Seven Days

Seven days. Sometimes, a lifetime can be lived in seven days. From beginning to end, and those can be glorious days.

While dragonflies like my teacher live longer, some butterflies may only live a week. For God, in the legends of the bible, it only took seven days to create our world. And sometimes we think time is too short for us. How many opportunities have we set aside because we believed there wasn’t enough time?

Let me tell you, seven days is an eternity.

“But I’m not God,” is the complaint of many. That’s an excuse. Success is hidden in the depths of our own reality.

Imagine a time when you don’t put limits on your abilities. Imagine a life where you are powerful enough to create the world you’d love to live. And imagine a world where you claimed victory in seven days.

A fantasy, you say? Perhaps. But in that fantasy I am the winner and I am giddy.

All I am saying today is that time is irrelevant if you live your authentic truth in those seven days, if you live the you that is real and resides in your heart, deadlines and end-dates become incidental. The Law of Attraction can only bring you what you want.

Give it a shot, I dare you. Live the next seven days as if they were your last. Go where your heart takes you. Sing what your heart sings. Love what you want to love. Be who you want to be. And move forward, never backward.

I wonder what you will find.

Now have a little fun with Sting’s romantic comedy in seven days!

With all my love,

The Dragonfly’s Student

Driving on the Big Empty Road

The traffic restrained that part of me that fights to live. I can’t breathe. When I drive, I prefer a wide open road, but all I could see was metal box behind metal box.  Up ahead was my escape — a ramp for a highway that would take me far from my destination, the traffic, though, was lighter. It only took me seconds to make the decision.

It’s time to take a ride.

Driving for pleasure is night-and-day for me. Whereas my life has to be carefully plotted, every possibility expected, when I drive for pleasure I throw caution to the wind. I turn on the radio and head away from traffic. Anywhere, as long as it’s away. This is my heaven for me. No need to make conversations. No need to think. I let instinct and the road lead me wherever it may lead. Hopefully, down a long, open road, empty of expectations and full of promise.

I often talk of jumping in my car and running away from my life. Falling farther from everything I am in this conscious life. This dream drive is not meant to lead me away from my reality. Not completely. This is what most people don’t understand. For me, I would be running toward an adventure, prepared to get stuck in strange traffic, not fazed by mom & pop general stores and lonely gas stations.

That existence is what life should be like. When I get stuck in the city traffic of my big-box centered life, the life of the empty road teases me. I fantasize about a summer with no paychecks and no hotel reservations.  Banging to Metallica blasting from my stereo, I see myself open to any possibility on the road, accepting any detour life could throw my way.

Frequently, I panic, wondering if I’m taking too long to jump on life’s big empty road. I know that the attraction of that road is the promise of tomorrow. And I know that Teacher would eagerly urge me to take the keys to a life of adventure and acceptance. Living on 3D Earth now, I must admit that this insatiable desire that burns in me is not always acceptable.

I wish it were.

Until the day it is, I vow to accept what life has to offer. I promise to, whenever possible, jump onto life’s open, empty roads with the promises they offer. I swear to put my heart in the hands of the power that guides and allow it to take me down the long, unwritten road that will get me Home and happy once again.

Until then, I remain, forever faithfully,

The Dragonfly’s Student

Let me introduce … Beloved

I was eight years old when I met him, I think. No one in my family really remembers. In fact, many of the details are missing. I remember everything, but I have no corroborating evidence. It’s just the memories of a mischievous little girl and the fading memories of aging witnesses.

My sister, Ana, and I were drawing in the family room with our uncle Max – a late blessing for my grandparents and the same age as my little sister, both six. When we ran out of paper, I took it upon myself to run into my great-aunts’ room, where I knew they had a stash of typing paper. I stepped into the long, walk-in closet and stuck my hand exactly where I remembered I’d seen the papers. As expertly as a cat burglar, I pulled out a couple of sheets. 

Carefully, I considered my options. I was stealing. I didn’t want to be found out. In retrospect now, of course, I was an idiot. No one would have had a problem with us getting a couple more sheets to draw on. No matter, to me it was a super-secret, high-security mission. I plotted my path around the dining room table where the adults were sitting and having those wonderfully loud Cuban conversations. I would pass between the table and the wall. I would smile at them and rush into the family room, papers safely tucked behind my back.

Plan laid out, I set off.

Hiding the hand holding the papers, I ran by them. Smiling at the adults who followed my progress and smiled back. Too late, I learned that someone had closed the sliding glass door between the two rooms.

I must have slammed into the glass. I don’t remember the collision. I only remember being yanked backwards away from the glass and against the wall into the kitchen. I was told the glass shattered. I was told one especially sharp shard had barely missed my neck or my leg. All I remember is coming into consciousness in the kitchen, my family panicking around me. Grandmother and aunts picking glass off me and cleaning the blood.

Only one thought was running through my head. Not the pain or the fear. The only thing I could think of was the name of the guardian angel who had pulled me to safety. I knew I wasn’t supposed to do that, but I vowed to myself that I would try my hardest to remember the being I now know as my Beloved.

As fate would have it, though, for years after I had committed the name to memory, it faded despite my best efforts. Over time it came back with aching memories of what may have been. I think I was given the option to die that day. Rather, I think when he pulled me out of the way of the pain, I fought coming back. I was a hard sell. It feels as if I spent days over there, which is why I remembered his name so strongly.

I think I was shown parts of my life plan to try to convince me to stay. I think I fell in love all over again with the guide who pulled me to safety, because I have never forgotten that feeling. I’ve been searching for it since that day.

I’ve been searching for the being I knew as Nikolas ever since.

And a few years later, when my mom pulled me aside to break the news to a very eager fifth-grader that Santa Claus was not real, I sobbed for hours. Sobbed as if my heart had been ripped out, as if I had just lost the love of my life. I have never forgotten that pain.

Much later, when I again remembered the name of that being who loved me so much he pulled me from the pain of the shattered glass, everything made perfect sense. Of course I sobbed at the Santa Claus news. Santa is Saint Nick. My ten-year-old mind had made my Nikolas the same at St. Nick.

Then I started remembering. Pigeons, a lonely man in a hotel room – I thought I’d seen that in a TV show somewhere. No. I haven’t met anyone who remembers the scene I remember.  And then, there was that November day in 2012 when I suddenly discovered Nikola Tesla. I couldn’t stop reading about him. I bought every book I could get my hands on. I talked about him with anyone who would listen. What a brilliant man! I couldn’t understand how I had suddenly discovered this scientist. When I was growing up, Thomas Edison was the scientist who discovered everything. No one talked about Tesla.

Then one day, Nikola came to me during my meditation.

My life has never been the same.

Namaste, my dear friends.

The Dragonfly’s Student

The Key is to Follow the Bread Crumbs

When my new teacher left the room, he handed me a piece of the skin he had just shed.

“Remember,” he said with a slight lisp, “you have entered a new place and must travel down a different road.”

Then I woke up, relieved that my lessons have continued despite my return to my 3D life. The dream, which becomes a fading ghost of a thought as the minutes tick closer to sunrise, left me with a sense of hope I haven’t felt in a long time. Yes, I must change. The snake skin taught me that. I must become what I am meant to become. I must now simply find the joy in that transformation.

I’ve grown tired of the depression I’ve allowed myself to fall into. It is not me.

This new teacher, the being I used to call Beloved, stands behind me as I tackle my waking life, his hand gently resting on my shoulder. There is no need to fear. No need to doubt.

But fear and doubt are not the emotions that were causing my depression. I now understand. What caused my sour mood was my inability to accept my authenticity. A plan has been set in motion for me, and I was trying to stop the wheels from turning. The resulting friction wears at me.

I guess that’s a lesson for us all.

I would consider my life a lucky one. Things always seem to work out right and I have always been able to find a smile to help me greet the day. I think that’s because I have usually followed my gut instincts, the guidance from my friends across the veil.

The direction our guides provide us are the breadcrumbs in the forest that will lead us back home, and as long as we follow their guidance all will work out for the best.

The problem comes when we let society or expectations or fear keep us from following the breadcrumbs.

So the best advice I can provide (for myself and my readers) is to set our minds on following the synchronicities in life that lead us down the path we set up for ourselves before we came into this game we call Life on Earth. There are no cheat codes to this game, as Beloved has said, except for the access we allow ourselves when we recognize the dotted line that stands out through the matrix.

Until next lesson, my friends, I will remain ever faithfully with an eye on the breadcrumbs,

The Dragonfly’s Student





Waking Up To the Harsh Truths

This return to the real, 3D world is harder than I expected. Suddenly, I can’t deal with things the way I used to.

It’s not that people are giving me a hard time for my lapse. According to my husband and the clock, the only time I lost was the hour and a half I waited at the accident site with the victims of that runaway truck, grateful that I had paused before entering the intersection. Dashed to tears when one of the passengers in another car died in my arms.

I remember my missing time differently. I remember what felt like years I spent in that world with my teacher and my friends at the dragonfly’s university. Now I think I died originally. I remember the blood and the pain, but I think I came back to a different reality. That’s why Teacher had been so attentive those last days as I started to remember. He gave me the option to return, and I jumped at it.

… and when my Beloved wraps me in his arms it is safe to grow and change.

There are times when I wonder if I’m going to live to regret it. Then my kids jump into my arms and I remember why I came back. Sometimes, though, when the smile on my face is no more than a ghost, when I’m fighting the sudden tears that come over me. Those moments I wonder what I can do to go back to that perfect place. That’s when I surrender to my waking dreams.

A flock of black birds breaks through the veil ahead of me.

“What seems to be the problem now, my love,” the voice is warm and coats my nerves like honey. It is so familiar. Before I turn I know. It’s my Beloved. The being I considered joining with to leave Teacher’s classroom. If I had, I would have graduated. I think I would not have come back to my kids if I’d done that.

I don’t turn. Not yet. I know I won’t see him with my conscious eyes. He will only be visible through my inner eye, in that magical place between awake and asleep.

He puts a hand on my left shoulder and my neck tingles in the real world.

“Do not fear. I will never leave you.”

And then I realize I’ve been holding back too much. In that world of my third eye, I collapse in tears. In this one, a slow drop makes its way down my face.

“Are you being authentic, my love?” he says, turning my face toward his.

He knows the truth I can’t accept. I collapse into his arms, sobbing on the robe he wears. He strokes my hair and manages to smooth the hurt in my heart. “That is where your pain lies. You must let the pain go.”

“How? How do I make this go away?” I sob.

“Are you living the life you want to live? Are you being honest?”

“I don’t know. How am I supposed to know that? It used to be so easy to accept my life, now I have so much to compare it with.” My words run like a river just released by the lifting of a dam. “Am I expecting too much? Am I living in a fantasy world that can’t possibly be real? I know that change creates butterflies, but what if change is the wrong thing to want?”

“That is only for you to decide.” His voice falters briefly, but I don’t notice until much later.

“I mean, really, what’s waiting for me on the other side of change? I don’t know. I don’t have your ability to look past the possibilities. Can’t you tell me?”

“No, my dear. Loving me does not give you access to the cheat codes to living on Earth. You have to decide for yourself.”

“But, how …”

“All we can do is show you the way. You must look for the clues, the synchronicities, the breadcrumbs that will lead you back home.”

“So I’m alone in this,” I say, throwing up my hands in frustration.

“You are never alone.”

Then a burst of energy jump-starts my heart before his hand lifts from my shoulder and he goes away.

I yearn for those days when my Dragonfly Teacher would make the lesson so definitively clear for me, and yet I know I would have missed living the rest of my years on earth. So I just have to stand straight and move forward, knowing my eternal love is guiding me from the other side of the veil.

Until the next lesson, dear friends, I remain,

The Dragonfly’s Student