I dreamt the other night that I was in india, watching a procession, a parade of sorts, curve along the embankment of a low rolling hill with a rocky peak.<\/p>\n
I was standing on one of these peaks and as the parade neared me, what my attention was drawn to was the cart, or float, of a magician.\u00a0 This magician was tall, with bluish hairless skin.\u00a0 He was completely bald and had 2 or 3 folds of extra skin on his neck supporting his shiny bluish skullcap.\u00a0 He wore a long black robe.\u00a0 This magician had a mirror on his cart that was almost as tall as he was, and he also had these two long, plain-looking, 2×4 like boards that were hollow inside, or at least light enough to lift easily, and they made a hollow clapping sound when he rubbed them together.<\/p>\n
This magician put the hollow boards together, repeatedly as was his main trick, and when he pulled them apart, a majestic sword would appear from between them, which he would sell to the crowd for coins and praise of fame.<\/p>\n
Impressed, I acquired one of the magician’s swords and went home immediately to brandish my new weapon in the mirror, enjoying the strength and love of my former weapon of choice.<\/p>\n
As I watched myself cut and slice the air with my new sword in the mirror, suddenly, my reflection became not my own anymore.\u00a0 The image in the mirror melted into a watery canopy from which a spirit appeared, moaning and crying like a baby.\u00a0 “Please please please can I have my sword back??\u00a0 That magician stole it from me!!!”\u00a0 Over and over again, the pleas of this spirit with the long face masked by watery essences, rang in my ears and in my heart until I realized the truth and sincerity of his words.<\/p>\n
I realized that it in this rare case, it was not the spirit that needed admonishing and guidance, but rather compassion, and my thoughts of admonition turned to the shadowy wizard.\u00a0 I stepped toward my mirror and dipped the edge of my sword into its watery surface, which rippled like a pebble had been dropped into a pond.\u00a0 The spirit gently guided the sword back into his realm, and holding its grip once again, cried in gratitude and thanksgiving for retrieving his lost love again.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I dreamt the other night that I was in india, watching a procession, a parade of sorts, curve along the embankment of a low rolling hill with a rocky peak. I was standing on one of these peaks and as the parade neared me, what my attention was drawn to was the cart, or float, … Continue reading The Magician and The Sword<\/span>