Softly the sleeper awakened to the presence of a mysterious shadowy partner, moving behind the inner veil quietly, like a kitchen maid skillfully preparing the evening supper.
The sleeper witnessed a kind of inner miracle, and in that miracle discovered the presence of that mysterious maid as she quietly delivered the completed order. This time it was simply the clarity and detail of a dream. This shadowy figure within him was a kind of twin self, who had been actively at work in the kitchen of his life, stirring pots, baking bread, following the menu in careful detail set by the unaware sleeper for years now. She just hadn't been noticed, until now.
Surprised, the sleeper wondered the identity of this silent other, this invisible partner, whom he now realized faithfully followed his every order, in precise detail, even creating beyond the vague request in more specific nuances.
Who brought the hoped-for vision into focus, designing the intricate details down to turning on the cottage light, planting the wild flowers, blue and yellow, by the back shed? Only ideas, inner pictures, the sleeper thought, but ones he also knew he hadn't actually created. They all quickly began to flash in his mind, spun by this other, yet always at his wishful command. Who was this "other"?
Who sketched the perfect babbling creek, flowing over mysterious rock beds beneath its crystal essence? Who added the rambling porch with its grey painted wide steps on which children played on a late spring afternoon? Who put the piano in the living room on the luxurious oriental rug with hues of red and gold?
Who placed, in an adjacent dining room, the old wooden table, handmade by a great-grandfather's weathered hands. A young man at the turn of the 19th century, the German-American carpenter had carefully cut and crafted it from an old oak tree on his homestead now long gone. It wasn't even a dream the sleeper spun in his own mind, yet this twin, this silent inner partner, had painted his wish into a whole inner dream world. Even the old table, well polished now with a crystal glass vase holding vibrant pink and white peonies, winked at him as the golden sunlight caressed its 100-year-old finish.
"Interesting," the sleeper thought, realizing once he'd make a wish, an intention, vaguely wishing he could paint it more clearly, in even more focused detail in his mind, not even fully knowing himself what he wanted, then tiny shreds of a vision began to emerge in his mind along with a sense of hope. In fact, hope was his partner's business card, evidence of her faithful commitment to support his creative vision and even to implement it.
But, it was more than that, much more. It was evidence of a realm within him that he never knew was there which opened a whole new dimension to his life which even led him to doubt the validity of the one which he had thought was all there was. Once opened, now hisperspective on everything was changed, and wonderfully charged with new life and new potential. He knew this new hope would change his life forever. From now one, every day would hold a fresh opportunity to embrace his own creativity and his own life with new vigor and joy.
Who brought the hoped-for vision into focus, designing the intricate details down to turning on the cottage light, planting the wild flowers, blue and yellow, by the back shed? Only ideas, inner pictures, the sleeper thought, but ones he also knew he hadn't actually created. They all quickly began to flash in his mind, spun by this other, yet always at his wishful command. Who was this "other"?
Who sketched the perfect babbling creek, flowing over mysterious rock beds beneath its crystal essence? Who added the rambling porch with its grey painted wide steps on which children played on a late spring afternoon? Who put the piano in the living room on the luxurious oriental rug with hues of red and gold?
Who placed, in an adjacent dining room, the old wooden table, handmade by a great-grandfather's weathered hands. A young man at the turn of the 19th century, the German-American carpenter had carefully cut and crafted it from an old oak tree on his homestead now long gone. It wasn't even a dream the sleeper spun in his own mind, yet this twin, this silent inner partner, had painted his wish into a whole inner dream world. Even the old table, well polished now with a crystal glass vase holding vibrant pink and white peonies, winked at him as the golden sunlight caressed its 100-year-old finish.
"Interesting," the sleeper thought, realizing once he'd make a wish, an intention, vaguely wishing he could paint it more clearly, in even more focused detail in his mind, not even fully knowing himself what he wanted, then tiny shreds of a vision began to emerge in his mind along with a sense of hope. In fact, hope was his partner's business card, evidence of her faithful commitment to support his creative vision and even to implement it.
But, it was more than that, much more. It was evidence of a realm within him that he never knew was there which opened a whole new dimension to his life which even led him to doubt the validity of the one which he had thought was all there was. Once opened, now his
The sleeper had no idea anyone had ever heard him when he prayed, or dreamed or wished aloud before. He thought he was alone all this time. Now he realized, as he began to see that his thoughts begat a reality he either liked or disliked, and seemed to emerge, created by someone else working behind the scenes, that he had never been alone, only unaware of its presence all along.
If he'd been more aware to the shadow's presence, he might have realized sooner that the silent other responded to every thought as an order to cook, magically, in the kitchen of his life, until it was served up in his world. Finally, gratefully, he caught a glimpse, a fleeting awareness of the presence of this other and realized, in fact, she was a very fine chef who had been there all along doing the work of his dreaming, making it real.
If he'd been more aware to the shadow's presence, he might have realized sooner that the silent other responded to every thought as an order to cook, magically, in the kitchen of his life, until it was served up in his world. Finally, gratefully, he caught a glimpse, a fleeting awareness of the presence of this other and realized, in fact, she was a very fine chef who had been there all along doing the work of his dreaming, making it real.
The awakened sleeper now struggled to see this obedient worker, whom he had never met before. At times, she seemed to elude him, slipping wistfully out of sight in the rear view mirror of his life. The newly awakened sleeper only realized the presence of his shadowy twin in the little miracles that showed up everywhere in his life, scattered like leaves in the fall yard. Like crumbs in the kitchen are evidence of a mouse nibbling on the breakfast cereal while the owner of the house slept, her presence was discovered in the gifts she left. Yet, her own shy presence remained illusive, evading the now awakened sleeper.
This shadowy twin seemed also to have an independent will, a motive of her own, which was woven into her mission to serve, to follow orders, to obey almost mechanically the thoughts, wishes and dreams of the outer twin. She mimicked, replicated what she was shown, creating whatever she saw or heard, completely obedient and subservient to her outer twin's every thought. That was intriguing to the newly awakened sleeper. He was excited and yet awed at the power at work behind the helm all this time. How would he use this new awareness? What would he create?
Therein is the million dollar moral question. Whom does He/She serve? Since He is not alone, neither is anyone else. He could create heaven or he could create hell. Now he would do it with awareness rather than in his former blind despair. He could build a rich world, brimming in love and generosity. He could go into the inner cities and work to restore homes, neighborhoods. He could work within the local governments for a more compassionate community. He could help the poor, comfort the afflicted, even afflict the comfortable. He could do anything, create anything. He also knew that the violence he saw on the television, was being mimicked by his and everyone else's twin silent partner. He had to tell them, teach them. He realized they were all asleep, unaware of the power of their inner twin.
Photo by Lyubomir Bukov, photoshopped and posted on http://www.foundshit.com/
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