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  • Last night I dreamt of the Tarot’s Fool leaping confidently into the Abyss. Compelled to follow I plunged into an unconscious stream of memory from which I may never return.

    As I drifted like a leaf buoyed upon gentle wavelets of wind, Christ’s promise echoed in the vast space between my ears. I will send the Comforter to wipe every tear from your eyes. Accelerated by the Redeemer’s words, my decent ended as I fell upon a rocky outcropping overlooking my heart. What a lonely, deserted place, I said aloud as I sat to contemplate. Though I was lost in thought I couldn’t help noticing that the boulder upon which I sat was slowly moving and growing. Curiously I examined the ground and to my great surprise I found myself sitting not only among but also upon a vast number of tiny hard-shelled creatures, and I instantly knew they were the stifled tears I’d never dared to cry. Solidified and frozen they formed the giant malignant tumor that threatened my earthly existence. I couldn’t take my eyes away from these strange little cells gone awry, and I marveled that without intending to do so I had breathed my own life’s breath into them. Yes, I created them. With the divine spark that animates my body I gave them life and, without me, they would cease to exist. No longer able to ignore these tears I finally began to cry and as I did the shells melted into the salty brine returning the cells to the stream of Life.

    Apprenticeships to masterful healers and ephemeral triumphs over cancer have added to my reputation as a healer—I’ve left a thriving practice to embark upon this journey—but last night’s dream points to the fact that I’ve really just begun to heal my heart. Contemplating the subtle differences between curing and healing, I hope to live long enough to heal my spirit. Unlike past encounters with Death, which were confirmed by medical diagnoses, last night’s leap into the void tells me I must develop a stronger trust in my intuitive abilities to face the next encounter.


    Note: This dream was recorded shortly before I walked across the bridge linking El Paso and Cuidad Juarez. The shaman, Don Eligio Panti, had beckoned me to Belize.

    Next: The Old Man Beckons

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