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

The Truant Classmate

It’s kinda weird, you know? The way I wander the grounds of this university, aimlessly looking for focus … I keep hearing Teacher’s voice. I see my classmates heading off for class, but something always keeps me from attending. I don’t mean to, really. I just …

“Breathe, my child.”

This time his voice is so close I almost feel him standing behind me.

“Do not turn yet,” he says. “Do as I’ve asked. Simply breathe.”

I close my eyes and inhale deeply.

“Count slowly until you have reached five and then release the breath. Again, to the count of five.”

I do as I’ve been told. I’m so happy to be close to him again.

“I have always been around.”

“I know,” I say. “I just haven’t been able to reach you.” I inhale again, slowly letting the fresh spring air expand in my chest before releasing the air, leaving my lungs empty.

“Let’s try to change that now.”

I feel his presence approaching just over my shoulder. He is so near the hairs on my neck stand at attention.

“You are not ready yet, my dear student. Tell me, what has been bothering you?”

“I don’t know. Nothing, really. I’ve just been busy.” I stop and breathe, letting the answer come into my head. “Questions, sir. I guess what’s been holding me back have been the questions.”

“What questions do you have, my dear?”

“Where am I? Who am I? How did I get here? What am I supposed to be doing here?”

He places a hand on my shoulder. “I’ve been wondering when you would start wondering.”

The weight of his hand reassures me. I am not imagining things now. I hold his hand and turn to face him. “I guess I just woke up one day and the questions weighed me down. Can you help me answer them?”

I stare up into eyes that remind me of that Crayola Crayon called Cerulean Blue — the blue of the Caribbean Ocean.


Holding my hand between his, he shakes his head slowly. “Only you can answer your questions, my dear. All I can do is lead you closer to your own revelation.”

The hope his presence brought me just moments before crashes into a heap at my feet.

“I can only lead you. The lesson will not be effective if the student can’t find it on her own.” He cups my chin and turns my face until my eyes meet his again. “You are who you have always been, and your purpose is what it has always been.”

“What kind of cryptic answer is that? Don’t I deserve more? Haven’t I been a faithful student? I deserve more.” Desperation tears at my voice.

“You already have more. What does your heart tell you?”

I want to turn away and storm back to my room, but I’ve wanted this for so long, wanted to be here, learning from my teacher, feeling his love and encouragement, feeling completely accepted. I’ve missed his classes and the peace that covers me when he’s near.

Then he reads my mind, “Don’t you think that might be your answer?”

“What?” I replay my thoughts before I speak again. “That all I’ve ever wanted is to be your student and to feel loved and accepted?”

“Do you think?”

“I don’t understand. If this is what I want, why can’t I find my way back?”

“Did you, maybe, make someone else’s expectations your own?”

Then I remember that day. I remembered my best friend in high school and how successful she became when all of her dreams came true. That’s the day I wondered why my dreams seemed just beyond arm’s reach. That’s the day I questioned my choices.

“Until you’ve come to terms with those questions, you will continue to have problems finding me. Just remember that I will always be here to love and welcome you.”

My teacher stands with me, holding my hand, answering the questions he can answer, until I’m ready to walk on my own and watch him fly away as the breathtaking purple and blue dragonfly.

I hope I can find my way back soon.

Until then, I remain your ever faithful, if sometime truant,

Dragonfly’s Student

Random lesson.

“Today’s lesson is brief,” Teacher says as he flutters overhead. “Everything has something to do with everything, but one thing has nothing to do with the other.” The Dragonfly makes a fly-by pass just by Irreverent Student’s ear before settling on the edge of his podium.
seymour.web2 “You are to ponder that thought for homework and be ready to discuss it next class.”

Without transforming into the teacher we know and love, the Dragonfly flies off into the sunset, his order leaving a ghost-like trail behind him.

Until next time, dear classmates, I remain your loving

The Dragonfly’s Student

The Lesson in the Butterfly Garden

This is going to be a long class.

“You are still yourselves, dear ones, and I will change you back to your former bodies as soon as this lesson is complete.” The dragonfly that is our teacher flutters over us before joining us, but we are not in the classroom today. “It is such a beautiful day,” he had said while leading us toward the butterfly garden. He waved his hand and the transformation began.

All I remember next is watching an almost-extinct Miami Blue Butterfly fluttering around the yellow flowers of a Grey Nicker vine. I remember being amazed that it seemed to be growing in size until I realized I was shrinking.

“In case you can’t tell,” he says now, “we have become inchworms.”

“Worms?” screeches Hope. She returned to class today to say her official good-byes before her graduation.

I’m certain she regrets that now.

She is not the only one disgusted. Another student, the one wearing a miniature black hoodie similar to the one worn by Accepted Outsider, makes a sound as if she’s gagging. “Slimy, creepy worms … I hate worms.”

“What the hell, dude?” Irreverent Student makes a move as if to walk away. He’s a worm. The quick exit he was planning becomes a challenge. Standing upright, he flicks the half-dozen or so legs on the upper half on his caterpillar body. “This full-immersion lesson sucks the big one. I want out.”

During the gripe session, Teacher inched around us much faster than I thought caterpillars could move. The Teacher’s-Pet in me wants to speak up for the Dragonfly, but it’s as if my thoughts move just as slowly as my body. Finally, “Let’s give him a chance to explain, guys.”

He clears his throat on cue.

“Um, ladies and gentlemen.” His caterpillar mouth gives a worm-like grin.

“Not funny, Teach.”

“Actually, it is very funny. This is temporary, at least until the lesson is learned.”

Irreverent Student, who has not relaxed one bit and remains at attention, does not feel the need to change his ways now, “This is crap. Just tell us what we’re supposed to learn so we can get on with it.”

“Very well.” He transforms into a worm-sized human and walks circles around us. “Before today, if you were to come across a worm inching its way across the floor and obviously heading toward the garden, would you have helped him across?”

He waits for an answer but most of my classmates seem to have the same slow thought-process as I’ve recognized in myself.

“Gauging by your reactions to being transformed today, I supoose your answer is no, you wouldn’t have tried to help. You would have probably thought it was the worm’s personal challenge to conquer.”

I finally gather my thoughts. “But wouldn’t our help have ruined whatever lesson the worm had to learn? Aren’t our life-lessons for us to learn and conquer on our own? I mean, if we helped the worms, they would never learn the importance of choosing a safe time to cross, right?”

Some of my classmates nod their little worm heads, many, though, just wait for teacher’s answer.

“That is the assumption I believed you would make.” He transforms himself into the dragonfly and hovers overhead. “What if I were to return to the classroom to wait for you to make your way back inside? This is a lesson for you, actually.”

“But that’s not fair,” Hope says. “What lesson would we learn if we get squashed before we make it back?”

“Exactly my point, my dear. Wait for us in the room.” Hope disappears, presumably to live out her life as a human again.

“That’s not fair,” Irreverent Student speaks out. “Why’d you let her go and not us?”

“Because you have not learned.”

Feeling as bold as Irreverent, I speak up. “By helping another life form we are not robbing them of a lesson. Not always, I guess. Sometimes we are teaching them how kindness can help. Kinda like paying it forward, right?”

Suddenly I’m back in the classroom with Hope. I wrap my human arms tightly around my human shoulders, relishing the feel of being me again.

Little by little, my classmates reappear around us until finally Teacher, again in human form, appears at his lectern.

“To recap, dear students,” Teacher unrolls a road map over the classroom white board and uses an old-fashioned pointer to indicate places along the old Route 66 that essentially dissects half of America. “It is indeed a long trek to walk from the Chicagos to Los Angeleses of your life, but wouldn’t it be great if a nice family were to offer you a lift in Amarillo? You might not learn the same lessons you would have on your own, but you might learn more. Just imagine.”

He taps the map, which clatters back into place with a loud rackety-rack. Teacher then turns to face us again.

“We could stand back and watch the guy next to us struggle to make it, believing that’s his lesson to learn, or we can offer a helping hand. As you’ve all discovered, in helping another we are not taking the lesson from him, just easing the burden and maybe making his lesson our own as well.”

Slowly, he steps off the stage toward us.

“Because, really, what we all need to realize is this – this life is a shared experience. One cannot succeed without all.”

When the class has been dismissed a little later, we walk a little slower and take more time to hug our friends, asking each other to share that moment we made it back to class. Every student had an interesting epiphany.

            Until next class, dear friends, with much love I remain

            The Dragonfly’s Student

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

… One Traveler's Testimony

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