Thursday, October 9, 2008


You asked about the yellow room. Well, I've been back since then. Couldn't stay away. The air in there is an evolving mystery unfolding before.....not just my eyes, but my spirit. I MUST be there. I must BE there. So many questions I never dreamed of. But I'll tell you how this all began.

I was engaged in a guided imagery and dropped off in front of a long hallway with doors on either side. Well into my imagination and free from inner controls I walked up to a plain, off-white door. The paint color was flat and smoothe, not a nick. The door surface was plain with no embellishment, except for a multifaceted clear-glass door knob. I liked the simplicity of the whole door. It had a classy (glassy?) touch. The knob warmed as I turned it and gave a push.

A comfortable space, I guessed 20x20, with canary yellow walls and ceiling. The only objects in the room were four red Louis XIV chairs, wide and well-padded. They were, it appeared, carefully placed, one in each corner so that the back of the chairs formed the base of a triangle with the plane of the yellow walls. The chairs were all facing the same point in the room....the center. At a glance the room presented itself as ordered and serene, and yet I sensed a vibrant undercurrent. It felt pregnant with, with something......a label escaped me.

I walked to the chair in the NW corner and sat down. As I did this the chair turned yellow as the walls, and the scent of patcholi floated past my nose. Yummy. Love magic. Love patchouli. I sat all the way back in the seat and my arms rested naturally at my side. I felt supported and strangely 'pointed in the right direction'.

Looking straight ahead I noted the other chairs. The line of our gazes met in the center, like an important X. I focused on this spot and a shimmer began to reveal itself. It grew upward into a cylinder of light. I blinked. It disappeared. I focused intently and it grew once more, this time almost touching the ceiling. There seemed to be movement and colors within the cylinder. And then I saw planets, oceans, green farmlands, castles, cavemen, space stations,......Louis XIV !? I tighten my focus and scenes flitted by with great speed until I concentrated on a specific area....a tiny spot of happening. The action slowed and I found myself witness to scenes, interactions, snipits of human activity, some from my past (!), others unknown to me. With jaw dropped and careful not to drool on the fancy chair, I witnessed moments from my childhood: Mom peeling potatoes at the sink, Dad and I driving Aunt Tilly home from work and picking up freshly baked bagels along the way, little me riding my bike on the gravel driveway. I panicked and the activity sped up, becoming a blur. I relaxed and it slowed down.

So this is how this room works. I seem to be pointed in the direction of the past. What if I sat in the other chairs? If I want to intently observe, all is visible. With dramatic awakening, this room's treasure becomes crystal clear, as clear as it's door knob. It's a hologram of life!

I felt my body rest heavy into the chair. I was trying too hard to know more. "No need to try. Just be. Come back whenever," the pillar of light sang out in mutiple pitches. I left, perfectly content.

And that, my friend, was my first visit to the Yellow Room behind the off-white door. I returned earlier today, excited to turn that crystal door knob. I chose a different chair, wanting a fresh perspective on this room. Or is it on Life? In any event I went through the door and sat myself down in SW chair. I relaxed, thought of nothing and looked to the center of the room. There was a rush of air. The hologram was speedily forming. As it rose and filled out, new thoughts came out of my mind, effortlessly. They took the form of questions. "Ask away," sang Big H. I call it that because it was filling the room, it's circumferance almost touching my knees. I thought Big H looked pregnant with possibilities. "That's right". Oooooo. The wonder of the unknown.

I asked without regard to answers. What if I stood in the center of the room? Would I be engulfed by the hologram?! What would become of me? How would that feel? Would I survive? What if I did a headstand in the center of creation? Would I see things in a different way I never imagined before.


What if a friend joined me in this room and sat in another chair? Could we communicate? Could we co-create? What would happen to us? What if I twirled in the center of the hologram, in the center of creation? Would I survive? I want to know: Would I die?
"A part of you dies when a new part is born. It's the glory of Creation. It's a path of Evolution. It's the joy of Living. You are in the chair of dreams never dreamed....a perspective of possibility and grace."

This is one heavy room. My thoughts blanked out as I experienced a current enter my body and rest in my solar plexus. I savored the moment. I'll be back, I gurgled in my best Schwarzzenegger voice. Whirls of laughter filled the space called the yellow room.
Agelessness and Art Books

I love art know, those big picture books in art museum bookestores full of narratives, vignettes and philosophies of great artists with pictures of their thoughts realized as paintings, photographs, drawings. A favorite is Claude Bonnard for his in-depth look at color and his expertise at creating a vibrant wonder on canvas. I lingered at my personal bookshelf, tight with many favorites, and pulled out Bonnard at Le Cannet . I leafed through, reading and absorbing, when this quote repeated itself in my mind:
"His thirst for nature was insatiable, his work in capturing life tireless."

'Capturing life'. Hmmm. Another buzz-word to add to my growing understanding of agelessness. This great painter was empassioned with his way of living fully, and it involved giving color to life as he saw it. He loved this space called life and dared to reach for his potential in expressing himself, reaching it time and time again.

Now there's something scarey about potential realized. What comes next?? When that too-good-to-be-true dream is realized then what lays beyond? Is there a beyond? Is it time to then die?! At least that's what's gone through my mind. The fear of living a fully realized life can paralyze efforts in reaching it. So what's so frightening about reaching a dream, a potential?
I've begun considering that perhaps only levels of potential are reached. Perhaps there are many more levels of passion-expressed to grow with, to choose from.....only, that menu is not as yet available...I must first open the book to get to live the table of contents.

There. That makes me feel better. I won't perish if I reach what I think is my potential. How do I know what that is anyway? Just do my passion. Listen to what makes my heart flutter. Feel what makes my solar plexus ache with a sweet joy. Capture life in my way. I'll know I'm alive.

Ah, yes, this art book is the perfect gift for a budding artist on her 'sweet sixteen' birthday. I wrapped it in layered yellow and hot pink tissue paper and tied a large, flowing red and black bow in one corner. She'll love it.
And so she did.

(written 21December2006)