gleaming artefacts all within reach. But are they? Try to touch them. As you reach your hand out, confusion colors your face. Your fingers get so close, but never quite close enough. The objects of pleasure no matter how many times you try are always just far enough away that you can never touch them. I promise you; this is no cruel joke. You can keep trying, but to save you the heartache and frustration, we are going to move on.
Enter the orchestra. Our next stop on the tour starts right here. Can you hear the majestic trumpets? For now, they are a little faint, but as you take a step forward you can hear them getting a little louder. Let's follow them, shall we? What's fascinating is no matter what direction you turn, the sound becomes more prominent. It pleases your ears, so you walk further and further, trying to get to the heart of the sound. We have now been walking for a few minutes, and you are still not quite satisfied. How is it that the trumpets always seem like they need to be just one decibel louder? Let me stop you here. You could keep going but it would prove futile. You will never find the source. Just then, you notice the soreness in your legs. We've been walking for nearly half an hour. Time feels almost irrelevant here, doesn't it? Curiosity forms in your brows again as the air fills with intoxicating aromas. You turn your head to find creamy delicacies, fresh out of the oven, just waiting to be eaten. Almost immediately, hesitancy takes over. Will I be able to touch them? These are different... see? As I hand you a pastry, I look on with a hint of pity as you devour it. The pastry feels chalky and tough, becoming a burden to chew, so you gulp down what's left of it in disgust. I apologize for making you go through this, but if I simply told you how deceiving the treats are, would you have believed me? There is still one last thing I want you to see. Them.
They're why you're here, isn't it? Sure, the sights are captivating and the sounds magnificent, but they're the reason you really wanted to come. They all seem so regal, walking around in perfection. You admire their finery and how they carry themselves. They seem so friendly, "What could possibly be the problem here?" you demand in exasperation. My friend, that's just it. There is no problem. To you, they seem perfect. And if there's one thing we know, it's that perfection doesn't exist. Let me ask you a question... what is it you really want? "To get to know them, of course!" This conversation seems pointless, so you proceed to make a passerby's acquaintance. They are so articulate and engaging that you get lost in their charisma, paralyzingly mesmerized. In fact, you can hear your voice trail off and you're unable to respond to their simple questions. You begin to choke up, and you watch in dismay as they depart gracefully. That was a rough start, let's try that again. Same arresting conversation, and same pitiful ending. What in the world is going on here?! As tears well up in your eyes, you start to feel miserable. Your efforts to blink them away are futile. Anger rises inside of you, but for the life of you, you can't figure out why. May I interject here? I've been where you are, so before you have another conversation, let me ask you again... what is it you really want? Slowly but surely, you find your voice again and the words sting almost as soon as they leave your lips - "I want to be them." What's happening to you dear friend isn't insanity, it's resentment. You feel it, don't you? Every glance at their beauty, makes you feel ugly. Every admiration of their success makes you feel like a failure. Every reminder of their value makes you feel worthless. You don't want to simply get to know them, you want to be them. You want to be a citizen of the Emerald City, and deep down, you think it utterly unfair that you aren't.
I think it's time I took you back to the gates. There is a sign that is easy to miss, but something tells me you won't this time. As we make our way, you hang your head in shame, hiding the tears streaming down your face.
Alas, we've come to the end of our tour. It was a painful one, no doubt. But you realized in one trip what I took many visits to confront. The Emerald City truly is grand and exquisite, until it leaves you feeling like filthy rags with a gaping hole in your heart. And it will always leave you feeling that way because you don't belong here. You don't come to the Emerald City because you want hope, you come because you've lost sight of it. You come to the Emerald City to escape yours. You come to visit to make yourself feel worse, so that in some twisted way, you can take comfort that where you were before you entered was better. This is precisely why you always want to come back - when you think you've hit rock bottom, you go to the Emerald City to prove to yourself that you haven't. There is no "person behind the curtain" here, because the "person behind the curtain" is you. You're the reality that you must live with. While this may sound like a somber ending, I hope it is enlightening. You see, the Emerald City and its citizens are not worth visiting. But I know something in you will always want to, and I think I know why.
There really is a City that delivers on all its promises, but it's not here yet. And until we get there, we are always going to go after its counterfeit. If you're keen, let me tell you more about it on our way out of the Emerald City... and this time, how about we close the gates?
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