Coming and going, entering into those human trials and tribulations, joy in those who know the beauty of life, sorrow with those who are in disappointment, the soul travels through all minds and hearts – aware of the interplay or lost in immersion in the minds and hearts of others.
Either together as a group or one at a time, the beings of other people can take its toll in each of us who is learning to extend and expand in this way.
And so the solace of nature – here the mind is at peace and the beings of landscape, climate, plants and animals are soothing in their ancient simplicity. But here’s the thing – every once in a while there comes one soul who has access to that same natural simplicity. An open being who for various reasons is available as a fellow traveler, a lover, companion, a soulmate or friend. Not without complication or complexity, yet such a one has the capacity to see and know that, and can be more solace than any nature. Now we are getting somewhere – the work is easier when life’s problems are not the only game at play.
Also seeking, sharing mind and heart through human suffering and joys, is rewarded in this contact. There are no walls or barriers to the dance of the soul. The freedom shared in this connection between two sincere souls increases courage and strength through love. The second continues, for truth’s expansion from the inner still point into the outer manifest world is still our physical and metaphysical imperative. But the stillpoint found in solitude is now known by others also, and ensuring this, oneness is known and acknowledged as a whole action.
Gathering others into this nurturing circle is the next obvious step. For there are always others on the earth at the same time. Finding and recognizing one another is the great game, and awakening the dormant ones is a gift to all life.
All that I have described here is hidden, subtle and esoteric. It is not at all visible in the world but it’s something seen only with the inner eye of the soul.
Glynis had been taught well, and was aware of her task long before she set out. Returning always to her forest sanctuary, she delicately entered the worlds of others – those on the forest paths, on the edge by the meadow, and beyond that to the tracks past the fences, down to the roads into settlements, villages, towns and cities.
She was seen on a plane flying from Rio to New York. She was driving in Europe with a friend from Spain to the Netherlands. In Ireland, India, New Zealand, China, Sri Lanka, Chile, Mexico and San Francisco. She didn’t go to sacred places, unless the centre of the town or city were called sacred. She knew others looked after that side of things. She went immediately to the town square and watched people. She was like a holy well and she was the keeper of that well. When a traveller or person from the town was thirsty or needed water, she provided it. They came to her. She gave them water. And with some very rarely, she sang.
After a time she once again sought out the deep moss in the heart of the forest. At any forest in the world she could find this spot: dark, moist, green. And she slept under it, pulling it over herself like a blanket. She spread out as she laid there, moss covered her body, face and head. She exhaled, and as she did so she expanded, flattened to cover more of the forest floor. Beneath the moss blanket she spread into matter so thin she was no more than a micro membrane expanded throughout the forest.
And as is the way with all forests, her matter somehow communicated with other forests, other moss beds, and in a way we can’t yet understand she found herself spread there, too. This is the way she rested for months, years, or centuries. So it was that Glynis rested. Moss became her mind in the living forest, the forest became her being until, inevitably, a contraction began, a thickening. She rapidly coalesced into form. Other locations transferred their energy to her, and she soon woke, stretched and sat up, then stood again in the woods. After gently returning the moss to its pristine place, she raised her hands to the sun, drinking in the recharging power of those ancient sacred rays.
She walked along the path to the river, for there was always a path to the river beside her moss bed. It faced east to catch the morning sun. This helped Glynis re-orient herself after the long sleep. Nearby was a hidden hut, a temple really, in which a few dedicated objects were held as holy. After washing, she entered the hut still brushing her damp hair with her fingers before lighting the small fire stove. The walls and rafters were hung with drums, pots, rugs, herb bundles. Cups and plates stood at a sideboard. A long full length mirror had been brought in since she’d been here last and there was food in the cupboard – the woman in a nearby village had sensed she might be coming and she put out some bread as an offering. Glynis ate. Joyously. Gratefully.
To the people of the village, the hut had no furnishings, no signs of life inside. Over the years women had gone to this place to help pray for help with child bearing, or healing or wisdom. They brought offerings, rebuilt the hut when it fell apart, and once in a while they thought they heard something. The offerings were always taken.
But you might ask, did this happen at every hut when Glynis woke at every forest? No. It was a little mysterious. Usually one old woman in a village nearby had a dream and took the bread or other food to the hut as the dream required. She didn’t really think about it at all, but just went ahead to be sure it was there in the morning. Forest creatures all kept away, leaving the food for Gwyneth alone. This was the way people sustained her over all the years and generations. In return she gave them all she could, helping their wishes become realities, and speaking with the forest beings in their own language to be sure they helped those of true heart.
Was she a forest being herself? From time to time she wondered. She was fluent in their language, but her spirit wasn’t held there like the spirits of the forest creatures were. At night her dreams took her to other lands — deserts and mountains, oceans and lakes, ice lands.
She recalled older stories of relatives, a sister in the sea, another in the frozen north land, another in tropical jungles. One aunt lives in the desert, another in crystal mountain caves. Her night dreams were real, visits to their homes, meetings. Once they all met at the summit in the mountains of Peru. For earth’s time there was a gap, a flash. Most people missed it but animals, babies and old people saw the gap; and the skies responded with strange clouds in whirls of form like carved spindle whorls.