A Fall to Grace Read online

  I awake slowly. With my eyes still closed, I revel in the richness of the soil beneath me. I've forgotten how nurturing it is to simply lie on the earth, I note. I wish I had more time to do this during my busy life. I guess I could make time for it if I really want to. I need to reevaluate my priorities.

  "You certainly do!" a gentle voice calls out.

  Startled, I open my eyes. Standing before me is a little being. He's not a leprechaun—I've seen pictures of leprechauns, and he doesn't resemble them. Nor is he like any elf I've seen in collections of fairy tales. All I can think of calling him is a "tree man." He couldn't be more than three feet tall, and beside him stands a small doe.

  They both look at me with soft brown eyes. The tree man has a glimmer in his, giving me the impression that he is laughing, despite the serious expression on his face. He is dressed in a long-tailed black coat and in pants the color of his slick brown hair.

  "Who are you?" I ask.

  "I'm a friend," he replies.

  "Is the doe a friend, too?" I ask.

  "The doe is a friend of mine," he replies.

  "Oh," I comment, hardly knowing what to say.

  "Are you on a search for power?" he inquires.

  "I don't know. Why do you ask?"

  I'm getting used to the idea that the beings I run into tend to know what is on my mind.

  "You seem to have a lot of questions about power, as if you want more of it than you think you currently have."

  "I guess that is true," I confess. "I have been feeling powerless. I've always felt powerless, but now it's more acute than ever, because I have been diagnosed with a life-threatening illness."

  "If all the power in the universe were available to you, what would you do with it?"

  "I don't know. I have never thought about it."

  He looks at me with kind eyes. I feel comfortable with this little man. I know I could live here forever and be happy following him around like the doe does.

  "Until you understand your connection with all that lives—and stop feeling separate from the people around you and all other life forms in the universe—it is not appropriate for you to tap into your full power. Right now your ego has hold of your power. The ego experiences itself as separate from the rest of life, and it seeks power over others. Hence the ego cannot use the power of the universe in a way that serves all."

  He continues, "If you had all the power of the universe available to you, and you were feeling jealous or angry, what would the consequences be?"

  The little man is right, I tell myself. What I really want is the power to heal myself and to have a good life; yet, perhaps because of my ego, I am wanting more and more power for myself.

  "What is power?" I ask.

  "Power is the ability to use energy," he explains. "However, what you need at the moment is knowledge. That is what you should be seeking."

  "Can you give me an example of the knowledge I should be seeking? Should I go back to school for another degree?"

  The wind kicks up around us, drawing my attention back to nature. Up until this time, the sun was shining through the trees and a slight morning chill was in the air. I assume that it is still morning. Or is it late afternoon? I should be able to tell the time of day by observing the sun's position in the sky, but I can't—I've become too reliant on the ticking of a clock on the wall.

  Again the little man reads my mind. "How to live your life in accordance with the laws of nature—this is the kind of knowledge you should be seeking. You know that you are not separate from nature, that you cannot control nature. Control is not true power. Working with and living with is true power.

  "The doctors and healers in your land seek to cure disease. But what good does it do to cure disease if they do not teach people how to live?

  "If the doctors successfully remove the tumor from your body and you reengage in a life of stress and anxiety, will they have effected a cure? You might only continue to abuse the body, replacing the old illness with a new one. To move in the direction of good health and happiness you will need to see yourself as part of life. But how can you do this if you don't know the power of the sun, the earth, the moon, stars, water, wind, fire, and the ways in which they move around you, with you, and within you?"

  I listen carefully to this funny-looking man with laughing eyes. I can tell he is not preaching to me: the twinkle in his eyes shows genuine concern, and his words carry an energy of pure love and wisdom. I am sure this being knows everything, and I want to know what he knows. There I go again, wanting it all, I remind myself. I have a knowing that suggests this process is going to take a great deal of patience—something I tend to run out of.

  "Are you going to teach me how to live my life?" I ask.

  "No, I am going to help you remember how to do it. All the knowledge you need is inside you. You simply have to access it."

  "I often feel as if I am stumbling around in the dark."

  "Then walk through the darkness. Let the strength of your spirit carry you through the void."

  "I don't know how to do that."

  "Well then, let's take a practice run at it, shall we?"

  He steps closer and reaches for my hand. The doe follows in silence, sharing her love with me through her eyes. She has no words with which to communicate, I observe. Immediately I catch myself invalidating the importance of her presence, then I recall the gift of love that shines through her eyes. She has love to offer, I realize. What more do I seek? Isn't love enough?

  We walk together in silence. The trees are so tall I cannot see the tops of them. Nor can I see the brilliance of the sun. I see only its rays streaming through the pines. The dark earth is covered with their green and brown needles. These, as well as the shade of the trees, keep the ground moist, cool, and nurturing to walk upon. My feet bounce along effortlessly.

  We arrive at a clearing in the midst of which is a lagoon surrounded by earth and rocks. At the far end of the lagoon is a waterfall. It's not a roaring waterfall I would associate with the tropics, but it's enough of a cascade to evoke the great presence of water.

  We make our way around the lagoon. Both the little tree man and the doe prance gracefully over the rocks. Their movements are hushed. Mine, by contrast, are loud. My footsteps are heavy; my breathing, labored; my gait, forced and clumsy.

  The little tree man looks around, his eyes twinkling. I can see he holds all the wisdom of the universe.

  We head toward the waterfall. What now, I wonder, as the strong spray causes me to lose my balance. The little man and the doe stop. The man turns around, takes my hand, and glances at me with a look that says, "It's okay." I feel a sudden rush of trust in him.

  "We are going to walk behind the waterfall," he shouts, to make his tiny voice heard over the din of the cascade. "Just follow me."

  I think about how challenging it will be to keep my balance around all this power. Then from the back of my mind I hear, "Distractions will pull you from your center. Gather yourself and stay in your center." Stopping for a moment, I try to collect myself by taking a deep breath. I can feel myself becoming centered and mustering strength for the journey ahead.

  As we near the side of the waterfall, I manage to avoid slipping on the wet, moss-covered rocks. Again I remind myself to keep my center. Following the little man further, I inch my way behind the cascading waters and, to my surprise, arrive at the opening of a cave.

  At first I am delighted by the prospect of entering this cave, as I have never before been in one. Then my fears start to surface. Fears often arise as I face a new adventure, I realize. Why is that?

  My imagination goes wild—bears live in caves, bats live in caves. What if some animal is in there?

  The little man falls down laughing. The doe raises her nose and laughs in her own way. It is humiliating to discover that my rampant fears are known to others, but what am I to do? These beings know everything about me. There's nothing to do but breathe and try my best not to blush too profusely.
r />   The little man stands and grabs my hand. The energy he carries inspires my confidence. In response, I stretch myself to trust a little more.

  We enter the cave. The interior is how I imagined it— pitch black. The little man's hand, still in mine, is leading me through the darkness. I take comfort in his firm grip, knowing that all I need to do is follow.

  Finally we reach what appears to be the back of the cave. No bears lumber up to maul us. No bats leap out and get caught in my hair. But no matter how wide open my eyes are, I can't see a thing in this kind of darkness.

  The little man strikes a match and lights a lantern that is mounted on the cave wall. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a crystal and holds it up to the light for me. Then he turns the crystal in such a way that a rainbow of colors begins bouncing off it. But more than that, I see a brilliant light shining through it.

  "Do you see the light?" he asks.

  "Yes," I reply.

  "A light like this lives inside you. You have your own internal light that will guide you through the darkness. Go inside yourself and try to see the glimmering light that shines there."

  I shut my eyes and go inside myself the way I learned to in my relaxation classes. All of a sudden I am aware of a brilliant light in my solar plexus.

  "Excellent," he says. "This is you. This is who you truly are—beyond thought, beyond ego, beyond the impressions of others. The light that shines in you is even greater than you now perceive it to be. It has no beginning or end; its expanse is incomprehensible. Part of your journey in life is to let that light grow.

  "It is important to remember that the purpose of the ego is to perceive space and time for this light inside you. But who you are is this great light, not your ego.

  "As for the practice of walking through darkness—" Before completing his sentence he blows out the lantern. The light of the crystal vanishes.

  "I am not going to help you leave the cave. You have many senses beyond ordinary vision. The nonordinary sense of seeing inherent in the great light within you will guide you. Let your sense of smell lead the way. Let the sensors on your skin and your knowings lead the way. I shall be at the entrance to greet you."

  "But wait, I can't see!" I exclaim, ignoring the instructions the little tree has so patiently delineated. My plea is met by silence.

  I take a step. Disoriented by the intensity of the darkness, I cannot tell if I have moved forward or backward. I know I am on solid earth, but neither the earth nor my body feels solid right now.

  I take another step and promptly hit the cool, wet wall of the cave. I can't do this, I tell myself. But no one is going to rescue me here. Or maybe someone will. If I sit down, perhaps the little man will feel sorry for me and come get me. Perhaps this is a test of faith in the unconditional love that my new friend feels for me. No, that's not it; it sounds good, but that's just not it. I really have to do this one myself. The concept here must be, a little tough love from my friend and a lot of faith in myself.

  I continue my painfully slow journey through the cave, one trembling step after another. Then I recall the man and the doe joyfully prancing over the rocks by the lagoon, and I realize there is another way to proceed.

  Breathe, I say to myself. Find your center, follow your light, I reiterate, trying to use the new knowledge I have been given.

  So far, so good, I declare silently. Not simple, not smooth yet—but I'm doing pretty well. Then at the point of feeling full of myself, I trip on a rock blocking my path and fall flat on my face.

  Okay, that's it, I say to myself, struggling to sit up. I've had it. I'm not moving. I am going to sit in the darkness and die here if no light appears for me to follow.

  I feel the energy of the little tree man beside me. At least I can perceive that much, I note.

  "What are you doing?" he asks.

  "I'm sitting—what does it look like?" I say angrily.

  "Are you resting?" he asks.

  "No, I am not resting; I am giving up. So what do you have to say to that, O great wise one?"

  He ignores my sarcasm. "The trick to moving through the darkness, dear heart, is not to sit down but to keep moving."

  I feel the energy of another presence beside me. It is that of the beautiful female I first met in the void.

  "You are going through an initiation," she explains.

  "I don't know if I am going to live through it," I reply despondently as tears well up in my eyes. My heart holds all the pain in me: self-pity, disappointment, worry, strife, fear of failure, and on and on.

  My teacher ignores this bid for sympathy. "It would not be an initiation if you thought you were going to live through it," she replies.

  The little tree man and my teacher recite in concert: "Remember who you are. Remember the light that shines the way for you. Remember that the strength of your spirit will carry you through the void." Then they are gone.

  I try to collect myself enough to consider my options. How silly of me, I muse, to think I have options. Either I sit in this cave, disconnected from my body forever, or I get up and walk.

  I get up. I seem always to be getting up and brushing myself off, I recall, frowning. I wish life were easier.

  I start to walk, chanting to myself, "The strength of my spirit will carry me through the void." The rhythm and words of this intonation draw me away from my negative thoughts. Forgetting about my plight, I carry on. Soon I begin to smell fresh soil. I begin to hear rippling water. I begin to open my heart to joy, which replaces all the self- created pain I’ve been carrying. I begin to feel the strength inside me that guides me to the light at the opening of the cave.

  How long, I wonder, did all of this take? Who knows—maybe an hour, maybe a day. All I know is it is light outside and I am walking toward that light.

  Finally I emerge from the cave. The sun shines brightly, momentarily blinding me. I shut my eyes, then open them ever so slowly, giving them time to adjust to the illuminated world.

  I am back at the lovely lagoon, only this time the landscape is much more vibrant. As there is no one here to greet me, I embark on a personal inventory. I note that my knees feel shaky. Actually, my entire body is trembling.

  To calm my nerves and refresh my tired soul, I plunge into the lagoon. The cold water surrounds me with a purity I have never felt before. I allow it to clear away the emotional debris left over from my adrenaline rush in the cave. As I float on my back, I grasp the meaning of the term "healing waters."

  Kicking hard, I descend to the bottom of the pond. The water is not as murky as I expected it to be. I see an abundance of plants and many types of fish. But because I don't know enough about marine life, I am unable to identify these colorful creatures. Even so, how grateful I am to be immersed in the power of nature! Usually I am in too much of a rush for such a luxury, or too preoccupied with thoughts about what I should be doing. Here everything is different: I have no place to go and nothing to do.

  I rise to the surface, flip onto my back, and gaze at the clouds as they drift through the sky. Reviewing my time in the cave, I begin to wonder what my teacher meant when she said I am going through an initiation. What is an initiation? And what am I being initiated into? The only initiations I am familiar with take place in sororities and fraternities, and I know that isn't what she was referring to.

  I don't feel that I've changed, other than becoming worn out from the intensity of the experience. Still, I am glad I didn't remain on the cave floor, living out the rest of my life in darkness. Actually, I suppose I do feel a new sense of accomplishment for having overcome my paralyzing fears. I will wait and see if other feelings arise. For now, I am simply glad to be in sunlight and fresh air.

  I swim across the lagoon and climb out onto a rock. There on a blanket not too far away are the little tree man and the doe. Flowing between them is an invisible transmission of love that I sense immediately. Seeing that they are having a picnic, I walk over to join them.

  "Congratulations, you've made it
!" the little man says in greeting. "Have a seat. You must be very hungry. Caves tend to stimulate the appetite, you know."

  I take a seat on the blanket.

  "So, how did it feel?" he asks, handing me a plate of strange-looking fare containing a variety of unusual plants.

  "Actually, I was just thinking about that." I tell him about the chant that helped me take each step forward and about my healing swim in the waters of the lagoon.

  "Each experience you have here is a piece of a puzzle about how to live your life fully," he says. "No single experience will provide the answer. Try not to analyze too much of what has happened thus far. Just allow the pieces to fall together."

  Exhausted, I look around for a place to rest. I don't want to be rude to my hosts, but I can't avoid giving in to my fatigue. Besides, I feel at liberty here to take care of myself.

  A mother pine tree several yards to my left invites me to lean against her. How do I know this? Through an inner voice that calls to me. Trusting that voice, I crawl to the tree. My legs feel stiff with tension. Fear, I muse, is so exhausting, so stressful on the body. Is my illness caused by fear-induced stress?

  Leaning against the tree, I discover that my back, too, is stiff. The voice within instructs me to breathe in and with each exhalation to relax. Many breaths later I feel as though the tree is holding me, containing all that I have experienced, and casting no judgment. This tree, I can tell, is alive! It somehow knows me and communicates with me.

  I close my eyes and lose myself in the uncanny vigor of my surroundings. I seem to be soaking up something other than beauty, something I cannot yet put my finger on.

  The tree man approaches. "May I join you?"

  Without opening my eyes I reply, "Certainly." I am struck by the formality of his request.

  "What you are experiencing is a very important piece of the puzzle. The vitality you feel is mirroring back to you the vitality of your essence. Here you can start to learn who you really are.

  "As you recognize that the tree is part of you and that you are part of the tree, a new awareness will emerge. You will be able to see that, contrary to your previous perception, there is no separation between you and the rest of life. Your mind creates separation; your fear reinforces separation; your ego feels separate. In other words, you have invented the separation. It is an illusion you live your life with.