“A Warrior of the Light is never predictable.
She might dance down the street on her way to work, gaze
into the eyes of a complete stranger and speak of love at first sight, or
defend an apparently absurd idea. Warriors of the Light allow themselves days
like these.” – Paulo Coelho
Are you a Warrior of the Light? Someone who’s willing to
dream of angels and step into absurd ideas? Well, I am. This morning I awoke
thinking of angels and other things that some might call “woo woo.” I opened As I Lay Pondering, saw today’s title,
“To Be Known,” and asked myself what it would mean for me to be known right now
in this moment. Hmmm....
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| Norah & the Watchers |
Do you believe in angels? I do. They come in all shapes and
forms—furry, human, dreamlike. Arriving in streams of light, laughing children,
and a gentle touch. A stranger who appears and mysteriously vanishes. A
fleeting thought, prickly neck or tingly skin. One of my favorite “angels” that
shows up in both image and imagination is a curly-headed impish girl named
Norah (translated as Compassion). My old golden retriever, Curry, emerges on
occasion. And, of course, my purring companion, Aslan, is an everyday reminder
of otherworldliness in present form. My long-deceased father has appeared on
several occasions through music and nature; meeting me when I most need to hear
him. Real or imagined? Truth or fantasy? What do you believe?
Recently a man perusing my ponderings mentioned to his wife
that he thought I might be a little crazy. So be it. A warrior of the light
dances through the street and people either join in the dance, run the other
way, criticize, or pause and ponder. Which do you choose to do?
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| Curry Dog |
There is a place of stillness where everything connects,
disappears and comes into absolute clarity all at the same moment. I think of
the Bible story of Jacob wrestling with God and his dreams of the ladder going
up to heaven while angels ascended and descended. These kinds of stories have
been with us since the beginning of time. The question is... Are we willing to
believe? What happens when we slow down, step into stillness, and listen...
deeply listen? Will God speak? Do angels show up? Is it the result of an
overactive imagination or a mind running wild with thoughts and fantasy? Does
it matter? Will it be any less real if I can’t hold it in my hand or capture it
in a digital photo? Perhaps I am a touch mad, but today my mind returned to a
very real experience I had during a meditative time in Arizona this spring.
When I closed my eyes and the meditation began, our
moderator simply mentioned the word “stage” and I felt the spotlight shine upon
me. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had these longings since I was a little
girl. Do we all dream of being on the stage? Yes. No. Perhaps. I believe our
“stages” simply take on different forms. [Pause
and ponder: what your stage might be? You know, the one you see when you close
your eyes.]
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| Check out that Boa! |
Moving down the pathway of my mind, golden-haired Norah
greets me with her playfulness and compassion—her is-ness. In her unique way,
she invites me to simply be. Before me on the ground lay an apple that I witnessed
just before the moderator invited us to look up rather than down. There to my
right were grand marble steps leading upward to the stage. A brilliant curtain
crafted of magnificent red—the color and texture of my feather boa—reminds me
there is nothing insignificant about my essential self. She is meant to shine! (I
know this and yet I doubt it in my current mind... not the meditation).
Returning to the dream state, I am invited to leave Norah, my guide, at the
bottom of the staircase. I don’t want to take my journey without Compassion,
but Norah reminds me that she is always with me. All I need do is ask.
Moving up the stairway, I see a being with shoulder-length
hair. He glows with strength and light emanating from within. Before I can ask
his name, I know it is the Archangel Michael whose card lay “randomly” on my
chair before our session began. The Angel turns and points to the audience
spread before the stage. It is filled with adoring fans—people asking for my
gifts... my gifts... MY gifts. The people do not clamor. They simply stand before
Michael’s outstretched hands—before me—and wait. They snake around my viewpoint—like
the final scene in “Pay It Forward”—holding lights and waiting. They are honoring
me and know I have the gift to share with them. I am awed and honored
myself. Michael is brilliant before me and
he is part of me. Strength and courage. Like Norah, he will always be with me,
but especially during this time of the journey he is very near.
I sense him over my left shoulder now. His golden wings
gently wrapping around me as I write with my golden muse, Aslan, purring in my
lap. “Be you, my child. The world is waiting.” I feel it now and I heard it
then as he turned back to me and said, “The gift is you.” And in his hands lay
my gift to the world.
In that brief moment, I smelled the apples I had seen earlier.
The fruit of life. Tempting and forbidden. Hmmm. Fear creeps in. I was always
forbidden to shine. Forbidden to taste the fruit of my own knowledge. But here,
the sweet fruit has been broken open before me. I need only inhale—stop, pause,
breathe—and it will find me, surround me, and fill me with its fragrant aroma.
May this fragrance move me into the world with strength and tenderness;
compassion and love; Michael and Norah. There is no room for fear when all is
love.
Truth or fantasy? Real or imagined? Sane or inept? What do you
choose to believe? Where does your mind go when you turn to that deep place of
stillness where everything connects, disappears, and becomes clear in the same
moment?
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