Looking in a Mirror

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We reach the music hut, a pile of drums frame the entrance, and through the door a ring of chairs beckons for us to sit, and so we answer its call. A man seats himself in the center of the room, wordlessly identifying himself as the musician. “Now the idea of sound meditation is simple, just clear your mind and allow the sound to take you where ever it may take you.” His voice soothed us into our chairs, with the same calmness as a mother whispering to her newborn child, lulling it to sleep in her arms. He reaches for a drum from under his chair; I quickly close my eyes, assuming it was time to begin. The beats begin softly, lulling us into sweet relaxation. His words eco in my head like the beat of the drum, “just clear your mind, and allow the sound to take you where ever it may take you.” I feel the sound taking the thoughts from my mind, and drifting them away, further, further, further further, further…

Two lean men stand face to face. No, rather, it is one man, split into two symmetrical parts. Their souls burns causing energy to radiate from their bodies as if they where aflame. Their faces scowl at one another, yet not allowing the rage to cloud their focus. They stand centered in an empty arena, surrounded by ancient Chinese pillars. The sun shines powerfully overhead, adding its fire to their harmony. Inhale, breathing in the energy into their souls, allowing themselves to gain fullness with its power. Their masses commenced to dance round and round the other, spinning, and circling in fullness. Lashing out with their arms as messengers of their fire to their opponent, draining their fullness into the world around them and expelling more with each surge of their rage. Solemnly they circled, as their souls danced energetically and strong, the war drums quicken, and the fires burn taller and hotter with every pulse of its beat. Dancing with its rhythm. The beat reaffirms their fullness; its rhythm becomes their law.

I awake from the trance. The musician now beats his drum energetically. I dare to open my eyes. Looking left, the woman who sat beside me seems to have become one with her chair, she is so beautiful, I wish- Stopping myself, I need to learn to put those desires aside. Forcing my eyes to scan the room, as if without judgment. The other people seem captured within the same trance, completely under the spell of the musician’s song. His words echo in my head again, “Allow the sound to take you” I apologize silently for my defiance and reclose my eyes. The song trails off and decrescendos into a brief silence. Then the sweet sound of the steel drums stings my mind. But it is a good sting, like a father sitting you down to try a new food, because he knows you will like it. It holds the energy of the drums, yet flows with the same grace of the men in my vision. His words echo yet again within my mind “Allow the sound to take you” I have forgotten. Forcing my mind from trailing once again, allowing relaxation to consume me and allowing my mind to move with the music. Sinking into the dream, deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper…

I see a man, his soul burns cool like an ocean, and it feels as though it mirrors mine, but is incomplete. An army of his kinsmen stands by his side. York looms in the horizon illuminated beautifully by the moonlight. The army’s crude iron weapons rest calm against their kilts. The man runs forward into the approaching mass of solders, a neutral essence trails behind him like a flag; he draws his sword, a beautiful blade, nothing like any of the others, a sword shares an essence perfectly to his. As he charges, the front and second line evaporates before him. He begins to assault, Cleaving his sword with the flow and grace of a river, and striking with the strength of the Nile. Spinning, circling, his sword splits through their armor as if it is cutting through air. Spinning, circling to the rhythm of the drops dripping in perfect harmony. The harmony is his music. The rhythm makes him strong.

I awake again from my vision; it has begun to rain. The steel drums still play in the background, silently melting away… until silence. It feels as if I’m still within a vision, my eyes still fixated so deeply on my mind. Moments pass, the sharp stinging beauty of the flute pierces my sanctuary. Slowly warming in, its airy sound filling the sanctuary with its light energy. I fall much more easily now, smoothly and practiced into the deep pits within my self…

A man perches on the bow of a ship, its sails flexed firm in the wind. The style of the scene dates back to the renaissance. The man’s essence feels light, but weighed down from worldly stresses. He feels suppressed, like a bird who broke his wing and has given up trying to fly. Waves break themselves upon the bow of the boat, sending it shaking up and down, to which the man seems oblivious. His focus lays solidly on the horizon in front of the boat. Spray splashes on to the deck behind him. And the boat moves with the wind behind it. The boat lands, I see the man’s black boots clop on the dock below him, proceeding to clop into a sea of houses where he docked. My vision slowly panning up to follow the man, the smell of sorrow fills my nostrils; the houses wilt like dead flowers, sheltering the dirty ones on the street from receiving the sun’s rays. A sea of boarded up windows and doors welcomes the man in, and he disappears into the polluted air.

The flute plays solemnly as I wake up. My heart beats violently in my chest. Remembering all the training on calmness I have received in the past week. Step one, deciding to act. Inhale, Bringing back the images I have just witnessed. Exhale, letting it all go into the universe around me. Silence now, the musician no longer plays. And so I listen to the music from the earth, the rain from behind me, and to the breaths of those around me, and allow for it to take me away on its story.

I float over the Sahara desert area, from a satellite view. It feels as if it is happening now. A peaceful silence fills the globe below me. In disbelief, I listen closer, nothing, just the yellow of the desert resting peacefully on the earth. Like moss across a rock the desert grew, past Turkey and into Greece, proceeding north into Russia. Slowly consuming the globe below. But I am not moved; it happens almost peacefully, with no struggle, not good nor evil, it just is.

My mind slips back, suddenly becoming aware of the chanting in the background.
Air my breath and fire my spirit, earth my body, water my blood.
Air my breath and fire my spirit, earth my body, water my blood.
Air my breath and fire my spirit, earth my body, water my blood.
Air my breath and fire my spirit, earth my body, water my blood.
Air my breath and fire my spirit, earth my body, water my blood.





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