This is not a class, friends, so feel free to skip this. I’m just working on what Teacher called very important homework.
I’ve always hated homework.
Teacher says the work we do on our own will get us farther than anything we can do in class. I beg to differ. How could anything I do on my own be as glorious as that day he took me to the place where the golden light enveloped me?
He says it’s time. We’ve been studying for so long, but many of us are too scared. I don’t think I am. Then again, I haven’t been faced with anything I can’t handle. Not for a very long time.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about this old poem. It’s been my favorite since I learned it in high school.
“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,/And sorry I could not travel both/And be one traveler, long I stood/And looked down one as far as I could/To where it bent in the undergrowth…”
Robert Frost talked about walking in the forest and choosing between two roads. One was worn and well-traveled, the other was grassy and hadn’t been used very much. I always identified with the traveler. I’ve always tried to take the road less traveled by, the grassy one that holds surprises not many have discovered yet.
Why does Teacher make me think of that poem?
I honestly have no clue. Except, maybe, that leaving my old life behind to follow him to this university is kind of like the less traveled path. I don’t know how I’ll feel or if I’ll ever wish I’d taken the other road.
I strongly believe, though, that this was the right thing.
Maybe it’s the true happiness I’ve been able to find more often since I met Teacher. Maybe it’s the hope I have now that everything is working out just the way it’s supposed to. Maybe it’s that I feel like I’ve been waiting for this since I strolled with the butterflies through the Key Lime grove in my childhood backyard.
Maybe it’s that I feel he saved me from the drab grayness of a life with no purple and blue.
In today’s meditation, I run through a field then I drop onto the soft, brilliant green grass and stare at the warm, golden sun overhead. I know, the way you know when something’s perfect, that what I’m doing now is right.
Then Teacher blocks the sun.
“Having fun?” he says, his fluffy, hatless head throws a shadow over me.
The joy I’ve been feeling today can’t be fazed. “Yeah, actually. I’m having a beautiful day.”
“Good, good.” He plops down next to me, allowing me to bask in the sun again.
Then a question I’ve never had before pops into my head.
“Why are you a purple and blue dragonfly, sir?”
“Those are the highest colors. Well, the highest masculine colors. I wanted you to have a goal to work toward, I mean, really, some dragonflies are red. Isn’t red like the root chakra? That’s such a blah color.”
I give him a crooked eye, “Is this really your answer? Red is blah?”
He shrugs, looking at me for a very long time before answering, his voice soft with concern, “Dear Writer, I am here because of you.” He holds my hands gently in his. “You needed me to be purple. You were in a dark place. You needed an escape. Purple is the color of escaping into a world of inspiration and creativity. It is the color of harmony and balance.”
“So you’re what you are because of me?”
He nods slowly. “You’d been searching for harmony in your soul for years. I came as the answer to your unspoken questions.”
I don’t know what to say, but then I realize how right he is. I’ve been searching for harmony so urgently that I’d even gotten tattoos of that very idea of harmony.
“Have I found it yet, Teacher?”
“What do you think?”
“I think I have, but it’s not a battle that can be won and then it’s over. Everything that happens in my life threatens to throw me off kilter.” I sit up to face him. “I’m working on it, you know. Always working on it.”
“I know.” Then the teacher who is a man is replaced by my blue and purple dragonfly. “And until you don’t need me, I will continue to be here for you.”
Until next class, dear classmates, because I know there will be other classes as I continue to walk this path least traveled by in my search for harmony.
The Dragonfly’s Student