The following is a description of a meditation experience I had shortly after the unexpected death of a good friend.
My clearing in the woods has a mature tree, which has stood there through the ages. It has fallen limbs and gnarled branches, but the wisdom immigrating from the tree radiates. The falling limbs form a seat for me, with my name carved, but barely legible, in the wood and bark. My name has been there for ages, now weathered and beaten. Waiting.
As I sit upon my seat, the leaves of the wise tree protect me from the sun. The cool breeze from the mountain river provides a respite from the warmth. The field across from my seat is filled with flowers and grasses of all types growing without restraint and forming amazing flowing patterns of color and beauty.
I’m sitting alone until a spirit takes my hand. I can’t see the spirit; I can only sense her hand. As we sit, the hand becomes clearer. It is Patty’s hand. Patty, a generous, kind soul, who gave of herself freely, without restraint. She passed on Thursday. She’s holding my hand, not to comfort me in my loss of her human presence but in preparation and awareness of my responsibilities.
I turn in my seat and look behind me. William, my main spirit guide, is standing behind me. He is dressed in medieval battle dress, a course white tunic with a blue cross emblazoned on the front of the garment His sword, enormous and gleaming, is in front of him with its tip in the dirt of the land.
I realize I am surrounded by legions of animals. Lions with huge manes and elephants stand in back of William. Other animals are also there, gathered together as a community as far as my eyes can see. Rhinos are in front of William, along with all the other animals behind them from largest to smallest.
It is time to leave this special place. Patty’s hand is gone. I look to William. He kneels on one knee, and the animals follow his lead. The noise of their tribute reverberates throughout the vale. I curtsy and say I am humbled. I open my eyes.
Edited by Holly Donath