By Carol Anzolletti
The path before us has been travelled before. We walk together, following the red tinted dew trail to a pond not far from the train tracks. The ice blue surface shimmers and reflects the face of the blue moon, truly magnificent in its timing for introspection.
The Queen stands on the other side, red mist swirling gently around Her feet. She has brought us here to this place where the earth meets the water and the sky touches its surface. Like an enormous celestial chalkboard, She taps the water with a long branch adorned with crystals and feathers, reminders of simple things found around us every day.
She swirls and stirs as we hope for Her reflection and only find our own. As the water becomes still, She recedes into the forest and leaves us to our contemplations. We can see ourselves clearly and notice the same fears and concerns. We are contagious in our desire for freedom and the truth about what has brought us here. These similarities bring us together.
Tiny bits starlight blink below the surface. Silver shadows of children slip into one another as we remember the innocence of childhood. Dark shadows of insecurity and neglect dance beside them and overcome them. Time and darkness exist together as the stars struggle to stay lit inside of us. The flame of addiction is lit deep within and we see it grow until it becomes the habit. We observe memories, sets of emotions and circumstances that led us to it. It is an artificial patch of security, placed over moments of pain and sadness. It is an unnamable substitute for structure and attention. Its black tendrils of attachment begin to grow and transform us into tainted souls, lost in anxiety and unmet expectations.
As we stand feeling this sadness of remembrance, we lose track of Her. She has come around quietly and stands behind us. She is a silent power and places Her star filled palms upon our backs. She fills us with hope and peace and wonderment just before She pushes us into the pond.
We cannot swim, we are immobilized. We sink down into depths of darkness and our eyes cannot close. We are forced to see what swims alongside us, submersed in this emotional abyss. We see phantoms of our past and shades of personalities that have destroyed and dismembered us. We see the abusive people and words that have lodged their sounds, scents and memories into our cells. We see how deeply embedded we have allowed them to become. Just when we think we will drown here and peacefully pass away, She pulls us out. We stand on the earth soaked, cold, miserable.
The surface of the water turns slick black. Her face is now reflected – old, withered…ancient. She speaks in a tone that cannot be ignored:
“What will you do with this knowledge, the re-membering of the pieces of yourself? Do you want them to remain in control forever? Can you do what is needed to dismember these old parts in the play of your life that are insignificant now? Their participation is in your way. Dismiss them, if you can gather the courage to do so. Whose permission do you need to move forward, besides your own?”
We look at each other, already knowing the answers. We hear the train coming closer and know that time will not wait for us to be indecisive about what we must do. Picking up a palm sized stone, you throw it into the pond and Her image scatters into a million fragments. The last glimpse of Her eyes sparkle for a second and everything returns to pristine condition as clouds gather above us and a light rain begins to fall.
We walk back to the platform and you light a cigarette very slowly as the train comes into view. You close your eyes and deeply inhale…exhale…then gently crush it out. You look at it and wonder how it gained so much power over you. You wonder if this thing deserves any place of prominence in your life.
The train pulls up and we do not look back. A new dawn has arrived with more promise of understanding personal willpower and the work well worth doing to support it.
We board the train and take our seats, yours again by the window. Along the horizon the blue sky still lines the morning underneath the slate gray clouds. Although we are no longer being rained on, we are still damp from our submersion into the dark water that taught us to see our addiction from a new place. As the morning rushes by with the train, we plan a new path to personal freedom stemming from the pond of reflections. This one new moment creates the first day of the rest of our lives. What will you change to support it?