The vessel shifts in its embodiment of the ocean that gently touches its sides, surging it, urging it, forwards.
The purple sides of this vessel stretch to point at its bow, where it crests the waves. This point also carries a compass of light, that gives it direction.
Upon this craft sits a single figure, poised before a book of sacred words, chants, and knowledge, and this consciousness alone directs this craft, to voyage to far off destinations.
There is a purpose to its movement, and yet it seems to dance upon the waves with ease of motion. The swell lends itself to this journey and even the birds sing to the melody of the prayers that are spoken and the luminescent thoughts that are carried to the heavens, asking for Divine direction.
The heavens answer, through glimmers of light cast upon the ocean surface that appear as a pathway of stars that lead beyond the horizon.
The lone figure now knows that his work of invocation and consciousness creation is complete. He rests now, leaning against the side of the vessel, and looks out towards that which the heavens have created—that lies before him, sparkling on the ocean surface.
He rests within the peace of his heart and in the enjoyment of each star of light that passes by, as he and his vessel follow the golden pathway of light to a destination that is unknown, but that is written in the stars.
A feather pen flickers in the lamplight, that illuminates the pages set on the desk. The feather's tip, filled with ink, scratches its impressions on the scroll laid before it. The shafts of light play on the feather's wings that dance as an angel against the wall that is illuminated by the light.
A chart is being drawn, by old hands that are wrapped around the feather's stalk. The sketching of degrees, numbers, circles with circles, stars within stars and planetary constellations, soon appear on the papyrus.
Then, a voice reverberates throughout this room, that startles the scribe-astrologer. The voice emanates from an actual angel, arc angel, who stands before this withered old man.
The angel says, "You have worked this chart before, many eons and lifetimes ago. It is the star-child whose chart you craft, and this child has come in many generations, as many great teachers. All are born of one consciousness, of one light, Buddha, Mohammed, Krishna, Christ...; all are called by the one star of light, of origin, and they chart their course in the same direction, as the stars have foretold. They bring awakening to man, they bring light into darkness and consciousness to unconsciousness. But, most of all that star, crafted by your pen, predicts the star of love that has always been given and that is born again, as this world is ready to open and to receive its love.
(Buddha Photograph, from istockphotos.)
The flames touch and reach the cauldron's base, heating the flames of light and creation within her. The elements melt and merge, forcing a fusion—as if directed by the magician's wand—turning the substance within from base metals to the alchemist's gold.
A breeze moves through an open window, and its waves of coolness are added to the divine mixture. The liquid begins to congeal and starts to solidify; before this process is complete, the mixture is poured into a long shallow mold. Again, the breath of the wind is invited to flow along the surface of this elongated form, and it cools this new creation.
After some time has passed, the spiritual warrior shifts and works free the mold that has held this new form, and holds forth the blade of a golden sword. She uses this to cut a small lock of her hair, that she then feeds to the fire, and she thanks the elements that have tended this creation—her sword of truth that was formed by the gold of Spirit.
Her lips pursed, as if waiting to be kissed by the wind and salted air—that gently presses against her face, as the ship cuts through the waves, and marks her final voyage. The soft light, that dances upon the waters before her, glistens with the hope of a the new land that awaits her, a place that also represents an inner terrain that she must explore.
Fascinated by the horizon illuminated before her, she also allows herself to take a sigh of relief, as she drops the last burden of what has been, and is freed at last from the ponderings of a path that she once scrutinized for answers.
Now, she recognizes that all answers lie before her, and the past is like sand that has been sifted for the thousandth time, and all of jewels, that those grains contained, have already been recovered. Now she must look beyond her previous experience towards something new, that can mirror to her an ever-emerging light. She must be daring enough to step outside of the box, and let her fire take on its own life. The setting sun now rages in the sky before her and wills her to follow its lead and dissolve beyond the horizon of the familiar, and shed its light on ever more distant lands, that it discovers at world’s end.
Like a hand above the fire—of the setting sun—a new land greets her. As she reaches the harbor, she is ready to disembark onto the terrain of a new field of experience.
A few harbor lights, spotted here and there along the walkway, invite her, like faeries, into the approaching dusk and natural rugged terrain. There is little daylight left to play with, and yet she must make her ascent to her final destination of the day, that is perched above the harbor—a small domed building, that reflects the last rays of daylight.
As she reaches this domed structure, she touches the soft granite of an open doorway, and taking a deep breath ventures within. The entrance room is draped with a forest of chiffon and silk curtains, descending from the infinite, and provides a labyrinth that she makes her way through, to reach the large meeting room that is revealed through the parted veils.
As large as this room is, it holds presence for just one being who is sat in the distant corner by an open fire. He seems to be in deep contemplation, and she is reticent to disturb his deep quiet. So she sits on a pile of cushions, sat at a little distance before him, and it seems as if this soft thrown has been prepared for her arrival.
Knowing that words would be like coarse sand cast upon a still lake, she sits and joins this great ancient-one, in the realm beyond words—in the silent reality of love and serenity. She feels a door opening within, that seems to gesture and welcome her to an ocean of silence, a place of deep love. As she observes a last murmurings of her mind's activity and limitation, she accepts the invitation to merge with the silence.
"Let go….. let go…… into love and receive…." Are the only thoughts that impress upon her now, as she relaxes and feels a change takeover her. She succumbs to her own true nature. "Stop doing, stop achieving, and be still. Drink of the cup of love within your soul, within the light of All-That-Is. Stop seeking answers, and the answers will come." an inner voice compels her.
And then she finds her true Self emerging...
She finds her Self within an inner landscape, sat upon the shore of a silver light-filled ocean. Her breath slows to the sounds of the gentle waves, as she sit before the infinite. There is nowhere to venture, no-thing that she has to be. There is simply peace moving into greater depth of stillness. She feels an embodiment of that wise meditating being, and within her vision, she sees him stood beside her. He places a golden shawl around her, and sits with her, in contemplation of the beauty of the infinite that stretches out before them.
As her open hand rests upwards upon her knee, he places a star at its center, and shares the thought: "Remember who you are, your point of origin. You belong to God. You rest in this physical world and do a good imitation of what it is to fit in there, but you are of God, you are part of All-That-Is. Rest within that, and know who you are, be who you are."
She is aware of the emptiness of her other hand, and half expects a gift to appear there too. But again his thoughts merge with her, as he tells her: "As you become empty, open, you are inviting God to enter into your life and your experience, in each moment. When you are full of busyness, there is no space open for you to receive, and so bless the empty spaces, the emptiness of even time, for it is an invitation to receive and to be whole again, and to be one with God and to behold who you are."
She turns her face towards him, and with her eyes, she thanks him.
He then turns to her, to say:
“There are many who have come, who have answered your call for help, many teachers who are with you at this time, and in every day. There are many answers that are given, always in the asking you are receiving. You can receive directly from the infinite, of course, but we also know that your human need is to have some form or other to connect to, and so we serve this need, through our presence. We are here to help you to know that we all have walked this pathway also. We all have sought the greater love that is ALL. And so we merge with you, walk with you, still you, and support you on your journey of seeking God, the love of All-That-Is. Know that all else that you need must follow, will follow, and in this you can rest assured. Rest within love here, rest within love.”
The image begins to fade, and slowly she opens her eyes, and accustoms herself to her surroundings. The fire, in the hearth, has become just a few embers, and she find herself alone in the room. She notices the soft light of dawn drifting through the balcony windows, and moves towards it.
As she stands on the threshold, she inhales the new day. The colors of the morning warm her, and bring renewed life to her body.
In her heart, she thanks the spirit of the wise old teacher who guided her through the night of her awakening, and welcomed her to this new home.
All that is left for her to do, is to explore what this day has born, and what expression of heart and soul it may bring forward; she is aware of the love and the joy that she might receive, as she opens both of her hands and allows God to fill the space in between.