The Kiva

The Kiva by Kathryn Preston

Riding in the El Dorado with the top down on that one-lane highway, her “baby” at the wheel, she felt a sense of expansion and freedom she hadn’t felt for a while. It had been way too long since she had been out on the open road and she was ripe for this trip. Her sense of adventure was open full throttle!

They were headed out to the Kiva in Marble, CO. National Geographic had sent them to get the story and photos. In this particular Kiva, no photography had ever been allowed prior to this moment in time. She had written a story, and he had provided the eerily intuitive photographs for Cowboys and Indians magazine that had won the stamp of approval of Colorado’s Ute elders. Permission to cover the Marble, CO Kiva was now being granted to them by a local Ute tribe because they had proven their ability to “become native,” to get inside indigenous ways of thinking and being, and to truly understand and empathize from the inside-out. The two of them, the writer and the photographer, saw it as part of their unified mission in life to portray these beautiful people as the allies to humanity and stewards of the Earth that they truly are, and to illuminate their ancient ways of knowing in an attempt to create an alternative consciousness to the current forces of destruction being pursued by the rampant, self-absorbed consumerism of the patriarchy.

Discovering and disseminating indigenous ways of being
are also part of the effort to liberate the divine-feminine principle that has been suppressed for over 2,000 years. Our heroine also believes that freeing the divine-feminine from mental slavery is freeing herself. As Lilla Watson, the aboriginal activist said, "If you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time.  But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together."

The dynamic duo couldn't wait to investigate! The stories and images they collaborated on were nothing short of magical. She was forever mystified by him, the photographer, who could convey a whole story via a single image. He thought in abstract images, which was very much like indigenous peoples’ ways of knowing. Like the Lakota Sioux elder who had reportedly “seen” the arrival of the white man’s “iron horses” (locomotives) before they ever set foot on the continent, the photographer was her very own “noble savage.” To her, he was a vessel for the Muses, an open channel through which the universe could express and experience itself, and he was a compassionate person, to boot. In other words, he reflected the best parts of herself back to her.


Their current assignment was exactly what they wanted their lives to be about. Previously, she had shown him a childhood photo of herself, her nose buried in a children's book entitled, “Magic Tricks!” She thought this snapshot was as close as one could get to a photograph of her soul. Over the years, she had come to believe deeply in real magic. Not the “Hogwarts” kind, but the kind that sees a tree grow from a seed, a fetus emerge from the womb … and she never ceased to be amazed by the genius of the designs behind our natural earthly systems. To watch lightning as it strikes in the sky and think how similar it is to the flow of lava running down the side of a volcano, or a mountain stream flowing to the sea, or to the blood that runs through our veins, or the veins of a leaf, or the branches in a tree, and on and on. These energy flows are repeating patterns all throughout Nature. What do these similarities tell us?
She had the feeling it all had something to do with being created "in the image of" the Source of all things. This was something she'd like to discuss with a Shaman.

As she ruminated, the warm desert sun and wind caressed her, and left her feeling warm, open, beautiful, content: like
a good lover should. She thought about the symbolism of the Sun in Native American and other cultures: “Father Sun,” representing masculine energies. “Masculine” in this sense having nothing to do with gender,  but referring to action-oriented energies rather than activities like listening, receiving, or gestating ideas, which are traditionally “feminine,” intuitive energies. She mused that this man, whose shoulder she was now resting her head upon, was like the Sun: a life-affirming force with whom she knew she could grow. She, on the other hand, was more a symbol of the feminine, receptive energies: incredibly intuitive, imaginative, a good listener, always brewing ideas to be birthed at a later time. She knew that he had appeared in her life at the right time: just when she had become aware of her need to honor the masculine energies within herself. Yes, he was her Love, but he was also a teacher sent by the Universe: the Creator, the Great Spirit, God. He would never say that he was a teacher because he didn’t feel that he was. She, however, knew that he was teaching her to be more action-oriented. Not action-oriented like a bull-dozer that moves forward with no consciousness about how its progress affects others or the environment, but action-energies that are tempered with compassion (the feminine) rather than tyranny (the human ego run-amuck). He was teaching merely by being who he was. She knew that she had a singular tendency to focus only on the intuitive, inner states of being because she concurred with what Carl Jung had said in his autobiography: that the inner world was equally as fascinating as anything happening in the outside world. She knew she needed balance, though. She needed to get more active in the physical world about bringing her ideas to life. In many cultures, there is a saying: “when the student is ready, the teacher will appear.” It was this frame of mind that she was in when she decided to march right down to National Geographic and apply for a job as a staff writer. She had the awareness, and knew that a teacher would appear. And lo and behold, who should appear when she was given her first assignment? The photographer. The moment she met him, she knew who he was. But she didn’t say anything for quite some time because, as we all know, it takes men a little longer to catch-on to such things. (wink). It was better for him to realize it in his own time. And time is something that we all have more of than we think we do.


To the photographer, she was fair of face, easy on the eyes. Anyone could see that. What others might not realize at first glance is that her Spirit was as voluptuous as her physical form. He saw that she was a child of nature and he loved that about her. She had a connection with nature that turned something on inside of her, something primal, transcendental. He loved that she could go out into the woods alone for hours and come back to read him the most amazing poetry that she had written while communing with her Muses: the woodland fairies, ancestral spirits, or higher self. Whatever that something was … she was connected to it. She created
magic for others, and he adored her for it. He felt it was his job to protect her from human parasites that would prey on her and take advantage of her good nature. This had already happened to her many times before she met him. He also knew that she could be hard on herself because she had unconsciously taken on the role of her calloused childhood care-takers. She had a terrible time trusting people and could be very hard on herself. He understood this and saw that she was becoming more aware with every passing day. The more aware she became, the more the distrust seemed to disappear. His unconditional acceptance of her had helped her immensely, and he knew she needed that. She recognized this too, and as a result, grew more trusting and loving as time went on.

He was a wise person. He understood the fundamental duality of the universe and knew that because we are all mirror images of the universe, all of humanity contains this duality as well. Dark and light, feminine and masculine, chaos and bliss. Can't have one without the other, and you must take the bad with the good. To that end, he gave her space when she needed it, and knew that when she was ready and had processed whatever was troubling her, she would return renewed, having spent time alone with her Spirit. She had purity and passion all rolled into one. He knew that Beauty, as an expression of divinity, was the thinking behind the painting of the Sistine Chapel, and she personified this aesthetic for him. She was his very own archetypal Venus-Lillith-incarnate.

The moment they arrived at the Kiva, a shift in consciousness hit them instantly. Like a scene in a Castaneda novel where Carlos receives a smack in the back from his mentor Don Juan Matus, propelling him into a new dimension, they had landed in another reality.

A Ute elder greeted them at the entrance to the Kiva as dry red dust from the surrounding hills swirled around the trio like spirit dancers or whirling dervishes. Their guide seemed young for an “elder,” but they both knew that he must be very well respected by his tribe in order to have been chosen to guide them. He introduced himself as Swift Eagle, or “Swifty” for short, and he invited them to join him in a cleansing, purifying ceremony called Smudging. Before entering the kiva, he burned some sage sticks tied in a small bundle and used an eagle feather to fan the purifying smoke around their heads and around the perimeter of their bodies. The duo held hands, closed their eyes and took long luxurious breaths, inhaling the scent of the sacred herb. Swifty explained softly that the way we breathe is a metaphor for the way we relate to one another on this planet. Short, staccato breaths equate with quick, superficial encounters. Long, deep breaths indicate taking one's time to listen and relate. The writer in her observed that Swifty’s skin was like a road-map of the local terrain. The dryness of the desert had carved deep grooves into his reddish-brown skin as wind and water had carved deep canyons and valleys into Mother Earth.


Properly purified, they began the descent into the kiva. The photographer knew that his soul-twin was noting the symbolism of every moment. He remembered her previously telling him that according to Jungian analysis, descending stairs in dreams represents entry into the world of the unconscious: dreams, archetypes, and the collective knowledge of all our ancestors’. He knew she was thinking about this as they descended the stairway, and he looked at her with a knowing smile as he squeezed her hand.

They were inside the most magical of places, the Kiva, the cave, the womb of mother Earth. The place of entering in. Dark, dank, and mysterious, a sanctuary. A place of transformation. Swifty suggested that like the female womb, the kiva was a portal for spirit to travel from one reality to another.
They sat on the cool, red earth as Swifty built a fire. He explained that he was going to chant some prayers in his native tongue to invoke spirit helpers and that the two of them were welcome to vocalize as well, in whatever fashion they chose: words, prayers, song; as long as their intent was to call for guidance from Spirit. Our heroine was not only a writer, but fancied herself a singer as well, and she began to improvise vocals that were hybrids of Lakota tunes and South African rhythms she had heard before. The photographer added to the cacophony by praying out loud for all the good things he wanted to happen for his family and friends.The acoustics in the Kiva were astounding and created a sense of euphoria that was exhilarating. She secretly wished she could have a recording of the chant because it struck her as improvisation, creativity, and spirituality at their finest. There was no need to even break them down into separate categories like that. They were all one. She sneaked a tiny peak at her love. His eyes were closed and he was smiling. They were both ecstatic. Soon, Swifty began to wind-down his chanting and they followed suit.
After a moment or two of silence, Swifty asked them to clear their minds and join him on a journey back in time. He chanted the word, “remember” over and over, for what seemed like an eternity, and she sensed he was entering a trance. He had asked them to allow images or pictures to enter their mind’s eye. For a while, she saw nothing and decided to just focus on her breathing. As she relaxed more deeply, she began to see quick flashes, like photos projected on a screen. They seemed to be images of the middle ages: castles, horses, sword fighting, lots of mud, and dreary looking weather. She thought that it was filthy, this locale she was seeing, and she wouldn’t want to live there. But just as she had this thought, Swifty said softly, “try not to judge what you’re seeing. Just observe.” (A bit eerie how he seemed to know what she was thinking.) Soon the images became like a movie, and she had the feeling she was watching a story reminiscent of Joan of Arc, messenger of God. She found this interesting because the mythology behind her own ruling planet, Mercury, is that Gemini (her zodiac sign) is the “messenger of the Gods."


She felt a bit like Joan of Arc, in that relating information about, or from, “the divine” was part of her life’s purpose. She was a spiritual devotee, one who believed that all paths lead to the divine, even those that seem dark or difficult. Sometimes humans can be so dense or preoccupied with trivial, mundane things that the universe has to create tragedy or some type of pain or hardship in order to wake people up, so that we learn the lessons we came here to learn and move to the next level of consciousness. She thought about how dense she must have been because it had taken a lot of pain, years of it, in order to absolutely break her heart in a manner that would force it to stay open and let love flow freely in and out. The biggest mistake she had made was making the pain a part of her identity, believing herself a victim. However, in the end, Pain had been transformational and she had cocooned herself from society for a while in order to really heal. Emerging from the chrysalis of healing, she felt that new life was beginning inside of her; she was seeing life from a new vantage point. She was feeling free these days, but the price she had paid for that freedom was not unlike that of a soldier at war. In the end, she became so fed up with being in pain that she had gathered up all her force of will and changed her life. Pain is one of the most powerful teachers that we have in this life. Transforming that pain into compassion via empathy is the greatest triumph of the human spirit. Further, transforming empathy into action, according to Nelson Mandela, that "respects and enhances the freedom of others" is a soulful goal that can lead to an alternate reality of unity, rather than one of fear and domination. She knew well from personal experience that sometimes one has to go through darkness in order to find the light. She knew, from having gone deep within herself, to places where most people fear to tread, that light and dark, masculine or feminine (or any opposite energies) exist within one another, not separately. And it's not true that light is good while darkness is bad. The purpose of life is to integrate these opposing energies within ourselves … sometimes a lonely and daunting path … sometimes alive and ecstatic. Like now. She couldn’t wait to hear what her love was experiencing.

He was seeing a lot of black. The darkness reminded him of outer-space. He thought about all the times they’d gone camping and stared up at the night sky, the stars, the cosmos, and felt something sublime, an affinity, a recognition that “outer-space” exists within himself. He had first gotten in touch with his “inner-space” while taking acting classes in college. He had gone so far inside himself as an actor attempting to portray another human being that he felt he had gone to another place, a place beyond himself, beyond empathy, where he could tap into universal consciousness. There were these moments he had experienced onstage, where time stopped and there were no thoughts, only a hyper-real sense of being fully in the moment, where nothing else mattered but the awareness of this moment.

But he had never heard his fellow actors describe any such experiences, for them it was all about the ego, and after a while that superficial quality led him away from acting to seek
others like himself. He had found the love of his life, his soul-twin through photo-journalism, and together they were seeking a community of like-minded souls, which is what had led them to this very moment.

The blackness behind his closed lids had turned into a swirling purple haze, the color of spiritual “sight.” He saw images of bats: sleeping, flying, hanging upside down. Later, Swifty explained that bats are symbols of transformation, a reflection of what is transpiring deep within the psyche.


Presently, Swifty said he was going to blindfold the duo for their climb back up the ladder and their re-entrance into ordinary reality. The blindfold represented the veil between the worlds. When they reached the top they would begin to see life anew with the insights they had gained in the Kiva. When they got to the top of the ladder, Swifty explained that as they returned to the surface, it would be as if they were emerging from the womb of Mother Earth. So, they climbed up the ladder and sat at the opening of the kiva in silence until Swifty came up to take the blindfolds off. He asked them to each come up with an intention that they wanted to carry out into the world with them. He gave them each a candle, and as they were lit, Swifty asked them to speak their intention aloud. Verbalizing creates a vibration in the material world that aids in bringing intentions out of the world of thought and into physical reality. As she spoke her intention, she became overwhelmed by a heightened sense of reality. She began to cry with the recognition of the sheer beauty of this world we live in. At that moment, she felt that everything in the world was perfect and beautiful and as it should be. She realized that even during difficult times, things are actually unfolding as they should. Sometimes difficult events in our lives help us see where we have gotten off-track, or they give us the experience we will need to deal with what lies on the road ahead. But it was this feeling that everything was as it should be that filled her with wonder.
And if the two of them could find a community of people that were truly interested in doing the same, then they really could create a little bit of heaven on earth. It’s like Margaret Mead said, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”
She thought about this man by her side and what an absolute miracle it was that he appeared in her life: her mystic man, her best friend, partner, and fellow mischief-maker. If she were to interpret her life as a waking dream, she realized that he was a mirror, a part of herself being reflected back to her. Loving him was loving the deepest parts of herself, and in turn, loving the source that created us all.

Suddenly, she remembered a line from a play. The play was that old chestnut, “Our Town,” and Emily Gibbs asks, “Does anyone ever realize life while they live it? Every, every moment?” And she was sure that there were people who did. Thornton Wilder may have been one. Swifty may be one, Buddha, Jesus, the Dalai Lama, Ghandi, Martin Luther King, the avatars in India. She longed to be like them, to fully realize life and her soul’s true purpose.

Child of Nature

When we last checked in with our protagonist, she was in Marble, CO at the Kiva contemplating the play “Our Town,” and the character Emily Gibbs asking, “Does anyone ever realize life while they live it? Every, every minute?” And she was sure that there were people who did. Thornton Wilder may have been one. Buddha, Jesus, the Dalai Lama, Ghandi, Martin Luther King, the avatars in India. She longed to be like them, to fully realize life and her soul’s true purpose.

Today, we find our beloved heroine standing in the middle of the North Star Nature Preserve near Aspen, crying. Elated and saddened at the same time, she feels so alive with the energy and beauty of natural-majesty all around her, yet feels her spirit being bludgeoned by this repetitious pattern of having to take meaningless jobs where she caters to people’s superficial egos and meaningless desires.

She is standing in the middle of Creation, at the edge of a pond, searching the protective peaks all around her, pleading with Jesus and all the ascended masters: "how do I create the reality that I want to live, the one where I am like Anne Labastille in Woodswoman, or like Drunvalo Melchizedek, who gave up mundane society and walked off Into The Wild to live in the mountains and forests? How do I get back to the Garden?”

Ever the rebel and freedom-fighter, she’s not even remotely interested in the never-never land reality of some glamorous second-home-playground to the rich and famous, but is soulfully and ardently enchanted with the thought of living in harmony with nature, in living simply, in living off the land, not taking any more than she needs, and enjoying the roses along the way -- like Henry David Thoreau. She knows in her heart she will be living her Truth when she is learning how to navigate wild terrain, living off the land, chopping her own firewood, because she never feels more alive than when engaged in a nurturing dialectic between Mother Nature and her own Wild Nature. How many times has she envied women who know all about herbs, berries, trees, and all the wild plants of the earth: which are edible? which are not? which are good for tinctures and medicinal uses? which make the best pies? To be able to read animal tracks and habits, to understand the cycles within cycles and seasons within seasons the way tribal peoples do. She has been longing for a teacher, a soul-mate, a miracle, a deus-ex-machina to appear and lead her to that cozy little log cabin in the woods that she yearns for. Not a log-home Mc Mansion, but a rustic one-room cabin, with a woodstove and enough room for herself and her fellow mischief-maker; a place of simplicity and clarity from which to learn the ancient ways.

She recalls days in childhood when she was taken to the woods to cut down trees for firewood, calling “Tim-berrrrr!” at the top of her lungs; the gorgeous scent of pine-soaked days making her ecstatic; days spent gathering sap in buckets to make syrup; days in the forest picking blueberries; endless hours spent traipsing through the woods following myriad paths, seeing miracle after miracle … these have been her happiest hours on Earth.

She hikes into the unknown with reckless abandon, exploring a new and mysterious path, and suddenly her "baby" shows up after been "on assignment." She grins as she slowly sizes him up while he approaches; he radiates warm sunshine, and she is ecstatic. He winks at her and says, "Hello, my Love. Did you miss me?"

Like her, he is a journalist/photographer: an imaginative Intuitive, a creative-writer, an visual/abstract thinker. He longs to live in a log cabin in the woods, where together they can pursue their love of writing, and their desire to photograph and be-one-with-nature, with full fervor. After sharing the trail and baring their souls over countless hours, he stops her dead in her tracks and tells her that she is his best friend and ally, and asks if she really wants to be free!?! And if she does, will she go with him and really do what they’ve been talking about doing? She doesn’t even hesitate. She smiles that secret smile. In her mind, they're already gone. They are already deep in the beautiful wilderness, miles from anywhere, building their dream homestead, and they are oh so blissfully happy.

Red Fox and the Pathway Home

Red Fox and the Pathway Home
by Kathryn Preston


The Full Harvest Moon illuminates

my wild inner landscape,

currently eclipsing the external world.


The Night is an

old kodachrome negative:

solids are light,

nebulous spaces, dark.

Sitting Indian-style on Mother Earth,

she asks the universe for a sign.

Suddenly,

A Red Fox trots,
stops,
and talks.

He brings a message from the Unseen.

"You live in the 'in-between,'

light and dark,

dawn and dusk,

following Nature’s musk

to the doorways of other worlds.

Listen.

Fox ears HEAR Spirit.

Close your eyes and listen.

I am your brother, and Like you

I carry all of creation within me.

FREE YOUR CREATIVITY.

This is your pathway Home."

The Old Druid by Kathryn Preston

The Old Druid
By Kathryn Preston


To the Druid,
the Mighty Oak is King,
but the Pine Tree
does it for me.
Lovely Pine Tree
protects,gives privacy
to those who scamper
beneath her eaves.
She has no leaves
to drop in Fall.
All in all,
she stays tall and full
year 'round,
standing her ground,
whistling her sacred song
when the spirit we call 'wind '
comes along to speak with me
through the Pine Tree.

Her branches
reach toward heaven
seeking her boon
like an old Druid
'drawing down the moon.'

Surrounded
by precious Pines,
it's here I feel most "at home."

Nature as Metaphor

Let's suppose, as Denise Linn did in "The Secret Language of Signs: How to Interpret the Coincidences and Symbols in your life," that I am a soul existing in the great dark void (before being birth into the material, earthly plane), and in all objectivity, my soul realizes that I need to learn humility in order for my soul to evolve to a higher level of consciousness. To this end, I engage another soul who is particularly loving toward me, saying, "I need to learn humility. Will you incarnate with me on Earth and play the role of my abuser?" This scenario, put forth by Linn, suggests that we have an existence prior to our earthly existence, and that we actually choose our roles, circumstances, and experiences on Earth before we ever hit that portal known as the female womb, the gate-way to human life. (Incidentally, have you noticed that people who have near-death experiences talk about the light at the end of the tunnel? I wonder if the "tunnel" out of this earthly experience at death is the same as the birth canal that is the tunnel into this existence? When we die here on earth, are we simultaneously being born somewhere else?) This scenario also contains the basic elements of Theater. My experience as an actor and writer has led me to believe that Theater itslef is a metaphor, a mirror, reflecting the underlying structure of reality. My entire being resonates with the idea that our souls are directors and playwrights, consulting with various "players" (soulmates) to establish a rough story-outline before arriving on planet Earth, where we then improvise the "meat" of the scene (our human lives). The point is to imagine that we are all here on Earth co-creating a cosmic drama for reasons of individual and collective soul-growth.

From this perspective, birth is not just the beginning of our existence on Earth, but in the larger picture, it is the process by which spirit transforms into matter for the purpose of evolving to a higher consciousness. This perspective also suggests that we have actually chosen the life we are leading, and the characters around us, for very specific reasons. Hence, none of us are victims. Coming from the perspective that we are spiritual beings having a human experience allows us to believe that we already have the ability to direct our lives toward ultimate soul growth. We are so much more powerful than we have been programmed to believe by unconscious (fellow) humans, and it is up to each of us to shake ourselves out of lethargy and complacency to remember who we really are and what power is truly ours.

There are multiple reflections of this theatrical metaphor in the world of men and matter. Whether it is children playing "pretend" in order to explore their developing powers or to try out possible roles in the world of adults, or grown men acting-out their interior conflicts by projecting their fears onto "others" in the world, we humans create drama. Drama is conflict. The only way we humans seem to learn anything of any importance is via struggle. Moving through conflict, we come to new levels of understanding. If we understand the basic premise that life is a mataphor for larger spiritual realities, then we can begin to "see" reality in a different manner. Just as almost every word that Shakespeare wrote carries a double or multi-layered meaning, we humans must begin to see our world with the eyes of the soul, to behold actions, behavior, and events as double-entendres. Just as ancient Astrology, Runes, Tarot, Alchemy, etc. use symbols to convey esoteric meanings, we must behold every-day events as symbolic of a larger esoteric reality.

To illustrate my point, I will relate a 'drama' that occurred in my life and my esoteric interpretation of the event. A few years ago, I arrived in Colorado seeking the guidance of a spiritual teacher. What I found was a sexual predator. At that point in time my story was enacted for me in nature because it is not easy to see our own story from an objective vantage point until it is presented externally for us. A week or so after I had been raped, I went into the woods, looking to Mother Nature for her special brand of nurturing and healing. As I hiked, I enountered three deer. Two of the deer were on the hillside above me, obviously awaiting something, looking in my direction with great intensity. I knew they were aware of me but they didn't move away from me as I expected them to. I lay down on the ground watching them for ten minutes, but they didn't move. I decided to move forward on the trail. I had only taken two steps when something rustled in the brush beside me! It was a deer that had been hit by a car and was dying in front of my eyes. As I didn't want the poor soul to suffer any longer than necessary, I ran back to my apartment, called the CDOW and gave them the location of the deer. Then I returned to the deer and sat with it as it neared death. I have never seen anything quite so profound. The deer glared at me with a highly potent mixture of wild-fear and self-protection. At the same time, the deer was becoming so weak that as its eyes bore through me with laser-like intensity, its neck muscles began to weaken and wobble in slow, concentric circles. I have never, before or since, seen such a display of strength and vulnerability at the same time. The CDOW representatives arrived and mercifully put the deer out of its misery. Secretly, I knew that this drama was intended for me to "see." I understand what indigenous peoples know: that the earth and its inhabitants are reflections that teach us about ourselves. I knew that the deer's death was a reflection of what was happening to me internally. I was witnessing the death of a part of myself, my old personality, and the old ego patterns. I wept bitterly for the deer and for myself. I had seen the utter terror in the deer's eyes before it's death and knew that the fear was my own, for I did not know what trials awaited me on my journey (initiation) through the “valley of the shadow of (symbolic) death.” However, I now know that my old persona had to die in order to allow my spirit to be guided by the ultimate spiritual teacher, my own soul. This Spring as signs of new life appeared all around, I saw three deer race down the hillside, hurdle a split-rail fence, and sprint through my backyard! They were full of vitality, excitement, and energy! I saw that they were a renewed reflection of me, that my time in the dark night of the soul had ended, and that I would soon emerge from my chrysalis to experience re-birth, resurrection, and transformation into a new life and new way of being.

If life on Earth is a cosmic drama, a reflection in matter and form of the unseen spiritual reality, then the seeker may begin to ask, "What is my role in this drama? What is the larger picture? Who am I?" At first it seems terrifying to not know who you are, to witness the deconstruction of one's own personality, but this is only because we have been so programmed and conditioned to buy-into incredibly narrow identities and limiting realities, based on marketing schemes and religious dogmas designed by people who want to turn us into a bunch of homogenous, zombie-consumers who will believe whatever we are spoon-fed. The people running this country do not want us to know our true, infinite, personal power because that would mean they would not be able to control our minds and by extension, our purse-strings. I have come to the realization that it is much more liberating to not know exactly who you are, because rigid ideas about identity stop you from experimenting, learning, and growing. If you already think you know everything, nothing new can break through your programming. Allow yourself to not know so that new answers will grow.

Listen to the voice inside you. Anyone who claims to be a guru or teacher is suspect. A true teacher tells you to listen to the wisdom with in you. Your dreams are part of your own inner wisdom and no one can take them away from you. Mine your dreams for the gold within. Discovering the mystery within my nocturnal dreams and learning to unlock their secrets is the very thing that kept me alive during my darkest hours of recovery from rape. Like Carl Jung in his autobiography, I have found that the world inside myself is far more interesting than anything happening in the often superficial, misguided, external world. The inner world is also the true portal to the cosmos. Outer-space is really the space inside us. People who poo-pooh others' spiritual beliefs because they don't coincide with their own thinking are petty tyrants. The saying, "do unto others as you would have them do unto you" was around long before the time of Christ. The pagans, adherents to nature-based spiritualities, observed nature and saw that when one person tries to control or harm another, they are only hurting themsleves, for they understand that we are all One in the larger scheme of things. If you go back far enough in history and time, we all come from the same place and we are all related. That is the natural order of things.

Shakespeare wrote: "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and entrances; each man in his time plays many parts." The phrase "in his time" seems limited (to life on Earth). What if "our time" is multifarious in terms of levels of consciousness, different planets as schools of thought, and infinite/simultaneous realities? I believe that if I can even think the thought that we are multi-dimensional beings with infinite powers, then the reality is possible. I am finding that when I operate from the assumption that my mind and heart together are capable of creating anything I want, then these things actually begin to manifest. This is the knowledge that the heirarchy of men, The Church, and the Establishment have sought to suppress for thousands of years. The process of Birth is not only the entrance of spirit into this physical plane, it is a physical metaphor that expresses the esoteric mystery, the formula for creation, and its blueprint lies within each of us.

If we stop thinking of the terms "Mother" and "Father," and "Masculine" and "Feminine" in terms of gender or genitalia, and start replacing these ideas with the more accurate definitions of the energies they represent, we can start creating a new understanding, a new paradigm. Father or Masculine energy = "willpower," "action," "sowing, planting." Mother or Feminine energy = "intuitive," "receptive states," "gestating thoughts, ideas, or seeds that are nurtured, cared for, protected until ready for birthing, manifesting, or becoming reality." The feminine is the energy or the vehicle that harbors new realities. The symbolism of Mother Mary holding the child Jesus is a metaphor for spirit having entered into the physical plane. The word "Christ" means "soul-directed." Thus, it is the spirit that is soul-directed that manifests new realities, that births new consciousness into being. My trauma, my “drama,” has been a spiritual path that has been instrumental in getting my spirit back on track by becoming guided by the soul instead of the ego.

Kathryn Preston