Mirror Mirror

I slept last night. If I dreamt, I don’t remember. I woke up rested, with only an hour before it would be time to leave. If there is a word for how I felt, I don’t know it. Calm-excitement, peacefully-energized… Whatever I might call it, I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be.

I ate and drank my coffee, still debating what to bring with me. The Rainbow Lady hadn’t asked me to bring anything, but I felt as if I should have something of mine there.

A connection to something... A comfort item... Some kind of symbol or representation of
What?

I’d been thinking about it for days, and had vetoed every thought I had.

Fifteen minutes before I left home, I decided to draw cards. It was a spectacular draw.
Harmony, first.

"Let yourself be softer and more receptive now, because an inexpressible joy is waiting for you just around the corner. Nobody else can point it out to you, and when you find it you won't be able to find the words to express it to others. But it's there, deep within your heart, ripe and ready to be discovered."

Yes, that is definitely the issue of the day… harmony - with myself. And I have to figure it out myself. Interesting.
The internal influence – The Master
The Master the only card that has no number. The purple diamond of a Major Arcana sitting under the picture is the only designation.

"The Master in Zen is not a master over others, but a master of himself --and this self-mastery is reflected in his every gesture and his every word. He is not a teacher with a doctrine to impart, nor a supernatural messenger with a direct line to God, but simply one who has become a living example of the highest potential that lies within each and every human being. In the eyes of the Master, a disciple finds his own truth reflected. In the silence of the Master's presence, the disciple can fall more easily into the silence of his own being. The community of seekers that arises around a Master becomes an energy field that supports each unique individual in finding his or her own inner light. Once that light is found, the disciple comes to understand that the outer Master was just a catalyst, a device to provoke the awakening of the inner."

Divine guidance
The external influence was We Are The World
This is the fourth time I’ve drawn this card in the last four days. Four draws, and four times I had this card, and three of those times it was in this exact position – the external influence. Out of 79 cards… what are the odds?

"This card represents a time of communication, of sharing the riches that each of us brings to the whole."

What is needed for resolution? Nothingness.
Another Major Arcana
Drawing this card does not mean than nothing is needed… it means that there needs to be space, an opening, a place where there is room for something important to come in. That seemed exactly like what I needed – space for the missing pieces to return to.

The final card… the resolution… what would I get if I resolved this?
A third Major Arcana: Completion.

“Here, the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle is being put into its place, the position of the third eye, the place of inner perception.

Whatever has been absorbing your time and energy is now coming to an end. In completing it, you will be clearing the space for something new to begin. Use this interval to celebrate both - the end of the old and the coming of the new.”

Enough said.


I was very glad I’d drawn the cards. It felt as if all the signs were pointing in the same direction.
I decided to take the five cards I'd drawn, and the book with me. It was time to leave.

I was early. I parked a little ways away so I could walk a bit, but I was still early.
I paced in the lobby, went to peak at her door – slightly ajar.
What does that mean? Should I knock?
It was still a few minutes before eleven. I decided to wait.

It wasn’t long before she came out and found me. I followed her into the room, taking in the comfort of the space – white noise with soft birds’ sounds, sweet scented essential oils with floral undertones, soft light made softer as she pulled curtains over the window and  closed door.
She pulled a curtain over the doorway, making it feel safe... protected from the outside world.
She turned on soft music.
I moved cushions aside and sat in the deep couch, pulled the cards and book from my purse, and congratulated myself for not panicking.

I know how I am… in the car I was telling myself that I was going to “go for it.”
This is the exact phrase that had run through my head the day I did my Soul Declaration, back in November. Too often, I don’t make myself “go for it.” I hold back, I allow fear to keep me from saying what I want to say, being who I want to be.
I’d met the Rainbow Lady only once before, and I’d been tongue-tied and awkward as an eight-year-old. Here it was, only the “second date” and I was jumping into something that felt very personal and very important. The only way this was going to work was if I made myself do what I was going there to do – and that meant speaking up.

The soft light and the sense of being so separate from the rest of the world really helped. Even so, I was nervous as I first started to show her the cards I’d brought. I  asked her if she knew these cards.
She said she hadn’t seen this kind before… but she did have some other cards.
I’m still not sure what she thought of them, but she seemed receptive to what I was saying. She could tell I was excited about them, and she seemed to share my excitement. She said I could leave them where I'd set them out, if I liked.
I did.

Then she asked me some hard questions.
Maybe these would not be hard for everyone, but for me asking what makes me uncomfortable makes me very uncomfortable!
From what I’d written here about our first encounter, she gathered that I’d been uncomfortable with the long pauses. I would have to go back and see what I wrote… I don’t remember saying that, but most likely I did because I am uncomfortable with long pauses. I feel as if it is my job to fill them and that makes it hard to find any words inside my head except, "Say something!"
She asked if I had suggestions about the pauses... I didn't. There's no way not to leave space for people to say something, I guess... even if they have nothing to say. How can she know if I have anything to say if she doesn't leave space?

We also talked about how I’d reacted to the idea that, during the meditation, I would have to imagine going down ten flights of stairs. I know, my mind is pretty concrete about things, so that is probably part of why I felt a little panicky at that thought. In my mind, if I have to go down ten flights of stairs it means I am either up ten stories or I will have to descend ten levels underground. Neither of those appealed to me.

Maybe most people would not think about it so literally, but I think that is also part of my “hyper-vigilance” about knowing where I am. So many times I’ve awakened to find I didn’t know where I was, or even when I was… and I’ve felt responsible for myself since I was very young. These things make me feel as if it is important to know where I am, and if I am going to head down ten flights of steps, I guess I need a starting point.

She asked if the tower I’d created as a starting point, last time, felt safe.
I said yes.
Then she asked if I was ready.
(gulp)
Yes.

She dimmed the lights more and then began to talk me down the flights of steps. Again, I glanced out the windows I found at each level. I think she said something about seeing a number, but I’m not certain. At any rate, a number appeared above the windows at each level, indicating what floor I was on.

At the bottom, I felt excited. I knew that the bench and the purple meadow were just outside the door. When I stepped outside, I could see the flowers, the bench and the woods beyond. It felt like coming home. I could smell the lavender. I could feel the sun. It was peaceful, and more perfect than reality could provide.

I sensed the deer just beyond the first trees – not just one, but several – but I could not see them. I understood they were going to stay back and let me find my own way, this time.

She said something...
A hill?
I knew there was no hill near the purple meadow. Regardless, just as the water that had appeared the last time I was in this idyllic space, I understood that there was now going to be a hill. I turned, and there it was, rising up behind the trees.
I followed a path to through the woods and then started up the hill.
A… crystal mountain?
This was harder. I felt so relaxed and calm that I didn’t panic, but I did wonder how a crystal mountain could suddenly be there –
But she said it would be there, and it appeared to be true. I reached the top of the hill, and saw a path leading up the side of a beautiful crystal mountain.

As I climbed the path, she had me put down a heavy backpack, and a little later, another pack. I can’t remember what they had in them… but it made perfect sense at the time. I left the packs behind and continued my ascent.

At the top, surrounded by enormous spires of crystal, there was a castle. When I looked beyond the mountain and the castle, nothing else seemed to exist – just an indigo sky. The castle walls were sturdy and thick. The door was huge, heavy, and strong. I looked at the pointed arch above my head, at the metal studs that lined the edges of the doorway…

whatever is behind this door is safe and secure.

Even so, I was sure the door would open, for me. I pushed it just a little, and it opened right up.
I waited to see what she would say next with quiet anticipation. This entire time, the excited-calm had stayed with me. Expectation – a child running down the stairs on Christmas morning – wrapped up in amazing peace.

And then she said,
"In this room, you’ll find a mirror."

I don't know why the idea scared me so much. I had a sudden nightmare sense -
the mirror won't be there
the mirror will be there
Why does that scare me so much?
The mirror appeared
An antique, full-length oval in a metal stand, right in the middle of the room

I edged towards the mirror...

Journey to the Safe Place

The room smelled sweet. Soft white noise blocked out the world. Pillows covered the white plush sofa. She pulled a curtain over the door, and another over the window, closing the space off from the outside.

I sat down. We talked for half an hour, her asking, me trying to answer. There were uncomfortable pauses that I felt I should fill.
Mostly, I didn’t.
I knew that if I tried too hard to find something to say, all the words would leave and be replaced with the panicky fog.
I waited to be asked.
I answered as best I could.
It was good enough.

When I dared, I looked at her face.

Calm – no, serene.

There was no rush there, no expectation, no judgment.
It felt right… as it should be… as I’d hoped it would be.

And then she talked about finding a safe place.

I was told I would have to walk down ten flights of steps. This was a little disconcerting. Either I was up ten stories – not something I enjoy – or I was going to descend to an underground cavern. The thought of going deep into the ground made me feel like I couldn’t breathe.

I closed my eyes, lulled by soft music.
She spoke.
I had to choose.

I was in a round tower. I told myself it was safe, strong and secure. No one else was there. In front of me was the arch of an open window. I couldn’t see too much, but I knew I was high above the ground. I wasn’t yet certain what was down below. I found myself wanting to approach the window, but I was afraid to, being up so high. It made my hands and feet tingle as heights always do.

It was time to head down the winding staircase. I ignored the numbness in my hands and feet and walked down the first flight of stairs. I rounded a bend and saw an identical arched window. Outside it was bright and the sky was summer blue.

After descending another flight, I found another arched window. I got a little closer. Below I saw green grass with lavender patches spread out in the sunlight.

It's the purple meadow!

I knew the bench was there, but I couldn’t see it yet.

It must be directly below me, near the tower.

Another flight down and then another. From the sixth floor, I was even with the tops of the tallest trees that surrounded the meadow. I remembered being in the meadow - the one in the real world. I remembered how exhilarating it had been the first time I stepped out from the trees and saw the open space surrounded by trees and covered in grass and lavender. Anticipation turned the memory to reality. I hurried down to the next level.
Half way down. No time to stop at the window.

Safe, protected, warm, inviting.

Fourth floor.
Third floor.
I had to see if the bench was there. On the second floor, I paused, hands on the window ledge. Leaning out a little, I could see the bench. My clipboard and pen were there, waiting.

The bench in the purple meadow

(taken during my private retreat last month)

Only one more flight to go. Down the steps, around the bend...

At the bottom, I found an arched doorway where the windows had been. The door was open. A warm breeze wafted in.

Lavender.

I stepped into the light, heat radiating on my face. I walked to the bench and put both palms on the seat, feeling the warmth of the sun on its surface.

The Purple Meadow

(Taken during my private retreat, last month)

Sitting, I looked around at the blooming meadow. Like a waiting friend, a deer took a step toward me, moving halfway out of the woods beyond the meadow.
I smiled at her welcome.

I reached down to run a hand over the tops of the blooming lavender, feeling the caress of their soft petals on my palm. The breeze moved my hair against my face.

So safe and warm, so incredibly comforting...

When I looked up, the deer had come close. Cautiously, I reached a hand out to stroke the side of her face. The instant I touched her, she stared into my soul.
It was intense.
Strength and knowledge, love and wisdom emanated from the moist and dark-brown depths of those eyes.

Leaving my body behind, safely seated on the bench, I stood up and walked with the deer. She led me across the meadow to a pond I hadn’t seen before. Pushing aside the tall grasses and cattails, I stepped to the edge and looked at my reflection in the glass-like water. I was beautiful; ageless, knowing, light, and unafraid.
In my eyes I saw determination.

I don’t have far to look to find myself.
I am here.
I’ve always been here.
I’ll always be here.

“When I count to five…”

It was so unexpected, so sudden.

“One”

I was swept back into my body.

“Two”

The deer watched me from the edge of the forest.

“Three”

I rose from the bench and turned towards the tower, but already it was losing substance, wavering, fading before my eyes.

“Four”

I closed my eyes, locking the vision of the meadow behind my lids. I felt the gaze of the deer on my back and I knew it would always be there.
Watching… guiding…

“Five”

I opened my eyes.
Blink.
Blink.
I was back in the room with the pillows, the sweet scent, the white noise…

Back to the real world.

Or is it?

*****

(Here are two computer drawings I did this afternoon.

I posted these a few hours after putting the rest of the post up.)

Seeing the Pond

Reflection