". . . THE FEAR OF FEAR ITSELF MUST BE OVERCOME BEFORE THE REST CAN BE FOUND," came the potent words from the Master, his lips unmoving, his stare directed at me as I looked at him now; and I suspected that his appearance, somehow out of place (and time), somewhat reflected my own. But his fiery eyes! "IMAGINATION PROJECTED UPON DOUBT IS THE BREEDER OF FEAR!" stormed my guides unspoken revelation, and an all-too-familiar piercing pain turned my stomach, set it ablaze, and instantly I was transporting to another realm . . . [—A.A.]
The vaguely familiar came pounding on down, somersaulting over itself, rapidly approaching from afar. Frail, though, faded-looking it was upon first notice, but transforming still as wave upon wave of distant, blurry landscapes—on the horizon—drifted closer, seemingly soon to surround me. And quickening, a massive roiling cloud of unrest round its edge, the familiar drew ever closer, looming larger, and brighter; then it hovered a moment . . . as if the blur was about to come clear. Suddenly (blowing by me with Great Speed!), I felt its awesome force, is true velocity and its unmanifest nature: a fragmented-multitude lost to a vision unrealized in the recall-of-memory of some long-forgotten dream.
And a second wave approached. Nebulous. And a third. All Light. And in a heartbeat they both struck home— ("Keep an eye on him, Cratchit! I'll be back . . .") And as I felt through their impact, I could see within The Light a vast, vaporous scene. (The Mists.)
I had, unknowingly for a moment (but there within full realization now, nonetheless!), accessed once again the luminescence of the haze, the miasmic fog, the mists . . . an awakening memory, in part, I should think. And as I stepped back into The Mists and re-stood the trail, I wondered how long till the two practices would (or could!) become one. Ah, male and female together in true harmony.
"Ahhhh, The Fires of True Love . . ."
The Mists parted, and the image beyond loomed distantly familiar. But the "maids" in residence there, and their teachings, were as nebulous to me as The Mists themselves. And the moving image—the Blackwater Well; a low stone wall west; moorland beyond; the sun quickly setting. Blue sky. Pink sky. Purple . . . twilight. Two women kneeling, one robed in emerald green, one in brown, more in grey, on a trail, coming closer, armed with branches, setting them down, mixing them up, striking a match, holding it high, looking my way— But the moving image soon faded, for I could not as yet uphold it, and I reluctantly acknowledged that all was in Order.
Order (so it seemed) was about to initiate another lesson.
The Light within moved me again. And as the trail I followed phased . . . realization came fully into being. "Fire! Ahhhh! Now I remember!" The magnetism of fire had me totally engulfed in an entrancing stare as rotely I placed the last pieces of DEADWOOD into the flame. Fire.
"Fire, walk with me," came my unsullied solicitation as I found myself sitting cross-legged, quite pleased (and relieved) now that I'd finally identified my reality, right here before the fiery blaze. You see, I would often spend time here in Fire's warmth, gazing into it and reflecting on my life, as I did now . . . discovering the ball-of-light and the tunnel-of-terror . . . walking the Wood and its mystery . . . visiting the Old School and hearing the words of the Master. And the Lady in green, and her students in grey. And right here, right now . . . feeling the warmth of fire and the cool of air. Reflection into these things, at this time, seemed to be the order of my day, preparing me for the next phase of new experience, I should imagine.
..........................
I awoke with a start—the last rays of Sun were disappearing below the horizon. I had to get back. "Wasting your time, wandering about out there daydreamin' your life away," was the last thing I needed to hear from Pa. Not now. (No, sir!) Ma . . . though. She was a pole apart. She understood my wanderings. There was special light in Ma's eyes always reminding me my destiny was alive in her dream. But she couldn't back me up. But I realized this, young as I was; I realized Ma had to stand by Pa. I realized too (although usually under protest!), that Pa was like a strengthening-agent toward my greater purpose—save, I wasn't quite sure how. Still, I seldom saw things this clearly. Often I would revert to default-mode and fight fire with fire. "But my Pa-experiences should be useful!" I decided. Aloud. Then calmed myself down. Way down: "Maybe one day soon I'll understand . . ." and I thanked God for Ma's expertise at discreetly throwing water onto the fire that Pa often shelled-out.
YOU ARE READING
The Seventh Direction
AdventureA spiritual, mostly fictional adventure, which takes place in both the 3rd and 4th dimension . . . and perhaps occasionally in the 5th. Under the umbrella of Mother Earth---School of Learning, Freewill Zone---the story, rather than looking at us as...
