Teacher pays a visit


“I’ve missed you,” I say, choking back a tear of regret, but he silences me.

“Do not judge yourself so harshly. I am only here to show you my love. I will wait until you are ready.”

I drop to my knees. “It’s so hard sometimes. I want to talk to you. I’m hungry for your knowledge, but I am a sinful human. Other things get in the way.”

Ignoring the neighbors who may judge, Teacher transforms into the tall, human I know from the classroom. He takes my hand and pulls me to my feet.

“There is no reason to call yourself a sinner, dear one. You are far from being one.” He sits on the cement step of my porch and taps a spot next to him, where I take a seat. “Where I am from, there is no judgment. There is only love.”

He flattens my hand and places it on his chest. “Do you feel that?”

Suddenly, a flush comes over me. It travels up my arm from his chest, filling me with a warmth that can only come from a deep unconditional love. The tears that fall are not the ones of guilt that had been building. These are tears that come when the love you feel is so great you must share it.

“All we ask is that you share what we give you,” he says.

I will try to do as he says. Can you imagine what the world will be like if we all do the same?


The Dragonfly’s Student


The temperature in the room is low enough to see. I tuck my hands under my thighs as Teacher fiddles with the projector. On the screen at the front of the room, a perfect snowflake.

“We are as singularly perfect as this snowflake, as any snowflake.”

He pulls out the slide and inserts a new, uniquely beautiful snowflake.

“We are part of the whole, part of the One God-Source, and yet each of us is unique in our own way. It is our duty to perfect our own singularity.”

He walks to the edge of his stage, “Any questions?” He scans the room, ignoring raised hands. “No? Good, because there shouldn’t be any questions. We are each our own person, each unique in our own way. No one should ever aspire to be as the next person. What, honestly, would be the use of a carbon-copy snowflake?”

With that, Teacher twirls and flies away, disguised, again, as the blue-and-purple dragonfly.

Until next time, dear classmates.


The Dragonfly’s Student