From the upcoming book, Inside the Dream:Â My Romance with Meditation
(Article originally published in 2007)
My spirit guides don’t want me to be sad about my closed heart.
I go into a meditation—what else can I do when I feel this sick?—to ease my aches and the colors comes vividly. Oddbally juxtapositions that make me smile.
They show me sidewalks being built along a dirt road in Georgia, where I know there are no sidewalks, nothing but swamp, and yet there are sidewalks being built over the swamp so I can walk where I wish, where I’d not thought possible.
There are buildings I thought I knew so well, and I am opening the door to a small closet area, thinking it’s the last of the unknowns and someone opens the door next to it, and shows me
many more rooms inside this place I thought I knew. A bright and sunny room that’s been hidden from most, but it’s there and just now unlocking and opening and I am standing at the edge to see what’s in there and being invited in.
There is a favorite store, a store in the mountains that sold museum pieces and estate jewelry, a place where I remember diamonds and alexandrite and unusual gemstones, not for their cost but for their color. This place has been closed for years, and yet I am suddenly walking through, admiring the sparkles here.
There are gardens, lush gardens, rising now from seeds long ago planted. Seeds I had thought had not taken root. And it’s a beautiful garden spot, more beautiful than I’d dreamed.
And then someone standing close to me, a guide, says that I’ve spent a lot of years sending out my love to others and the time is coming when others will send their love to me in the same way. It’s a connection to the past—and to the future. The return of what I have sent out. A full circle.
The guide tells me that things can never go back to the way they were, that you can never truly start over with anything or anyone, that you cannot take up with where you left off, that you can start again only from where you are now.
And that’s when I open my eyes.
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