We Will Meet In Paradise

“Today we speak of one of the seven sayings of a great teacher,” the dragonfly says. He circumvents the room before coming to rest on the desk in front of the new student. The dark-haired girl, whose clothes match her hair, nearly falls off her seat when the brilliant dragonfly transforms into our teacher.

“Did you have to do that?” Admitted Outsider says. “Is this the way it’s gonna be here — shock the students until they conform or drop out? Cuz, really, if that’s what this is all about, I’ll save you the trouble.”

“No trouble at all, my dear.”

Quiet snickers volley around the room at our teacher’s comment.

Teacher swings his legs around and leaps off her desk like a Russian ballerina. “We do not try to shock here. Maybe a little awe, but no shock!”

The laughter follows him as he climbs the steps toward his stage until he settles onto the stool behind the lectern.

“Today’s lecture is a serious one, dear students, and it comes at a somber time to many on Earth. This is the season when some of your people remember the sacrifice of another teacher. Many know him as The Master Teacher – ”

“Ya mean Jesus?” the new student speaks up. “Cuz I got that shit pounded into me in bible school and I’m over that phase. All my college profs proved He doesn’t exist. He’s not real.”

Around them, the classroom has gone silent. Some of us, those who never stopped believing and those who have accepted a new definition, stifled gasps at the irreverence of this new version of our Irreverent Student, who has been struck mute by her sauciness.

Our teacher is not disturbed by this student’s confusion.

“Your professors have taught you to question.” He slips off the jacket of his indigo Dress Blues and methodically rolls up the sleeves of his iridescent purple dress shirt which I have only just now noticed. “That is a good quality for a soldier to have if we are to battle – ”

“— I am not a soldier,” she slams her fists on her desk.

“Of course, of course. Let me continue my lesson, my dear.” He walks around the stage as he tells us about this Master Teacher who taught humans the importance of love and forgiveness but was shamelessly attacked for his goodness. “He is known by many names, I call him Jesus because He is my friend.”

He looks toward the new student, who has focused her attention on the care and management of the nail beds on her left hand. Shaking his head, he lowers the lights until the room is pitch-black. It seems as if even the day outside has turned to night. The only light is a spot of white that follows Teacher as he moves.

“It is never wrong to question, but always keep an open mind. If you are not, as you say, a Christian Soldier, there is room in Universe for people like you, but there is never room for people with closed minds, for, really, where is the harm in believing that there was once, a very long time ago, a very good man who taught great lessons even as He fought for his final breath?”

Teacher seems to have taken a personal interest in this lecture.

“That day, so very long ago, as He hung bruised and beaten in front of the people for whom he dedicated His life. Instead of condemning, as many would do now, He forgave. And, when a sinful man ridiculed him even as his own life was waning, Jesus found comfort in the words of another stranger who asked to be remembered when He comes into His Kingdom. That thief had not been a ‘Christian Soldier’, as you say. He was just a man with an open mind.”

The spotlight on our teacher widens to cover the entire stage. A heavy feeling comes over me, as if something very sad is about to happen. Tears track down my face in anticipation.

Teacher bows his head, his voice barely above a whisper, “Do you know what Jesus said to this penitent thief?”

The silence seems fitting for this moment.

“Truly, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

The spotlight swings around to the owner of the voice, her voice as tender as the sentiment. Admitted Outsider, suddenly aware that all eyes are on her, wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and bolts upright in her seat, prepared to explain herself. “It’s just not accepted in the places where I lived. Being a Christian Soldier was seen as a weakness.”

“And now you can identify with the Penitent Thief.” With a flick of his wrist, the lights come back on and the spotlight disappears. “Human life is difficult, but faith, even quiet faith, is as the strongest weapon any man can have. Jesus did not teach war or hatred. He did not claim to be the only way. He did not damn those who wouldn’t believe He might have known a better path to a blessed world. He preached love and acceptance. Despite the harm that was done Him, He remained forgiving and accepting.”

“That’s a damn good lesson to teach.” He drops into the leather chair at his desk. “Class dismissed.”

Until next class, dear friends.

The Dragonfly’s ever-faithful Student

Getting on the Merry-go-round

The teacher provides the bulk of the lesson today. We must listen attentively. … or we can sit at the back of the classroom and text our friends only to come up for air when he takes away our phone!

“As the Earth evolves into the next dimension, we can either stand by and get left behind or we can ground ourselves to her vibrations and be caught up in the transition.” As the vibrations of The Teacher’s wings attest, crossing to the higher plane is simple, but our humanity oftentimes fights it.

“Wake up people,” he says. “It’s the hate that drags you down.” Teacher flits around the classroom, alighting on the shoulders of students who are busily taking notes, as if telling them to simply listen.

“The Kingdom many call heaven is one full of love. Hatred and fear are the lowest extremes of our reality. They keep us from stepping through the veil into the higher vibrations. A good example is the creatures in the wild. There is no hatred. The mouse doesn’t scurry from every flock of birds because he fears the hawk.  He functions in the life he is meant to live, heeding caution to stay safe, but he doesn’t cower in fear. He also doesn’t hate the hawk. The hawk is only doing what it was put on Earth to do. Nature works as it was meant to work.

“So, too, must we live our lives on Earth.”

Teacher flutters to the podium and transforms into the teacher we met the first day of school – a man, just like every other teacher we’ve ever had.

“The problem is that humans have that burden called Free Will. We have been given choices and we must decide which path to take without the full understanding of our purpose on this life plan,” he says, running a hand through his short, curly hair.

“Kinda sucks, doesn’t it?” our teacher deadpans. “But that’s our lot in life, isn’t it?”

“Why can’t we just live life without using that Free Will bullshit,” a classmate interjects.

Teacher laughs at Irreverent Student’s irreverent comment. It’s not a slight chuckle. The laugh tears him in half; he doubles over in tears. “You would love that, wouldn’t you?” When he finally recovers, he continues his explanation, snickering at times. “It sure would make life easier, but what would be the fun? How boring would life get if all we did was wake up, hunt out a bowl of Cheerios and hide until the meteor crashes through the roof of our house.”

He slams his fist on the podium and, in the fire and brimstone voice of a preacher, he follows it with, “Life without decision is a life without temptation. Life without temptation is a life lived without decision. A life without decision is FAILURE. How can God win if He has nothing fighting against Him,” his eyes sparkle, “or Her?”

Our teacher steps off the stage and rests on the top step, chuckling.

“No, seriously, kids. We have free will because we are part of the big picture, and we can’t very well create our masterpieces if we’re Painting by Numbers. … heh, heh. Pretty good analogy, huh?” he gloats.

“So anyway, back to today’s lesson about getting into alignment with the changing Earth, If you’re on a merry-go-round that speeds up, you go along with it because the change in speed was gradual, right?” He waits for student response, which is slow in building because too many of my classmates have dozed off.  “Right?”

When he finally gets a grumbling of yeses, he continues.

“But what if you weren’t on the merry-go-round to begin with? What if you were too busy texting your bff about you bf’s latest bullshit and you missed this ride?” He turns to one of my classmates who’s probably doing just that. “What if you suddenly realized you need to get on that merry-go-round now?”

He stands in front of that student, his hands on his trim hips, and waits for an answer.

“Wouldn’t I just wait for the next time?”

“Ahh, good try, but there is no next time. This one’s the only one ever. You’re stuck watching your friends go around without you or –”

“Could I try to jump on?”

“You could, but it would take concentration. Let’s assume there’s a spot on the merry-go-round designated just for this purpose – people who missed the boat, so to speak. You could concentrate and time the jump to allow you to leap onto that spot. … Aww, hell. Who am I fooling? That would be hard as f***.”

A gasp goes out around the room at the teacher’s unexpected swear.

“Really, kids?” He shrugs, as if to say  whatever, then, “Let’s slow down the merry-go-round and get off this analogy before we throw up our lunches.” He drags a hand through his hair as he paces the stage. “Nah, a better explanation. Earth is changing dimensions. You can’t see the change because the merry-go-round is going turtle-slow. To many of us, it seems as if it’s not moving, but step on it and it’s a completely new ride. To get on this awesome ride, you need to align yourself to a new speed.”

He throws up his hands in frustration. “I’m afraid I’ve messed up this lesson.” In a puff of light, he converts back to a dragonfly. “My only advice is to keep up with the merry-go-round before it gets away from you.”

He flutters around me twice before moving toward the window.

“Homework. Practice aligning yourself to Earth’s vibation. Imagine roots growing from your feet. The roots grow, threading through the soil and rocks beneath your feet until they reach the Earth’s core and connect you to Her soul. Then you will be as her creations and she will line up your inner vibrations to hers, as mine have done.”

He makes a couple of daredevil dips in the air, dropping down low to wake up one of our classmates.

At the student’s shriek, our teacher chuckles and floats in the window, in the space between this classroom and that place just beyond the veil.

“I’ll catch ya on the flip side, kids. Peace out!” he says.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever pass this class. Until next time, much love to you.


       The Dragonfly’s Student

The Story Behind This Blog

It happened a long time ago, or maybe just yesterday. Not quite sure, really. Time just folds over on time so that nothing is yesterday or tomorrow here.

I am The Dragonfly’s Student. That’s the most important thing you need to know about me. My name doesn’t matter. The lessons I relay are meant for all of us. Teacher gives life lessons meant to help us get through the sludge that is our reality. He also reminds us of another world; a better world. One where many of us know we belong.

This blog is free of all forms of organized religion.

I used to follow a religion. I was raised on rules, judging my neighbors for only coming to Church on Easter Sunday. I watched my friend become alienated from that place I used to call home, and then I became a stranger there, too, when the judging became alien to my soul.

Faith is definitely part of this web-log endeavor.

I have faith that a better world exists, that there are friends in that other dimension who watch over us. That there are Angels, Ascended Masters and personal Guardians. I believe in the all-encompassing Spirit whom many call God. And I believe we all have a Higher Self — a part of ourselves that understands all that Teacher’s about.

My faith is not dictated by an old man in a robe. My faith follows my heart and the lessons I learn from a beautiful dragonfly on this beautiful university campus.

Teacher is not a normal man. When he comes to us, he is a purple and indigo blue dragonfly who then transforms in front of us into a man — tall, tanned, and healthy, with long fingers that sometimes resemble the tips of wings. His head is clean-shaven, but he usually wears a hat or a baseball cap, and always his clothes are the colors of the dragonfly’s wings.

I’m getting to know my classmates better. The first, and most vocal, is the somewhat angry Irreverent Student, who has become, more or less, my friend. Another classmate is a girl named Faith, but she’s hardly in class anymore. I think she’s got an internship.

I invite you, my readers, to take this journey with me. I am told graduation will be glorious, but I’m still trying to figure out where this school is …. and how I got here.

Yours Truly,

The Dragonfly’s Student

My Life Map Mystery

I don’t work well with outlines. When I write I just put pen to paper and let my thoughts flow until they build a bridge to understanding for my reader to access the thoughts bubbling in my mind.

My classmates hate that about me.

“It’s like you’re cheating or something,” my irreverent friend admits, tearing a sheet from his notebook and crumbling it into the nearby garbage can.

It all sounds great, I know, but it only works because I can’t think in a linear way.

“It’s not what it’s cut out to be,” I grumble. “Nothing ever comes the way I want it to. There’s no A, B, C order to my life. There are no maps I can follow to make things go faster or to help me understand where I’m supposed to go next.”

“Still sounds better,” he argues.

I’m not surprised. No one really understands what it’s like to be me. Maybe things would be easier if I didn’t know this world contained dragonflies that become teachers; that there are realities that bridge the worlds of our existence and that, sometimes, with the right coaching, I can soar like a seagull.

For some mysterious reason, I know these things, “But what am I supposed to be doing with all of this knowledge? What part am I supposed to play in this world?”

My friend has no reaction to my tirade other than a slight smirk and a twinkle to his eye before, “Maybe it will come to you suddenly one day, like everything else. That is how you say things work for you, right?”

“Good suggestion, my son.”

Whiplash nearly tears my head off as I react to the voice of our teacher standing by the window in the classroom. How long has he been here? Did he hear my questions of doubt? Will he kick me out of our class when he realizes how unsettled I have been of late?

Teacher reaches a hand out to me and I rush to grasp it.

Holding my hand between both of his he asks, “Why do you need to know why we speak to you, dear one?” He pauses as if to let me ask my question, then he releases the pause. “Why can’t things just be?

“You humans incarnate in order to live a life fresh and with no carry-over memories. The goal is to get a second chance at a first impression, so to speak. The memories come when you are ready to accept them.”

He guides me out of the classroom into the butterfly garden just outside the back door. As we walk through a flock of fluttering monarchs, he continues. “There are lessons that are made greater when there is no memory.”

“I just need to know why things happen,” I say. “Like, maybe I can do a better job at whatever I’m supposed to be doing for you if I know more.”

“Why is that?”

“So that I will know how to prepare and how to react.”

“What if the reaction you need to give is the reaction that is not planned or prepared? What if you let go of the idea of expectation, what will you lose if you simply live the life your heart tells you is right?”

The questions rush into my head in such a jumble that I can’t pick out even one. How will my life change if I lose the question of expectation; if my life is all that it needs to be? What if I lose the confusion of an inconclusive Life Map?

Then, I get it.

“If I lose the questions, I will gain the happiness that comes with acceptance.”

Again, I have learned a multitude from my Dragonfly.

Much love to you, my dear classmates,

The Dragonfly’s Student

Life Lesson — Death

“Teacher,” I can’t wait for him to finish his lecture on the peace and joy that greets souls that cross the veil between worlds. I couldn’t get my old neighbor out of my mind. “Teacher, I know all of this. I’ve accepted your words as gospel truth for years and I understand that the world that’s on the other side is better than what we have here, but why can’t I accept it when the soul that passes is like family?”

Our instructor pulls back from his lectern and steps down toward me.

“What is it you do not understand, dear one?” He approaches, holding his hands in front of himself as if holding something, then, suddenly, he’s holding a purple box. “What is causing you tears?”

He tugs on a tissue, popping the blue sheet out of the box. He taps the outside of my eye with the tissue before handing it to me.

“Why does this death hurt you so?” he says, more as a rhetorical response than anything.

That one, gentle and softly spoken question lets loose a flood of silent tears. “I know he’s in a better place, but why does it hurt?”

“You are human, my dear. Of course you are saddened by a passing. You have no idea if you will meet again. You are saddened by the eternal loss you believe is yours.”

I crumple to the ground as the tears ravage me. I hadn’t allowed myself to fully feel my pain until this moment, but now that he put words to my thoughts I couldn’t deny their truth. Yes, my old friend is in a better place; yes, my old friend no longer feels pain and no longer has to suffer the indignities of an infirmed old age. Those truths cannot be denied. Teacher has justified my guilt over feeling sadness at this passing. No longer will I compare his passing to the passing of young souls as being preferable because of the length of his human experience.

Huddled into myself, I feel arms wrap around me, but they’re not arms. What I feel feeding me a kind of spiritual joy is strong and reaches around my shoulders from the small of my back to the top of my head. It is soft, yet firm. When I turn my face slightly I imagine soft feathers tickling my cheek.

“Do not feel guilty, dear one. Allow yourself to feel. That is, of course, why souls incarnate.” A warm, silken voice triggers more sobs from the depths of my soul. Eventually, though, curiosity slows my mourning. I must see what is wrapping me in a cocoon.

I pull back. Strong wings as white as freshly fallen snow slowly unravel themselves from around me to reveal their owner. My eyes lock into a set of eyes as blue as the sky on a cool winter’s day.

I wonder where teacher went, but I can’t tear my gaze away.

“We are always with you,” the angel says before wrapping me within his wings again. He doesn’t let me go until the pain has dissipated.

I apologize, dear friends. This event has caused me much confusion. I will never fully rememember or completely understand what happened that day. I just know that I was in pain and my angel took care of me.

I have always believed in angels, but I assumed I would never really see mine — after all, I am a strong woman. But I guess even the strong need to fall sometimes. How else will we truly learn?

Yours most sincerely,

The Dragonfly’s Student

The Dream: Without A Net

“My hands securely clutched the rock face as I travelled through the air like a seven-year-old on monkey bars, except I’ve never been able to cross those playground bars as easily as I travelled on those ledges I grasped, then I wondered what I was crossing and it was like a movie.”

I lock my eyes onto my classmate’s chocolate ones hidden behind heavy lids.

“My point of view pulled back to show me crossing precariously on narrow ledges of a bottomless cliff.”

My Irreverent friend nods, his eyes just a little more open than hey’d been just a few moments before. “What did you do?”

“I woke up. The realization scared me — I was climbing without a net.”

“But it didn’t frighten you before?”

“Nah, before that I was Tarzan, flying through the air on a mission. It was cool, actually. I liked having that strength and I absolutely loved the feeling of coasting through the air. It changed when I realized that one slip and I could fall to my death.”

“What do you think it means?”

I shrug and glance around the classroom, hoping that our teacher has heard me from his perch somewhere between his world and ours.

I think this is something I must decipher on my own. One thing is crystal clear, though. I was without a care in the world when I was probably in the most danger.

Maybe you, my friends, can help.

Until later, I remain your classmate and forever …

The Dragonfly’s Student