Princess Sassy Pants & Co.™

The mountain air filled my lungs with each breath as I walked the upward, sloping path dotted with wildflowers. Directed in the quiet of meditation, I watched the scene unfold as I approached the plateau where I was to meet myself.

Tears had burned my face for months; there was a ceaseless sense of emptiness, loneliness, and a profound sense of despair. I had experienced many challenges, but nothing as all-encompassing as this darkness that pervaded my being; I had never felt so utterly disillusioned and lost. It seemed that everywhere I turned and everywhere that I once found even the slightest sense of solace in the past, I found a door slamming against my battered being instead.

“Why don’t you try looking within?” A friend suggested kindly, probably exhausted by my incessant moans. At first, I didn’t think this would offer any real solution, but I knew one thing was sure, I had tried everything I knew throughout my life thus far, and the many efforts had led me to where I was…to this emptiness. At least going inward was something that I had not yet attempted. “What do I have to lose?” I reasoned inwardly.

So based purely on my complete inability to conjure another alternative, I began my first attempt at an inward gaze. I did not have one idea of what I was looking for or what I might find. Neither did I know how to do it. Nevertheless, I began.

I closed my eyes and began to breathe deeply. I thought I would imagine meeting myself at a much older age. It seemed that this “older me” might have some answers, having already lived my life. I wanted to know what I should do. I wanted to know what direction to walk in…where to look …where to go. I wanted something. I wanted to feel better and had many ideas of what that meant. I just plain wanted. In desperation, I was willing to try anything and, based on my dismal failure, was fairly certain I did not know the way. I was completely unaware that this was the perfect invitation for God to enter.

I didn’t have fond feelings for the God that others seemed to speak of, and I thought of religion as primarily a fear-based system used to control the masses. I gravitated toward a more scientific approach and thought most spiritual pursuits and religious teachings were closer to mythology than anything of real meaning. Christianity and biblical ideas, in particular, seemed the strangest to me; it made little sense that there was some God out there somewhere that would somehow bestow good on those who prayed in just the right way or who would punish those that either did not understand or who were never exposed to the ideas in a particular book. I saw all of it as a turn-and-click-your-heels-three-times type of magic that if you failed in doing just right…sorry, no soup for you! If there was some magic formula, I was sure I didn’t know it.

Letting my eyes close, I imagined walking down a garden path that met a gently sloping mountainside. As I ascended, I noticed the beauty of the flowers and the green grasses and walked effortlessly to the plateau where I would meet this older version of myself. She sat contentedly weaving a basket, her long gray braids falling well past her shoulders. I recognized her as myself but with a peace and assurance about her that I did not identify with. I moved to her, sat down on the soft grass next to her small wooden chair, and placed my head in her lap. She didn’t speak but stroked my hair lovingly. I was filled with a sense of comfort and care.

We sat quietly for a few moments before she unhurriedly took my hand, arose, and led me to the edge of the mountain’s plateau. As we stood at the precipice, I began to recognize in astonishment that I was no longer directing this experience. Her presence was filled with a sense of patience and peace that was palpable. This was very unfamiliar to me in the frenzied and anxiety-ridden life I had led thus far. With an indescribable calm, she asked me to look over the mountainside and tell her what I saw.

“I see birds and grass, flowers and trees,” I replied obediently.

There was a short yet utterly patient pause before she continued. “Now tell me what you see.”

I could feel the impatience so familiar to me rise up within as I answered her curtly, “The same thing—I see birds and grass, flowers and trees.” I needed answers, and now! I was drowning and was incensed that instead of solid solutions, I had to repeat what I saw over the wretched mountainside.

She spoke slowly, firmly yet gently, unaffected by my tone, “No child,” she said. “There have been beginnings and endings, births and deaths, growth and decay—changes, many changes.” She paused for a moment and then continued, “But beyond them all, there is always Beauty, infinite Beauty. What you see is yourself.”

I could feel the magnitude of her words, however much I did not understand their meaning. It was as if they were deeply communicating from within me—not something being spoken from without—and nudging something inside me that was in a deep slumber. I did not know that, in the simplest of terms, she was teaching me a secret I had kept from myself and the answer to every question I had ever had or ever could have. I did know that, without a doubt, I had not conjured the experience from my imagination and that something very profound had happened. I felt peaceful and knew that I was not alone.

I had many experiences with what I came to call the Wise One. Every time I met her, she would teach me similar ideas in different ways. She became a regular part of my life, and I greatly valued my time with her. I knew I would find comfort with her even while the world’s winds whipped around me.

On one occasion, I found myself in a hallway with many doors. I noticed they were all closed except one that stood slightly ajar. As I walked through it, I found her waiting for me on a platform overlooking space, and I took my place beside her. She asked me again to tell her what I saw. I played along, thinking I knew where this was leading. “I see stars, planets, and darkness,” I replied.

Again, she paused patiently and calmly and then asked me to inhale deeply. I did as she instructed, and as I took a deep breath inward, the whole of the universe that moments before had appeared outside of me was now within me. I looked at her with wide-eyed amazement.

“Now,” she said with great intent, “know that nothing has changed.”

My experiences with the Wise One were my first glimpses into the mystical world that, unbeknownst to me, would become more natural than breathing. I had not yet encountered the life-altering spiritual experiences that were to come. I also did not know at the time that what she taught me was the basis for everything and what would later become the focus of my entire life. I did not know that my experiences with her marked only the beginning of a life’s journey that would take me to countless, inexplicable places in a realm unknown to ordinary human awareness and that would present realizations that would challenge everything I believed…that the world believed. I did not yet know of the profound sense of peace, joy, and fulfillment that awaited me. Nor was I aware of the deep challenges I would pass through to reach them.

She taught that what we see as outside of ourselves is within, or perhaps more accurately, there is no “outside” or “inside” but only Oneness. She showed me repeatedly that I must look beyond what appears as changing form, for it is not here that we find our Self—that beyond all changes, there is an immutable Presence, a Beauty and Truth, and if we look for it, we will find it. We must look for it, for finding it is the only purpose and where all meaning lies. It is here and here alone that we find our Self. There is nowhere else to look and hope to find it, and all our searching is for naught if we search anywhere else but where it is to be found.

My life, which had been filled with such pain, sorrow, loss, and loneliness, was because I, like so many, had been looking for it, looking for fulfillment, meaning, peace, joy, and love, where it does not exist and therefore can never be found. The deep and repeated sense of disappointment and pain I had experienced was not a personal failure or due to some flaw in my makeup, but rather was simply the result of looking in the wrong place.

The mistake was not in the desire to know happiness, love, joy, or a sense of purpose and meaning; the error was in where I believed it could be found. The mistake was in the belief that it was not already mine…forever one and thus inseparable from my very being…inseparable from every being. xo