'There comes a time when a mystic
must clear the decks she's given orders on
and bless her enemies as herself.'

"Now where did that come from?"  I muse, high on the rock ledge where I'm writing this down.  And slowly the memories begin to sift in:  the rough seas, the salty spray, the urgent sense of dire necessity. The storm's ferocity is clashing spit and foam into my mind's eye intensity as I stand glaring down my mates, a rough and tumble batch of sea faring men that stand afore me, mean and muttering, but not so mean as me, their captain.

It's thirteen years ago and I'm lying on a massage table out here in an open field.  It's a warm summer's day.  My friend Elka, a reiki master healer, is filling my body up with light.  My head is to the north and the northern mountains, which are about a mile away, are flowing their energy and sbutle substance through my open mind.  I'm see the mountains and the vistas expanding out to the horizons, both inside and outside of my closed but watchful eyes.

The sky and the earth seem to engage my expanded awareness and I see delicate filigree patterns of light connecting me out into these vistas.  Tiny little golden lights twinkle at the interstices of my expanded etheric body which creats a spacious three dimensional warm matrix of sky, earth and me.  If fills me with joy and gives me courage.  I am so far beyond my limited physical self, so uplifted and yet so communing with my mighty neighbors.

And then this matrix of electromagnetic light seems to coalesce closer around me and though it still is of light it now seems just a bit denser and more luxuriant.  The color as it it is embracing through my aura is a brighter, lighter yellow and I feel it suffusing me with happiness.  As it begins to enter deeper into my personal physical space, I notice that the yellow becomes more golden pink and I'm see places in my body that light up with this energy of joyous compassion.  But I'm noticing other places, not able to receive and surrender to it so well.  There the light becomes a fiery pink as it permeates and effercesces deeper into my flesh and blood and psychophysical blockages I feel the fizzling zeroing into my chest where my chronic pain hides out.  Like a hissing fire it's burning through the dross of the muscle and mind that surrounds and protects my heart.

I'm breathing and weeping, breathing and weeping.  And then I'm just seeing this scene of the stern captain in the eye of the storm, blasting his intentions into his shipmates.  "There will be no mutiny here!  Every hand together now!  Tis the only thing twill get us through!"  And as that scne is playing itself out another takes its place.  An older, more ornate boat, a differnt captain and another crew.  As as that one is finishing showing itself, the particles of the picture rearranged themselves anew into a third scene of yet aother sea faring vessel. Tis smaller and simpler and from an earlier era with another rough and ready strong willed captain.

I am starting to be bemused by all of this when again there is a rearrangement of the pictorial points and I am seeing the most gracious Hindu woman peacefully pouring a cup of tea.  She is smiling at me as if to say, "Do you remember, can you see, there is this other way you can be."

So then, that there is my challenge:  How to give out the milk and honey, with some slightly caffeinated chai for inspiration to my maties on this journey.  How to do it without cursing and coercing this ship of fools called humanity.  How to melt dow into the heart of the Guru~esse and come from such a place of peace and bliss, that when I whistle dixie the entire Union arises.