Arthur Rackham

The Goddess showed up today in an Empress gown, as did the ecstatic Fool, and the Devil with his beguiling face. The Motley crew of truth rode in on their magnificent horses; Fearless, Freedom and Fun. The trio showed up in full form, squeezing themselves into our tiny nomadic living room through a doorway half their size.

Power of Horse and Archetype permeated the narrow living space so completely that there was no breath to breathe, but their own. They stood heaving their barrel chests, lungs pushing ribs in a rasping pant. Sweaty withers twitched, frothy from their swift charge across rolling green hills and shadowy deep valleys of my still mysterious unconscious. I was there, but unaware. I remained bent over the photos on an ipad, lost in my own soliloquy. I didn’t note their grand entrance or the ringing in my ear.

I was there, but unaware.

Scraping hooves laid deep grooves in the thin linoleum. Nostrils the size of my fist, billowed steamy breath rising to the ceiling. Their collective prana gathered into swirling black thunderheads that roared their own mission through the small, unheated space. Fueled by infinite possibility, the clouds towered upward, ricocheting off the low ceiling, condensing against the cold windows. Mist from the breath of hallucinations purified the atmosphere of worry with sacred rain.

I was there but unaware.  

While our heroes stomped impatient frustration, I remained hunkered down on the small polyester clad dinette. My shoulders bent by the weight of “What if, is it possible, and maybe we shouldn’t”. Trying to create the future without dreaming it first is a wrench. I was there but unaware.

Le Char d’Apollon (Chariot of Apollo), ca. 1910

Fearless, being the closest, leaned forward with the Devil of Humanness on his back. He stretched his bony finger at a spot between my eyebrows. Water ran down his hand, dripping on my computer.

“Move on!” He bellowed. The words rang with crystal clarity, banging a direct hit on the closed door of my solar plexus. The phrase from Sondheim’s song, finally heard and understood. “The choice may be mistaken, the choosing is not!”

“Move On!!” they roared.

“The door is open, the dirt is dark, so go already!”

I remembered the mission, finally linking action with intention. The blessed Aha! Moment. Is it Illumination or illusion? Some might question my counsel. I would not. They have led me too many times in and out of dark pathless places to doubt their motives. An Archetype’s only agenda is truth.

I am here and I am listening.