I ARRIVED AT the workshop area quite a bit earlier than usual. Lillian was already there and asked how I'd done in the evening discussion with Roland. I told her he'd made me realize how important this journey was in my life, and then she and I began talking about our experiences since being at his home. She told me she was sorry I'd missed going to the springs with them, and when I asked how it was, she was animated.

"It was marvelous! The water was hot, the wind was warm, and the night was spectacular. I wanted to grab my paints and capture the Lady of the Night." Lillian was enraptured.

"Who's the Lady of the Night?" I asked.

"She's the light that comes from the combination of colors when the weather conditions are just right. There's an old tale that when the religions of Europe came, they swept all vestiges of Mother's reign on earth aside. They called this takeover the Patriarchy, and it was especially jealous of her colorful creations, so it banned beauty. Everything became drab, colorless, and non-sexual.

"To make her presence known to her children so they wouldn't forget her, Mother used her colors to paint the sky... especially in the southwest, because the patriarchy had not yet found the means to control the heavens. In this way, the people of earth could look up to beauty, since they were not allowed to have it on earth ... and there's nothing like the sunsets of New Mexico. They are magical."

I smiled. "What a lovely story, Lillian. I'll bet you are a wonderful artist. You are so impassioned by what you see, and you are so lyrical in your presentation! It must be terrific to always have had this gift."

Lillian shook her head. "I didn't always have this gift," she said. "I had to earn it."

I was surprised. "Haven't you always been an artist? I had the impression that you've lived in Taos for years and have a wonderful life in the artist colony there."

She tilted her head back and laughed uproariously, speaking in her husky voice. "Oh, good God, no! I used to live in the Bay Area, like you. This is my third incarnation!"

My curiosity was piqued. "Do you mind if I ask what happened?"

Again, she shook her head. "No, I don't mind. We've got a little time before the group arrives, so let's sit down, and I'll tell you."

Lillian was remarkably candid. She had married while in college and quit school, working at odd jobs to help her husband finish his degree. He went on to get a Master's Degree so he could teach at the university level, and she again deferred her own education for his. Meanwhile, the Korean War broke out, and the young men were being drafted. When her husband realized he would be called up, he insisted that they have children so he wouldn't have to go. She had wanted to complete her education in art before starting a family, but he convinced her to wait.

As the years went by, she had three children, and her inclination to go back to school was replaced by concerns around the children and her desire to help her husband. He had finished his degree, started teaching, and began writing books that were considered brilliant in the field of economics. As his notoriety grew, he began to lecture throughout the country and the world. Lillian was left home to care for the children, and always wondered when there would be time for them to be a family. He was on a fast track with his career, and that seemed to consume him.

As his position and stature grew within the world, his need for more and bigger also grew. First, he wanted a more prestigious house. Next, he wanted the Porsche, the Mercedes, the van, then the boat and yacht club, the children in private school, the country club. With each acquisition, Lillian kept thinking this would be the one that would make him happy, and they could finally enjoy what they had. It took 18 years for her to realize that this was never going to happen.

He went back to school to get more degrees, to make more money, and began investing in real estate. Lillian said that as time went by, he was barely able to sit still, and one day she looked out the bay window of her twelve-room house and asked if this was all there was. It was at that moment that she knew if she stayed within the marriage she would die.

She had suggested simplification. He wanted more. She said they'd needed counseling. He said everything was fine. She asked for a little of his time. He said he was busy ... and so it went until the lifeblood was squeezed out of the marriage, and she knew she would have to leave.

"How did you do that?" I asked, thinking about my own failed marriage.

"Not very graciously. I found a lover. I was so desperate for someone who would show interest in the things that were important to me, who would want to spend time with me, that I wasn't terribly discreet. It was a very messy divorce!"

Lillian said that the children had been devastated, as had their entire community of friends and associates. Everyone thought she and her husband had the perfect marriage and were the epitome of the perfect couple.

"It was like all those programs on television ... Ozzie and Harriet, Father Knows Best, Leave It to Beaver. Everything looked just great, but in the end, they all got canceled ... and so did we." She looked off into the distance, and I could tell these were powerful memories that haunted her.

"You know, the saddest thing about it was that we were both decent people. But our reasons for marrying in those days were so distorted. We never considered the consequences of our choices, and he and I were as philosophically opposed as any two people could be. I mean, how do you reconcile art and economics ... this was pre-80's, for God's sake!"

She laughed, and I joined her. Looking back at my own short-lived marriage, what she said hit home. Our reasons for marrying were very shallow. Lillian was a good 15 or 20 years older than I, but we in the baby boom years had no concept of relationship reality. I remember a friend of mine who confessed that the reason she married her husband was because he wanted her to go to Europe with him. This was in the transition time before "free love," and most men and women didn't go off together without benefit of marriage. The problem, she said, was that she hadn't counted on the fact that after Europe she'd have to live with him!

When I thought about the movies that exemplified our age group ... Gidgit, Tammy, Where The Boys Are, etc ... not to mention the television shows Lillian talked about, we were living in a bubble of naïveté, and when it burst, we had no concept of the fallout and the number of people who would be hurt ... especially the children.

Lillian said that after the divorce, she drifted away from her lover, and began to find out who she was. She had lost herself in her concern for everyone else and forgot that she was an important factor in the quotient. Her years as homemaker had been taken for granted, and she used to quip to her husband," the one thing we have in common is our interest in you." We both laughed.

Lillian was encouraged to go back to school. She did part-time work and managed to go to the San Francisco Academy of Art where her capabilities were appreciated and flourished. She moved into a phase that completely revitalized her life, befriended by poets and writers, sculptors and political activists. This was the heyday of the self-improvement '70s, and she found herself, her passion, and a purpose for living. She moved to Taos with a group of fellow artisans, and lived there ever since, traveling, exploring inner realms, and contributing her talent to the world.

I asked about the children and the aftermath of the breakup as it affected them. "You know, if I had only known earlier what I knew later, I would have packed them up and taken them with me into this life much sooner. One of my reasons for staying in the marriage was because I was concerned I couldn't offer them the economic privileges that they had while he and I were married. It never occurred to me that I could make very much money painting, but I had not counted on the fact that the life we lived offered them a lot of perks, but little substance.

"I think they would have gained so much more character being exposed to the life I lead now. As it was, their father didn't have time for them any more than he had for me. When I finally left him, they were pretty much grown. All that money did nothing to add dimension to their lives. They were poor little rich kids, and I'll regret that for my entire life. Now their children come to be with me, and my eldest daughter has followed a passion for sculpting."

That was quite a story, and as she finished, I wondered how many men and women were in marriages or jobs that stifled their true essence and diminished their being. How many stayed with the status quo because of fear? This was one thing our group had in common. We were not afraid to risk living, because each one of us knew first hand that doing anything else was slow death.

Mark walked into the workshop area and sat down. "Roland had to leave for the day. An emergency came up, and he asked me to take over and share part of my work with you."

I was disappointed that Roland wasn't going to be there, but curious about what Mark would do. There was an easy comfort between Mark and the group. I was aware that by not going to the sulfur springs I had missed a special ingredient in the bonding process to the others.

He led us through the breathing, sound and color exercise, and it was easier to do than the day before. When we were finished, I felt peaceful, waves of light passing through me. As we gently came back to reality, Mark was looking intently at each one of us ... Roland the Second.

"Okay. So I've got to level with you. I have certain abilities that allow me to see into another person's energy patterns, and I can see where the blocks are. I don't have the same gift of finesse as does our host, so sometimes what I say might appear to be blunt, but I've found that I'm guided to give out what each person needs to hear.

"Before we continue, I need to know if any of you has a problem with me bringing something forward about you in the group?"

Nathan smiled. "As far as I'm concerned, go for it!"

Lillian and Fiona indicated that neither one of them minded. I felt a sense of discomfort and contraction in my stomach muscles, but decided I had to go along, so nodded that it was all right with me.

"Okay. I want you to understand the purpose for me bringing these things to the surface. First, they're getting in the way of each of you being all that you can be ... sounds like a commercial ... but it's the truth. And second, we cannot operate as an effective body of energy if there are glitches that keep us from full participation. We have to be energetically present and open for the exercises we're doing this week.

"The major thing that keeps us from being whole is fear. We are afraid of opening areas within ourselves that are uncomfortable or unsafe. We are afraid of the judgment of others. We are afraid that we'll be discounted, abandoned or betrayed, and one of the major stumbling blocks ... we're afraid to be out of control. If we give up control, we might be annihilated, and that's pretty scary. We're afraid to bring our voice forward because we might be misunderstood, misquoted, or ripped off.

"The problem with all of these fears is that they keep us locked up in containers that are too small for us. They keep us from becoming our potential. Self-protection stems from self-consciousness, and our task is to overcome the things that separate us from one another. Any questions so far?"

I was squirming, and spoke up. "But it's important to protect ourselves. If we don't, we're vulnerable to attack. For instance, I cannot look at people in crowds because I'm impacted by their pain. It moves into me and I take it on."

Mark looked at me steadily. "Why? What do you gain from taking on their pain?"

I could feel anger welling up inside. "Come on, Mark. Don't psychoanalyze me. This isn't an encounter group. I don't gain anything from it, it just happens."

"No. I disagree. There's a payoff for you at a psychic level. You need to go into that. You don't have to do that now ... and I'm not judging you. Get that. None of this is about judgment. It's about removing the layers that we've piled on that keep us from our authentic selves. If we can strip away the layers and overcome our defenses, we're going to find that at the bottom of it all is a huge core of love.

"A lot of the things we do are self-protective as a result of our own experiences. But a lot of things we do to protect ourselves stem from the collective unconscious. Hatred between groups, whether religious, racial, ethnic, gender, or any other combination that comes up, is from a collective pool of fear.

"If you put a group of very small children ... I mean before the imprint of their separateness is stamped on them ... maybe age one ... you'd have kids of every color and religious view, conservative and liberal ... you name it ... being curious about one another. They'd want to touch each other. They aren't separated yet by artificial divisions based on perceptions of fear. They still have the spark of remembrance of where they came from, which was the same place ... the same genetic pool, and they and we are all going to return to it when we're done here.

"So, we have to get out of trying to protect ourselves from life. None of us came here to be safe. We came to grow and to unfold everything that's possible for us. We were given a birth assignment, and then we proceeded to forget."

Fiona chimed in. "You know, Mark. In esoteric tradition, there is a story about the Grail and its twin. One is the cup of remembrance and the other of forgetfulness. We come down into earth with the draught of remembrance, and once we arrive, we drink from the other, and forget who we are. Our task is to find that original cup, and reunite. This is partially what the yearning for the Grail is all about. We want to overcome our separation."

"Yup. That's right." Mark paused. He looked at me.

"Are you alright with this now?"

I nodded that I was.

"Okay, then let's go on." He closed his eyes for a moment and then looked at each person individually, much the same as Roland had done.

"What I want to say to each of you is that as I look at your energy bodies, I can see where you're fully connecting and where you are missing elements that would allow you to flow more harmoniously within your energy fields. You might want to call these the chakras, which relate to the magnetic fields of your body, but also I'm looking at the electrical grid points of your body, which are represented by Acupuncture points. The combination of the electric and magnetic fields contribute to the quality of your Aura, which you know as the light that surrounds your body. I know you already know this stuff, but I want you to understand where I'm coming from ... what my frame of reference is."

"What information are you getting when you look at us?" I asked.

"I'm talking non-verbally to your body when I do that. The body will not lie. You can rationalize with your mind, and you can schmooze through emotions, but the body will always tell the truth. In fact, this is an area that is not given nearly the attention it requires. It's real important to involve ourselves in bodywork that bypasses the mental process. You can reach issues through the dynamics of working with the body that you can't get through the psychological process. When I've sent clients to body movement specialists, their therapy process has been cut by at least half. So, your body is telling me what it wants you to know."

He turned first to Nathan and told him that he saw a highly developed intellect with good sexual grounding, but the need to open to heart and spirit more fully.

He then turned to Lillian and told her that her energy level was so dynamic and turned on that she radiated passion for life in all areas. He felt there were vestiges of guilt that held her back, which could be worked on.

For Fiona, he saw beautiful nurturing energy, with good heart, intellect and spiritual compassion. However, he saw a deep wound of sorrow that held her in a space that would not allow her to move fully into her potential. As he described this to her, she cried softly, and then sobbed. Mark and the others gathered to comfort her. I felt empathy, but was unable to move. As her discomfort lessened, each took their places and the focus was turned to me.

My level of self-consciousness had brimmed again to the surface, and I couldn't stand the thought of what I would hear, so I blurted out that I didn't feel well, and needed to leave. I mumbled apologies, but could not get out of the room fast enough.

As I headed for my bungalow, I was enraged. Why did I react this way? The constriction around me was so tight that I could hardly breathe or swallow. All I wanted to do was escape. It was a similar act of defensiveness that I'd experienced with Roland ... I was always ready to protect myself ... but how much of life was I missing through this need to be in control?

Once back in my room, I sat down and practiced breathing, returning to harmony. As I did this, tension eased, and the constriction in my body lessened. What was I afraid of, and why was I sabotaging myself? This behavior reminded me of encounter groups where I'd learned a lot but was uncomfortable with the process. Delving into realms of Spirit seemed far more liberating ... and much less confrontational.

I felt foolish, recognizing I'd allowed fear to overcome possibility. It would be inappropriate to go back in the middle of the session, so instead I decided to take a walk. My mind wandered to other things, wondering what had forced Roland to leave, thinking about my friends, and questioning if I'd make it through the rest of this week without completely short-circuiting the process. As long as things stayed impersonal, I was fine. However, I did not like when the lens of inquiry was focused on me.

Walking up the mountain trail beyond the house, I came to two forks in the road, and took the path that led towards a more wooded area, as it was going to be a hot day. The smell of piñon trees was wonderful. They had gnarled branches and often their shapes looked like frozen images of people or animals. As I reflected on their beauty, I heard rustling in the bushes. Thinking it might be a mountain lion, I turned very slowly, only to see a bearded man with a large potato sack partially filled with branches of the piñon. Coincidence! I made a sound so as to let him know I was there. He turned, and a most intriguing face greeted me with a wonderful smile and merry blue eyes that signaled mischief. I liked him immediately.

"Hello!" I introduced myself and he walked over, setting down his bag, reaching out to shake my hand.

"Earl Nightrider at your service!" He swooped off an imaginary cap and bowed in a low, graceful movement. " ... Transplanted lover of life, corrupter of the arts, and strolling lunatic!"

He made me giggle. I asked him what he meant by his cryptic introduction, and after looking me over to see if I was worth relating it to, he motioned me to sit on the stump of a downed tree, where he proceeded to tell me the story of his life.

As a young boy he had been fascinated with wood and had grown up in a family of cabinetmakers. He spent most of his life keeping two steps ahead of civilization, as he told it. "I could smell 'em coming from a hundred miles down wind. When they got that close, it was time to move on." He had found a good woman and they lived a life on the fringe of society.

He built cabinets for others and took to sculpting, and carving figures from the downed piñon branches that were plentiful in the southwest. In recent years he'd added touches of mythology to his pieces, and they had become unbearably popular ... to the point that it was difficult for him to remain anonymous. He determined that living in Sulfur Springs was an acceptable compromise, and spent his time following the joy of liberating the wood, as he cuttingly referred to his craft, and philosophizing to the trees and anyone else who would listen!

I appreciated his humorous account, for it relieved me of my self imposed seriousness. He turned and watched me as he finished his narrative. "So, little lady ... what about you? What brings you to these woods?" It sounded like the lead in for a fairy tale like Little Red Riding Hood, and I couldn't resist the temptation.

"Well," I squeaked in a high voice, "my grandmother sent me into the forest to look for berries."

He liked that, and roared with laughter. "Good answer! You've got a sense of humor."

I laughed, too. "Sometimes yes, sometimes no. I'm afraid when I get self-conscious I tend to get overly serious."

"Oh, well ... welcome to the human race. We all do. Trick is to catch yourself before you let it go too far. It's like sculpting. You start out with an idea, move into it, and then get self-conscious. Is it going to turn out the way it 'should?' All of a sudden the self-consciousness takes over and there is no sculpting. The fingers and the knife won't move, because the mind has clamped down. It has to look, be, feel THIS way ... MY way."

"So what do you do when that happens?" I asked.

"Nothing. You just have to stop the process and go for a walk. Let it shake itself out. When your head gets tired, it'll let the muse take over again. Then you find your way back in. Only trouble is, you've lost your innocence. Now the piece is someone you know intimately, and intimacy means carving away the illusions. You have to grapple with the issues, and you have to make adjustments and compromises. There are moments of struggle, moments of promise, of disillusionment, and triumph. No doubt, though. No two pieces ever look the same and no piece ever looks the way you thought it would. Whatever your medium, art is one heck of a teacher."

"Well ... I write and I do consultant work. So it isn't quite the same."

"Of course it is! Whatever you are involved with becomes the teacher. The art of living isn't relegated to those of us who work in the field of paints, clay or wood. It is the same thing with anyone or anything you involve yourself in. You have an idea, you get enthusiastic, you jump in, and then you find that it isn't going the way "you" thought it should. You get frustrated, you want to quit ... and here is the juncture ... which fork in the road do you take? You either shake out the cobwebs and march right back in there, or you leave it and it becomes one big dangling participle. It wreaks havoc on your psyche when you don't complete the process, regardless of the outcome. Can you relate to that?"

I looked at him, a grin on my face. "You've just named a major issue in my life. Thank you!"

He got up and helped me to my feet. "Well, Little Red Riding Hood, it was nice meeting you. Stay away from the big bad wolf, and good luck to you!" He collected his sack of wood and went off whistling amidst the trees.

I stood for a few minutes reflecting on the coincidence of meeting him here at this moment in time. "Oh, God" I said, looking up at the sky, " ... you are so awesome!" If only I could stay tuned and remember. It was time for me to go back now ... to face the music.

© Kathleen Jacoby, 2000-2006

To purchase a copy of VISION OF THE GRAIL please click on the cover to the right.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kathleen Jacoby is a professional numerologist with over 25 years of experience. She is also one of PlanetLightworker's earliest contributors and an incredible spiritual teacher. She has been on radio and television, and has lectured and taught extensively. You can obtain your own Yearly Projection either on audiotape or through e-mail by contacting Kathleen.

In addition to numerology, Kathleen is the editor of a quarterly newsletter of ideas and inquiry called Seasons of the Soul, and author of the critically acclaimed spiritual adventure novel, Vision of the Grail. You can e-mail Kathleen with questions or comments at: KathleenEJacoby@aol.com or visit her website: www.grailvision.com .