The Vision

On October 19th I mentioned having a vision:

It came to me one night a year or so ago. I was trying to fall asleep, but was distracted by a free-floating mood of dread and heaviness. It's a familiar energy that has shadowed me for much of my life. Instead of trying to analyze why it had descended yet again, I tried a new technique much like the "pain creature" exercise described in the October 19th post mentioned above. The technique entails friendly, feeling-oriented inquiry, as opposed to the rather hostile "what are you doing here?" approach.

Let me preface by saying that I don't truly know what a vision is "supposed" to be like, any more than I know what any extraordinary or transpersonal event should feel like. I do know that it feels different and important enough to grab my attention and elicit awe and respect for the mysteries of spirit and psyche. It's evidence that there is a coherence and meaning alive within all of us – within the world - that is intelligent beyond our comprehension. To me, that's awfully exciting and comforting.

The vision was a triptych, a three part series of mental images that arose spontaneously and flowed seamlessly from one to the next:

I am inside an unglazed terra cotta pot shaped like a slightly squashed ball. Its texture was ribbed like this one inside and out, but the shape was more like the one below. The opening in the top is smaller than the circumference of the vessel. Raised edges made by a clay scraping tool (a texture you often see on the outside) line the interior walls. I run my hands over their rawness. The pot is very clean and yet feels old and unused, like a cave that rarely sees life or the light of day. It feels like I have been in there for a long time.

The pot sits on the lap of an old Latin or Native American woman who is clearly an elder and keeper of wisdom. A quiet, calm confidence emanates from her. She has time, she has patience, and she has knowledge. I am still inside the pot she holds on her lap.

I am at a potter's wheel, working with wet clay to form my own pot. It is taller and has a much wider opening than the one I'd been inside, more like a vase than a pot. The vision ends with a sense of promise and purpose, a message that there are natural forces at work (or play) which require a timeline and perspective very different than mine.

(I should mention that though I'm an artist, the pot making process is foreign to me. But these vessels seem to have symbolism in the collective unconscious as profound as the universe.)

When the images stopped, I felt as if I had been given a gift. I recall the experience often, and it helps me to understand that time and meaning as humans know it is irrelevant.