The trees reflected on the glass of the bookcase, making it appear as if the glass case enclosed a living forest with branches moving in the wind’s waves.
But the light was muted, for this glass wasn’t a true mirror. Still the reflection appeared to have some life force in it, a little more than was visible. There was a forest contained in the cabinet. The more I looked at it, the more I realized this to be true.
As it showed itself to me, it dawned on me that the liminal landscape of my lucid dream had been barren, while the environment of my everyday life contained everything I could ever imagine or need. Right here. Right now. And right on time.
The implications of this shift from the other world of the inner imaginaire to the grounded life of living metaphor was the magical initiation I had gone to the crossed paths to receive. What I hadn’t realized was that I needed to get out of my head, stop waiting for Godot or the infinite caravan of dream. Instead the forest in the cabinet gave me my next clue: “Look around you.” I was in awe: the forest had come to me.
I came to see that my next development could all take place right here, in relation to this cabinet and its contents. Bringing objects to it, taking things out of it, seeing what appears in it, using it as a magical wardrobe, as a mystic grimoire, as a holder for metaphor, sacred objects, rare treasures, events and meanings embodied in form to be symbolically understood.
After seeking the essences, I had begun the Book of Secrets, as is my tradition, writing in it the experiments and processes that would share the work done so far. Now I could see the second part of the Book of Secrets. It takes place not in some higher more etheric heaven, in a place far from physical realities on earth. Instead the play of life guided me to expand the exploration into the metaphors embedded in everyday existence. They hold keys to the profound understandings of metaphysics – that is the level of work to be done. This is then opened up and outward into the second phase of the Book of Secrets.
He carries the ladder downstairs, toward me, near the place where I am sitting. The trees are mirrored in the book case behind me. I look out the window to see a bird that has just settled on the lamppost, like a weathervane facing east. She turns her head to catch my eye, facing me through the glass. We exchange a bit of light, while traffic comes and goes below, a bus passes by the crossroad. Human figures walking quickly in the rain fill the street.
The ladder is lying on its side, by the door.
I understand that what I’d dreamed liminarly – the crossed path, the grey flat sky, the dead landscape, was actually this busy cross-street with traffic lights, buses, people, cars, bicycles. The ladder that came downstairs to me echoes the dream stepladder. And the bird on the lamppost, against the grey sky, is it me? Or is it my familiar, a fragment of my soul able to fly and come and go at will (bhagavan). An ordinary gull on the first day of November bears for a moment an extraordinary role in the play. She can see for me, fly for me, as if she were a drone. I may never be able to review the footage, or feel the cool air through feathers, but like the forest reflected in the cabinet, her view of life is reflected in my mind. She sits above, my eyes flick away. She is gone.
If she is a messenger, she may return with something for me. If she is a metaphor she will add meaning to my morning. If she is a familiar she will act on my behalf. The reflection of her mind is momentarily flashing in my awareness. “Should I prepare my feathered costume?” That’s absurd. I am the one who is writing the Book of Secrets. Bird-messages may be helpful and even beneficial, but are not the goal here. With every glimmer of contact I must take great care not to lose myself.
As I invoke the living forces in all things and beings within and around me I ask for only cooperation, love and respect, and I give that in return. In this way, I now begin.
The path can shine with each footstep. I know that the quest is not enough. The notation of the quest and its remembrance is in fact the golden fleece.
As I place the ladder and the bird into my wunderkabinett they instantaneously miniaturize, becoming figurines. The ladder is propped up standing. The bird is of wood, like a seaside souvenir. When I close the doors, I see the trees moving in the wind.