The Pink Door

In meditation today, I was told to look for the door into my heart – the door that protects me from the suffering of living life on Earth. It’s time for me to break down the door, Teacher said. I do not need the illusion of protection. I need to open the door to my heart and allow myself to receive love, not just from the outside world, but from myself.

As I approached my house, I was led to a secondary entrance that I’d never even known existed.

“Come in,” the purple and blue dragonfly hovers over the door, so, with only a pause of hesitation, I step through the door. Sometimes I wonder if I’m too trusting. The door closes behind me and the point of entry disappears.

I am in a long hallway that seems to have no end, and I’m alone. Teacher stayed outside when I came in. I consider panicking, but I’m not in the mood to be needy again. Really, I’m sick of that part of me.

“Put one foot in front of the other,” the voice sings, reminding me of one of my favorite Christmas cartoons, so I do just as Kris Kringle told Winter Warlock. Funny, I hadn’t thought of myself as Winter Warlock.

I do as I’m told. It’s a long walk. The end of the hallway approaches. I feel relieved. Then I realize the hallway turns, kind of surprising since my house is really half a house! I follow that hallway to its conclusion only to be led down another. It goes on and on from long hallway to shorter hallway to longer ones again. One takes me up a short flight of stairs, another brings me down at an angle so steep I have to hold myself up against the walls.

Once, I pass Teacher wearing a tight-fitting blue Polo with the word SECURITY emblazoned over his chest. He is holding a walkie-talkie and sitting on a stool.

“Move along,” he says, like a school security guard.

“Why is this so long and boring?” I ask.

“Don’t blame me, this is the protection you’ve set up.”

Damn it.

I keep walking, my steps now infused with a renewed sense of determination. This is ridiculous. I wonder if I can make this shorter. I imagine the possibilities – maybe roller skates and tearing down the walls? Maybe a moving sidewalk?

Finally, the hallway ends at a closed door; a pink door – yeah, that’s something I’d do. At eye-level, there’s a bright-red heart like the kinds you get on Valentine’s Day, except, this isn’t a normal romantic heart. This one has the spots and antennae of a Ladybug. Out of the corner of my eye, I think I see it actually move its wings.

“You’re there,” Teacher says from behind me. “Open it.”

With my hand on the golden handle, I wiggle my fingers, but I can’t open it. Not that I physically can’t. I just can’t bring myself to exposing so much of my heart.

I turn to look at him. “What if I open it?”

“By opening it you will be allowing yourself to access the love that you carry with you.” His voice softens, “You don’t do that very much, my dear. You love a lot, but you don’t allow yourself to feel love – either of others or your own for yourself.”

“But wouldn’t opening it leave me vulnerable?”

“What is wrong with that?”

“Have you been human much?” My words come out in a sort of whine. “I don’t want to get hurt.”

“But by leaving it closed you are not allowing yourself to feel the love that flows in your heart. Don’t you want to know how much you can feel? How much you can love yourself?”

His words wend their way through the valleys of my brain and find something to latch onto. I don’t know, but I don’t want to live a life of “what if’s.” My hand, warm on the handle, finally twists it, and the door opens to let me in.

But it’s not in. It’s out. The door has led me to the back patio of my meditation house. It overlooks a marvelous view of the ocean where dolphins leap into the air and dive back into the water. As they play, I feel their joy injecting my soul. I feel light. I feel peace. I feel love.

“Are you happy now?” Teacher asks, stepping through the door to stand at my side.

My arms wrapped around me, I smile when I realize I’m hugging myself. I feel such tremendous joy right now – at the vision of the frolicking dolphins, at the brilliant blue of the ocean, at the soft breeze blowing my hair into my face, at the fact the door is now open.

“Do not doubt that you are worthy of this feeling,” a voice says. But it’s not Teacher who says this. It is Nituna, another dear Spirit Guide — the one most like my soul. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

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The Dragonfly’s Student

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