REST PART 2: ACCEPTING THE CLOAK

REST

I step into my morning meditation, remembering Storyteller Tree’s words:  “Just go inside.” Without effort or traveling, I am on the island standing in front of Tree.  Tree tells me, “Go inside fearlessly.”  Forgive us our trespasses….  I sink through the layers of fear– are there regrets? – into a place of fearlessness.  I am home.

I say to Tree, “You told me once that you are me.  Will I lie down next to you or will I lie down contained inside you, one with you?  Who are we?”

“Ah, just rest, child, all will be revealed.  Just rest.”

I lie down next to Tree, not completely settled.  I look up and a small blonde girl dressed in a white robe approaches silently.  She raises her arms, wordlessly asking to be held.  I pick her up, embrace her, and we lie down in the soft grass under the arms of Tree.  I glance around, looking for my friend, Peacock.  I have missed him.  I ask Tree where he is.  As I ask the question, Peacock slowly emerges into form next to me as if always there.  I lay my head on his brilliant blue body, the little girl cradled in my arms.  We rest at the foot of Tree.

ACCEPTING THE CLOAK

Little One and I lay resting at the foot of Tree.  The last thing I remember before drifting off to sleep was looking up at Tree’s gnarled gray-brown trunk, his soft wizened eyes gazed down at us, our guardian.

We slept – I don’t know how long - but it was the deepest, sweetest sleep I have slept in forever.  I was awakened by the faint sound of leaves rustling.  …leaves?  How was that possible?  Tree had no leaves.  He was a wonderful, barky old soul.  His parched hard exterior belied the softness within.

Curious, I opened my eyes.  What could be making that sound?  When I saw what I saw, I thought that Little One and I must have been transported to a new land as we slept.  Peacock was gone.  Could he be playing tricks on us?  But no….I looked across the beach and saw that it was the same beach.  Joy Fish splashed and played in the water across the sand.  The island was the same….but….Tree?  How could it be explained?  Gnarled gray Tree was different.  Tree had transformed, no longer covered with crumbling old bark, but with smooth, plump skin.  Tree’s branches had grown a canopy of huge green leaves, our verdant umbrella.  Tree’s kind eyes were still there – the blueness more intense now.  It seemed that Tree had drunk in all the water from deep within the Earth as we slept.  Even Tree’s voice had changed as he …she?...(the voice was so different now) spoke in even warmer, softer tones than before.

“Rest.”

And as Tree spoke, green leaves gently swirled down, their fingers gently caressing Little One and me.  I felt their healing touch everywhere at once.  Each leaf was trailing a fine golden thread.  Gently, lovingly, the leaves were weaving a shimmering golden blanket around us as we rested on the ground.

“What is this?” I asked Tree.  I spoke softly.  Little One still slept and I did not want to wake her.

“This is the Cloak of Finding God.”

A cloak?  Finding God?  “Where do I look?  How do I search?”

“Rest for now.  In time you will see.”

RITUALS

RITUALS

I have a question for Storyteller Tree.  I want to know the story of the girl who was given the Magic Armor.  I know that I must travel to the island.  I go to the beach to find my boat.  What will it be this time? 

As I approach the water I see a Viking ship, sharply ornamented, adorned with serpentine figurehead.  I climb on the vessel; this is a far cry from the simple little rowboat I first used to visit my island.  I sail over a gray, nondescript sea.  Somehow I have found a suit of armor and have covered myself with it.  When I reach the island I clamber off the boat, armor clanking.  Peacock seems amused at my predicament.  I tell Peacock that I want to hear the story of the Little Girl’s Magic Armor and I thought that I would dress the part when I went to visit Tree.  Peacock’s eyes sparkle knowingly. 

Peacock and I start our island ritual.  It is how we prepare to meet Tree.  We climb the rocks through the jungle to the hut at the top of the cliff.  I see delicate greenish-white flowers along the path but my armor does not allow me to bend to enjoy their scent.  I stumble and fight my way to the top of the path.  When we reach the hut I am exhausted from the climb and collapse in a corner, too tired to sit in front of the hut and enjoy the view.  

Peacock gives me time to rest, and then it is time to visit the waterfall below.  I slip and slide down the hill, ending up in a pile of metal at the bottom of the slope.  I manage to pick myself up off the ground.  I know that the next step in our ritual is to stand under the waterfall.  I wade out into the water and stand beneath the falls.  From inside the armor I hear only echoes of water splashing.   I barely feel the cold through the metal plates on my body.  Do I feel at all?

We will go to visit Fish next.  I stumble down the overgrown slope and find the water where Fish play.  I know that they are there, I have played with them before, but right now I cannot feel them swirling around my legs.  I cannot feel their Joy.  The armor protects me.   Nothing will harm me.  I will feel nothing.

It is time to see Tree.  Peacock silently accompanies me.  I stand before Tree and ask him to tell me the story of the Little Girl’s Magic Armor.    “Ah, my child, you are not ready yet.  You need to wear your armor a while longer.  It is meant to be.  You need it now.” 

“But how will I remove it?  Must I wear it forever?”

“I will remove it in time.”

I am relieved when Tree tells me that I will stay in my armor for now.  I am tired from my journey and there is no energy for changing.  I sit for a time on the sand near Fish and rest.

When Peacock and I start our journey back to the other side of the island, the path to the waterfall seems easier somehow.  I am more aware of Peacock next to me than I was before.  Warmth flows from deep inside me.  I hear Tree’s voice telling me that the armor will melt from the inside…in time.

We stop at the waterfall.  This time, when the water falls on me, I feel several drops trickle down inside the suit of armor.  The water is fresh, clear, soul-quenching.

We leave the waterfall and start the climb to the hut.  I see that Peacock has given me a rope to use.  Was it always there?  I hold onto the rope and I am lifted effortlessly to our hut.  I am not tired.  I sit in front of the hut with Peacock and we take in the view.

On the return to the beach where my boat sits, I tumble down the hill; somersaulting and laughing.  I land on the soft sand of the beach.  I do not want to board my boat…there is no need to travel yet.  I lie on the soft sand next to Peacock and rest.

REST

REST

I step into my morning meditation, remembering Storyteller Tree’s words:  “Just go inside.” Without effort or traveling, I am on the island standing in front of Tree.  Tree tells me, “Go inside fearlessly.”  Forgive us our trespasses….  I sink through the layers of fear– are there regrets? – into a place of fearlessness.  I am home.

I say to Tree, “You told me once that you are me.  Will I lie down next to you or will I lie down contained inside you, one with you?  Who are we?”

“Ah, just rest, child, all will be revealed.  Just rest.”

I lie down next to Tree, not completely settled.  I look up and a small blonde girl dressed in a white robe approaches silently.  She raises her arms, wordlessly asking to be held.  I pick her up, embrace her, and we lie down in the soft grass under the arms of Tree.  I glance around, looking for my friend, Peacock.  I have missed him.  I ask Tree where he is.  As I ask the question, Peacock slowly emerges into form next to me as if always there.  I lay my head on his brilliant blue body, the little girl cradled in my arms.  We rest at the foot of Tree.

STORYTELLER

STORYTELLER

February 29, 2012

I stand on the familiar beach facing Storyteller Tree.  “What is happening?” I ask.  “Why do I have cancer?”

“Your heart is opening.  There is so much love around you and you have not fully received.  It is an old pattern of yours.  When you’re hurt you shut a door on your heart.  You have protected yourself with so many doors.  But now you are safe.  The doors are only blocking the love-light.  Receive it.  Be in it.”

I feel the tight knot in my chest begin to release.  “How do I open the doors?”  I ask. 

“I will do that.” Storyteller replied.  

“But there is pain when the doors open.  There is grief that there was never time to feel.”

 “Just go inside and you will not feel the pain.” 

“How do I go inside with the pain there on the outside?”  I am anxious.

 “Just be.  You will know.”

I go – inside?  Where is inside?  There is no “where”; there is no “inside”.  I expand.  I am.  Energy flows without form.  

When it is time to go I ask Storyteller, “How can I be open to others?  When I go back to my day, how do I open my heart?” 

“Just remember.” 

“Remember what?  My feelings?  This moment?” 

“No.  Remember the Beginning.” 

“Was there a Beginning?”  I ask.

 “Always….always Beginning.”

I breathe in the pure white light of healing.  Beginning…

A NEW JOURNEY

LABYRINTH

Incarnation Center

Ivoryton, Ct

February 26, 2012

Who am I?  I don’t know how to travel this path.  I stand at the edge of the labyrinth and I don’t know how to enter.  The field of stones lies ahead.  The path is not clear-cut; the stones marking the way are cluttered in bunches.  The sun waits to rise over the trees and an empty red barn sits at the foot of the hill.

Where do I start?  There is no clear entrance.  How do I start?  I know that I must begin and I do, with clumsy feet.  I step over rocks, wondering where the paths are.  As the gravel crunches under my feet I notice four donkeys, two black and two gray, emerging from the barn.  I am not alone.

I accept that there is no clear path to the center of this labyrinth.  It is up to me to create my own way around the bumps and rocks that lie ahead.  I know that I will reach the center and that it is my choice how long it takes.  How far I travel in circles and turns is my decision and mine alone.

I step over a rock painted to look like a strawberry and I think of the child who painted the cheerful picture during summer camp.  It is a bright spot on my path.  I step over several piles of donkey dung.  My friends at the foot of the hill have stopped staring and are going about their business as I walk the path.

The sun rises over the trees as I reach the center.  The Lord is my shepherd… Our Father…  God, grant me the serenity…  Mantras repeated…  I stand at the center and breathe in the frosty morning air.  The two black donkeys have returned to the barn; the two gray donkeys move peacefully below.  I close my eyes and feel God’s light and love – fire-light – filling me.  I stand in a column of light.  I love standing here.  I am love standing here.  I am free to stay in this column of pure love-energy.  It has form and no form.  It is sheer healing power, and always here.  It is God’s grace. 

After some time I take a breath and spin around the crazy path a few times, making my way to the endpoint where I began.  A hot cup of coffee sounds good right now.  I return to my room and start a new journal.  On the front page I write:

Patti B.

Cancer – a journey

My journey