There is no longer a classroom with four walls and a ceiling. This new teacher is nothing like my Dragonfly in that world I now realize was between this world and the next for most of us.
In fact, many times my lessons now don’t originate with this teacher. They come from that place where my mind escapes when I concentrate on my breaths and the music playing as a soundtrack to this new spiritual experience of mine.
For I rejoiced greatly, when the brethren came and testified of the truth that is in thee, even as thou walkest in the truth. (3 John 1:3)
Come to think of it, this reminds me of my reaction the first time I took a graduate-level course. I was shocked that most of the lessons centered on the students and our interpretations and growth. These new lessons originate with me and that place in my heart where I feel Spirit most.
In his own inimitable style, El Juglador, or The Minstrel, reacted to my questions and guided me as I tried to make sense of what I’d just been shown. Initially, there was nothing he said that sticks in my mind, but I will never forget what he did.
Teachers I’ve had in the past have stopped lessons at spots where they want to focus my attention, making certain I truly ingest every morsel of knowledge before moving on. The Juggler is different.
In silence, he would toss his batons or twirl like a drum major leading a college band, leaving me to focus on his movements and the thoughts barreling through my every synapse.
Then, when the lesson had effectively become part of me as if I had been born with the knowledge, as if the Juggler were in my head, my teacher gathered his batons and welcomed me to discuss.
There was no class with whom to share my enlightenment. Just me, my teacher, and whatever natural phenomenon happened to be sharing the space with us.
The first time, it was a fading campfire, a babbling brook at our campsite, and Minnah, my puppy, at my feet.
“It is important that I live what makes me happy,” I said. “I have to live my truth.”
The Juggler nodded and stoked the fire with a broken branch.
“There are so many options for us, so many different parallel realities I could take. I need to choose the one that feels right. Everything else will follow.”
I waited for him to comment. He didn’t. He got up and added a log to the fire, fighting with the dissipating sparks.
Chuckling, I realized this life is not easy for him either. And the laughter gave me a revelation.
“This is where I need to be. This vibration. This joy.”
The sobering fact, though, was that my life needed to change.
I wasn’t living my joy. I was happy in bits and pieces, but I felt like a hot-air balloon tethered tightly to a post in the dry, desert night. I wasn’t living my highest vibration, the one that matches our vibrations in the spirit realm. The vibration I had been living felt foreign to me the moment I returned from that particular vision during my summer vision quest, and as time continues moving forward, the person I was just a few months ago is sick and weak.
The thought of going back to that life, to stifling my need to write, to ignoring my sense of adventure until the next time I had a few days off, dragged my soul deeper and deeper into a trench.
The decision I came to may be the dumbest one I have ever made, or it may be the smartest. I need to live out the truth that is in my heart.
After presenting it to those most affected by my choice, I am ready to share it with my readers.
I am taking an unpaid leave of absence from the classroom. Scary, I know. And I’m going on another road trip. For this one, I’ll have company. Not only Minnah. I’m taking my oldest son to share in this adventure with me. For him, I’m writing another blog. I think I’ll do another for Minnah.
I feel like I’m abandoning my responsibilities, because I am. I accept that many people may judge me harshly for this. I’m ready to face judgment, because I know that if I had continued existing in the life I had built for myself, I would barely be existing.
And I wouldn’t be living.
The lessons with my new, beloved teacher, El Juglador, will continue. And, despite the fact my Dragonfly Teacher has released me to continue my lessons, I will always be his student.
He is the one who originally found me and set me on this path. I hope my readers will be able to limit their judgment of me enough to learn from the lessons I will impart over the coming year, because I know there will be many.
Until the next lesson, I am, dear classmates, most devotedly,
The Dragonfly’s Student