A Fall to Grace Read online

  "I am discovering the importance of flexibility on my own. Is this what I have forgotten?"

  "This is a piece of it, and for now an important one to remember."

  "When I saw you in my vision, you seemed disappointed in me. Is this true or was it my projection?"

  "I honor where your path takes you, C Alexandra. There is no 'right way' to grow. Life is a seed of the light. A tree's branches find many ways to grow toward the sun, the source of light. By the same token, there are many ways for you to grow toward the sun. I honor your path and your journey. I encourage you to be as aware as possible. Don't get lazy. Wake up and live every moment to its fullest."

  "Many teachers have told me that life is an adventure I can enjoy. It sounds like you are saying something similar but in different words. You are suggesting that enjoying the adventure has to do with following the natural cycles of life."

  "You are correct in this. You are part of nature and must become one with nature's rhythms and nature's clock. You must learn to adhere to the flow."

  "I probably already know the answer to this question, but how do I deal with the loss I am feeling? I have just lost a man I am deeply in love with and attached to. I know that in nature cycles of dying precede cycles of rebirth, but right now I feel awful."

  "Many little deaths are to be expected in life. You must let the energy of the pain move through you. Don't try to stop it. It's as unnatural to stop pain as it is to hold on to it. Meet the pain, experience it completely, then watch it transform.

  "Whenever an energy confronts you from either outside or inside, you must meet it. If you ignore it, the energy will intensify. If you threaten it, the energy will intensify. If you meet it fully, the energy will have no choice but to change. This is the way of nature. So experience your loss fully, and it will have no choice but to change. As the river flows violently over rocks and turns to rapids, it stays true to itself. Because it stays true to itself, the forces of nature return it to a state of tranquility.

  "All the stages you go through in life are parts of your journey. All the states of consciousness you experience are parts of this adventure. Everything changes—that is the one thing you can count on in life. Stay in the moment with your pain and watch the transformation that occurs. Stay awake to the continuing flow of life."

  "Thank you for your helpful words. Will I see you again?"

  "If the flow of life brings our rivulets back together, we shall meet."

  "That is not the response I want to hear. I want to hear, 'Yes, you will see me again. Yes, I will always be with you.' I'm not very comfortable with the unknown."

  "The path of life is unknown. This, too, is part of nature. There is no way to stay in the known. There is no way to know what the future will bring. As soon as you think you know what the future holds, you will be presented with an altogether different picture. There is only change, and the changes up ahead are unknown.

  "As long as you remember who you are, you will have nothing to worry about. Just stay on the path, taking one step at a time. There is no end; there is only the journey. Try to enjoy the journey."

  "I have also received this message before."

  "Life is much simpler than you think. The lessons for you to learn are equally simple. Remember who you are and that in this life you are part of nature. Receive the gift of life. Yes, there will be little deaths from time to time, yet new growth and beauty will replace the blooms that have died.

  "Think of yourself as a growing plant. A plant puts forth beautiful blooms when it has the energy to do so. The more it is fed, the less energy it needs for growth. If at any point your growth requires too much effort, try to find the needed nourishment. This is your responsibility. The river of life will take you to many places, but you must feed yourself along the way. I wish you great joy as you follow your soul's journey."

  "Thank you. I don't know if I will see you again, though I hope I do. Can you tell me how to get back to the place I came from?"

  "Lie down near the river and rest. While closing your eyes, hold the intention of getting to where you want to go. As you drift off to sleep, your dream will take you there."

  With these words, Lao-tzu stands up and reaches behind the rock for his walking stick—a long, curved, exquisitely carved tree branch. Very soon he disappears into the woodlands.

  The pain of losing Etienne is too fresh for me to even think about sleep. Besides, I am afraid that if I leave this place I may never find him. Not meaning to, I become entranced by the river. Watching the water as it hurdles the rocks releases some of my fears. The strength of the current pulls the pain out of my heart. I reflect on the many healing experiences I have had with water in these new worlds. Since I can't explore my relationship with Etienne, I resolve, I will explore my relationship with water. It soothes my soul in ways I have never before experienced.

  The roar and spray of the river pull my energy down. Feeling sleepy at last, I head for a small beach off to my right and stretch out in the cool sand. The rush of the river drowns out my thoughts and feelings, giving rise to a delicious peace.

  My consciousness drifts into a blissful dream state. Having received no directive to return to the castle, my dream carries my soul to a new place—an ethereal land beyond the stars. I am floating among clouds as if drifting in a serene sea. Suddenly I sit up, surprised to find that I am not alone, but rather with a woman formed mostly of light. She is wearing a long, flowing, pastel yellow and blue robe that radiates with the light emitted from her body.

  I introduce myself to the robed figure and ask, "Who are you?"

  "In your world I am known as Mary."

  To sit in the presence of Mary's energy is awe inspiring. Rays of pastel light emanating from this great being bring light to the places shrouded within me, including the darkness in my heart. I see now that I cannot lose my light, much as I may forget about it. This forgetting, I tell myself, is what my first teacher meant when she said there will be many things to distract me in my travels. How, I wonder, could I have been so easily pulled out of myself by one human being?

  Mary cuts through my thoughts with a transmission of unconditional love and compassion. Unconditional love, as I know it in ordinary reality, is the sort of love a puppy gives. A puppy will love its owner no matter how he behaves toward it. A puppy doesn't know how to close its heart.

  "You seem troubled, my daughter," Mary begins. "Please tell me of your distress."

  I am astounded that the ultimate feminine essence of love would regard me as her "daughter." If I am her daughter, why don't I experience her love in my life? And why don't I know how to express the love she advocates giving? Why do I wall off my heart so readily?

  "What is troubling you, my daughter?" Mary reiterates.

  I am surprised that she doesn't respond to my thoughts. I had hoped she would read my mind and answer my questions like the other beings have.

  I answer superficially, "My heart suffers from a loss."

  "I feel your pain, and it lies much deeper than the loss you carry. Your heart is burdened with something other than loss. Will you share your burden with me?"

  "I'm afraid the loss covers up whatever pain you are detecting, Mary."

  "You must forgive yourself."

  "Forgiving myself is not something I have mastered."

  "But your guilt is killing you, my child."

  "I know. I have felt guilty my entire life. But I have never been able to figure out what I have done to prompt such guilt. I feel that I have done something wrong and should be punished."

  "You punish yourself with your guilt."

  "Let's take my current situation. I met this man, Etienne. We shared love. Then I pressured him for more than he was ready to give. My attachment and desire sought to cling to him. When he expressed a need for space, I used stinging words to hurt him. He doesn't deserve that. Once again I have hurt someone because I didn't get what I wanted. And now I am left feeling unfinished, and in pain—and guilt-ridd
en for having wounded a good man with my words."

  "Can you feel compassion for yourself?"

  "Yes, on some level I can feel compassion for my pain. But mostly I feel overly responsible to others. Mary, please help me with my guilt."

  "Guilt about—?" she asks.

  "About not loving enough."

  "Have you given your love?" she asks.

  "Yes, but I have caused injury with it."

  "Is there something you feel you owe?"

  "Yes," I reply.

  "Then it is not true love. True love is given freely. True love carries no debt. Let go of the debt—you owe nothing. Just give your love.

  "As Etienne told you, he cannot be responsible for your happiness or your pain. Nor can you be responsible for his happiness or his pain. No one can be God for another person. No one carries this much responsibility."

  I can't believe I am about to disagree with Mary, but I do. "I am familiar with the concept that we create our own reality and are responsible for our own lives. Recently I have gotten this message in spades. But what about personal responsibility? Where does responsibility for my behavior come in? I can't just go around hurting people because I feel hurt, and then letting go of all judgment pertaining to my actions."

  "There are many levels to this question. It seems you have given it much consideration. Please speak your thoughts out loud to me. I want to hear them."

  "When I was younger, I experimented with mind- altering drugs and had spiritual experiences. I would go to this great light whom I named God. I was struck by the pure love this being emanated, which was similar to the love I feel from you. But God did not speak to me. In fact, he had no identity from which to speak, no form—just pure light. I had the experience of being such a light during one of my recent travels. Anyway, I knew when I first met God that this energy would love me whether I performed saintly deeds or injurious ones. I felt no judgment from him.

  "One time after taking a mind-altering substance, I met a female and male energy that exhibited the love and light I feel from you. I called them Mother-Father God. For hours they sat on a bench and repeated to me, 'Forgive yourself. We forgive you.'

  "But I don't know how to do that. I feel a need to take responsibility for my actions rather than absolve myself of all sin. Do you understand what I am saying?"

  "Yes, the role of the mother and father essence is simply to love and not judge while one learns the lessons one was born to learn. You look at the small picture, for that is what you have been shown. The larger picture must be viewed as well.

  "Let us focus on your present situation, as it is fresh in your mind. Is it possible that Etienne needed to experience how his actions hurt you? Etienne, you see, began a deep exploration with you, however brief it may have been. Then he disappeared because he needed space. Yes, maybe there was a more skillful way to share your feelings. And yes, you are reaping what you have sown. But so is he. One plants a seed and watches it grow; seeing the sprout that comes up helps determine whether or not a different seed should be planted next time. This is how we learn. The law of the universe is that one must experience what one has planted. In some lands, people speak of 'reaping what you sow'; in others, the word for this is karma. The judgment you speak of has nothing to do with this law of the universe. There is no judgment, as you experienced upon meeting the energy you call God.

  "By being so hard on yourself you become stuck, leaving no room for evolution. What you must do instead is learn from your behavior. This you can do by reflecting on your actions and deciding to act differently in the future. Feeling guilty about your past does not allow for change. Worse yet, it leaves no room for compassion to come your way from either yourself or energy forms like me.

  "Love is what you seek. Without love, the plant that is you cannot be nourished. Without nourishment, it will not live.

  "Your choice is clear. Do you wish to receive the love of the universe or do you wish to refuse this love and die? No longer do you have the luxury of indulging in self- blame and judgment.

  "If you want to live your life fully, then start by loving yourself as we love you—or, to use your metaphor, as a puppy would love you. Open up to the grace of love!"

  With these words, she puts her hand on the crown of my head. I am flooded with so much love and light that I lose consciousness.

  I gradually become aware that I am floating. I cannot feel my body, or even open my eyes. I am emotionally numb as well. Only my mind is awake and, for the first time in a long time, free of chatter.

  I hear a series of words uttered in a monotone: "You must heal the split."

  "What split?" I ask.

  "You have asked about Etienne. You are one soul. You must heal the split."

  "I can't heal the split. He won't talk to me."

  "You must heal the split."

  I am exasperated but surprisingly indifferent to this conversation. "I cannot heal the split."

  "Then you will never again experience happiness in your life."

  I am still numb, but suspecting that something here will have future significance, I probe further. "What do you mean I will never again experience happiness in my life? That's insane. I don't believe you!"

  "You and Etienne are one soul. Your mission in this lifetime is to heal the split. The rupture between all warring parties on your planet is caused by the sense of separation, which leads to this sort of fear and anger. You must heal the split. You must help other people heal the split."

  "I can try to heal the split within me, if that's what you mean."

  "You do not understand. The time for working with yourself is over. It is now time for you and your people to heal the split by being in relationship with one another. You must heal the split with Etienne or you will not know happiness."

  I have no idea who this intelligence is or where he has come from. All I know is that there is no love in his voice and no compassion in his words.

  As my awareness continues to drift, I realize that the voice has gone and all that remains is silence. Instantly, my mind becomes flooded with brightly colored geometric shapes. I don't know where I am. I don't know how to get out of here.

  A hand touching mine shatters the numbness in my body. "Who's here?" I call out with my mind.

  "It's Isis. I have come to take you from this place. Just be still and keep your eyes closed. I will lead you by the hand."

  I keep my eyes closed and float safely in the care of Isis. We begin moving downward. As waves from the descent rush through me, feelings return to my body. I am dizzy and nauseous.

  Finally we reach the home of Isis. She lays me on the ground and summons me to open my eyes. It is dusk, and the sky is tinged with a lavender hue that is soothing to my eyes. Still whirling a bit, I close them once more.

  "Breathe this," Isis urges, placing a strong scent under my nose.

  "What is it?" I ask, inhaling a second time.

  "It's the sage plant. Its aroma will help you come back into your body. Just try to relax. Let your breath carry light back to your body. You have been through quite an experience."

  I follow her advice. Then I open my eyes, take in the darkening sky, and close them again. This action seems to help me reenter my body. But I am not yet ready to move. So much has happened that I want only to rest here on the cool, moist ground.

  Isis begins massaging my feet while humming a gentle, soothing tune. After a while her singing grows louder. Soon her voice fills the air with a range of intervals, sounding like a large choir. Her toning is so grounding that my nausea and dizziness vanish, leaving only exhaustion.

  I fall into a deep slumber. This time my consciousness as well as my body gives over to the peace of sleep.

  I awake on a soft futon in an open-air room. The morning sun is streaming through a canopy of purples and blues over my head. Focusing more closely, I notice that long pieces of silk tied loosely to wooden posts in the corners of the room are creating this soft, wispy ceiling.

 
; Isis appears at my bed holding a tray made of woven grasses. On the tray is an assortment of breads and fruit. I am ravenously hungry, as though I haven't eaten in ages.

  "How long have I been sleeping?" I ask, eagerly stuffing a piece of bread into my mouth. I am too hungry to concentrate on taking in the "gift" of the grains.

  "You have been sleeping for half a cycle of the moon," Isis replies.

  "You mean I slept while the moon rose and fell in the sky?"

  "No, C, you have been sleeping for half a cycle of the moon."

  "But that is two weeks, isn't it?"

  "Yes, in your time that would be considered a fortnight."

  "How can that be? How could I have slept so long?"

  "You had a great deal to integrate. You called in many powers here, and your calls were all answered. The time to rest had come. And what better place was there to do it than by the healing Nile?"

  "I don't know anything about the Nile, but thank you for providing me with such a wonderful resting place."

  "Finish eating, then come join me on the banks of the river," she says, exiting with an air of grace and ease.

  This woman is certainly not burdened with insecurity or guilt, I tell myself, finishing the food a bit more slowly than I began. Although I am reticent to leave this safe, comfortable setting, I rise to meet Isis at the Nile. On a soft chair by my bed I notice a green silk dress. I put it on, surprised to find that it fits perfectly. Feeling the softness of the silk against my body, I realize that I need to be nurtured not only by the food I eat but by the fabrics I wear and the colors I surround myself with.

  I leave the room running my fingers through whatever strands of hair are not matted to my head. The knots catching my fingers alert me to the fact that these tangles will not be fun to comb out.

  Isis is waiting for me by the river. The only other time I remember being here was in the darkness of night. I look around at the greenery, which I hadn't noticed before. The tall grass reminds me of the tiger, the tree man, and the meadow in which the energy of play reigned supreme. Although aware that time has a different meaning here than in my ordinary life, I begin wondering what has happened to my two friends who were supposed to meet me outside the castle.