Be Still my Heart

Reading the Life and Teachings of the Masters of the Far East transported me with a mystical logic so familiar and refreshing I knew the miracles spoken of must be true. Night melted into day as I read. I imagined sand gritted in my mouth as one after another, the written words leapt as if alive, off the pages and into my heart. My whole body responded. I could have been in India. Spontaneously, I prayed. Just what is real? If only I had such teachers, some master with whom to apply these ideas. If they could live so easily with miracles and even safely pass through a burning forest unharmed, I would know this safety also. I believe it is possible. I do believe it is true! It was Nineteen eighty nine. I was comfortable knowing my mind and living on my own. My quest to discover and understand the Spirit in and around me continued. No part of my journey had been boring, but I never could have guessed just how exciting it would become. The following weekend, my friend, Fran, and I traveled to Breitenbush Retreat Center in Oregon, for a Shared Heart Retreat. My mind overflowed with excitement for the possible music we would experience. We both yearned to escape life"s roller coaster and awaken to our own destiny of service. Our drive through immense forests, friendly log camp structures and rushing mountain rivers lifted us into another realm. Surely past prayers still lingered there, in the sacred air over the mountain. We arrived at the lovely old camp and went straight to work with other campers also setting up their sites. Twigs crunched underfoot as we worked. Happily, I ignored the bizarreness of our camping feat in favor of romanticizing the adventure. Soon enough the work was done. We pitched and staked our lofty tent and settled our spirits into nature. A feeling of wonder, peace and reflection exposed itself easily there. Inside the tent my inner child, now an Indian princess, delighted in the arrangement of my treasures around my sleeping bag bed. Special rocks and my drum and rattle, pregnant with symbolic meaning, waited by the zipper door, all sentinels of joys to come. What people would we meet? What new songs would we learn? Humming with expectancy, we transformed our tent amid the clumps of bushes and towering fir trees, into a cozy home. The next day, the retreat musicians, Charlie Thweat and John Astin, wove our hearts as one while we danced and sang our prayers. I loved every minute until someone stood up and introduced Tolly Burkan, the man who brought FIRE WALKING to America. Chills of fear rushed through me. What was this man doing here? What if he offered a fire walk to us? God, I hoped he would be quiet. Then it happened, he spoke. "Well, yes, I suppose we could hold a fire walk here if you like." His words blurred as the weight of my bones sank into the wooden floor! In absolute panic I knew this was not a dream, but my prayer answered, even though the choice to walk or not, I knew, was mine alone. He continued, telling us how listening to our inner guidance was the important thing. He told of people who walked against their knowing and were burned. I wondered if I would be able to know, through all the fear gripping inside my stomach. Would I? Should I? I decided to wait and see how I felt on the night of the fire walk. After all, I was perfectly free. No one I'd met there so far, seemed like the kind of person who would judge me, or even care if I chose not to walk, and no one would ever know of my prayer. Outside, among the tall fir trees, the day dimmed into evening, but inside, the circle of listeners leaned forward, elbows on knees, studying his every word. He described a lemon to us and talked of its qualities until we puckered. He guided us to understand, that our minds establish reality for us according to our thoughts. He slapped his hands together loudly! We were to do the same. "This is what you may feel as your feet touch the coals." He told us. We could tell our minds what to accept as true. I do not remember the remainder of his words, for I turned inward, talking to my Spirit. "This feels true, but when had it been my experience?" I allowed my memory to scan. "When has knowing something with absolute trust created safety for me?" Instantly, examples from my life scrolled past. I remembered the dog that stopped his charge on me, once in a field, as I knew Love, and proclaimed, there is no evil in this animal! I recalled the time before a concert at church when my badly burned and blistered finger healed completely minutes before arriving at Church. I had prayed for God to take care of it. I smiled as I remembered parking places that appeared out of nowhere, synchronous occurrences, jobs, and precious opportunities to share what I had just learned. Memory even flashed of times when I had expanded myself, quite tall, up and out of time and space, even though moments later I fell back at screaming speed into my small body consciousness." Yes, the man's words were very true. But did I want to act on them? And who would be the one acting? The Mind is powerful and untapped, but what would anything mean if this venture failed? Would it destroy my faith? What was real? What if it worked? Would it not demand applying new truth back home in my chaotic world? Did I even wish to navigate such confusion?