Teepee Mandala

I was in a large marble-clad room with a vaulted ceiling. The shape seemed circular. In any case there was a circle of people sitting in it. These were the members of my “dream” group – we had gathered to share with one another the process of our waking dream together.

So I began to tell them a vision I had seen. It was of a large circular mandela viewed not from directly above but rather from the edge, and thus appearing oval. Along the circle’s periphery were twelve stations that were highly energized and in states of transformation.

These stations I understood to represent the various elemental aspects of an individual’s life, which needed to be tuned and set to an optimum state. That optimum state was called the Radix Integra, and depicted by √1, the square root of one.

At the center of this mandala was an Indian teepee. Inside sat a dark-haired young woman holding a child. Both were dressed in buckskin. Outside the teepee a cross-legged Indian warrior was on guard.

Somewhere in the middle of relating this vision, it occurred to me that the dream group itself could be considered such a mandala, and that each person in it compared to those peripheral stations needing to be tuned to harmonize the whole.  Even in realizing this dynamic it began to be illustrated.

Suddenly a rock wall arose between me and the others, and words no longer flowed between us. A state of isolation had been imposed on my station, or someone suggested, cauldron.

My spot in the large room became a separated alcove and I found myself sitting on a bench. Next to me was a young woman (the anima), who accused me of falling asleep while she was speaking to me.

I protested that I would not have done such a thing, but she insisted it was so. In fact, I knew nothing of what she might have said and therefore had to wonder if she was right and I had truly been as rude and insensitive as she was claiming.

Suddenly another woman also appeared, younger than the first (the anima often appears in multiples). This person said nothing to me, but spoke directly to Annie with speech that seemed garbled and unintelligible. Annie responded to her, also in words I couldn’t follow. Yet it was obvious that the two of them were conveying important information to one another.

In spite of my fervent attempt to understand, the conversation was completely beyond me. I heard the words but could not grasp their meaning. I even asked Annie to repeat what she had said, but to no avail.

When they had finished their perplexing dialogue Annie smiled at me and said, “This is the new way.”

What did that mean?

I felt these women, representing the human soul, were creating something extraordinay, perhaps a life experience yet to manifest outwardly. I ought to have been aware of it, and was invited to be, but was unfortunately incapable of such subtle perceptions.  The rational awareness was too dense, too “conscious” in the worst sense of the word, to hear their language and thus be optimally “tuned” by that fore-knowledge to live more truly.

Yet Annie's "new way" suggests that such intimate communications with the psyche are what the future holds for people dedicated to wholeness.  And the collaborative effort by which healing process are accentuated is clearly indicated as effective, while the message of hope is unmistakable.

I believe the teepee at the center containing the Indian mother and child signifies the Self, which is both the initial impetus and ultimate destination of all transformative movement. The guarding warrior could be likened to that shadow dragon common to oriental traditions, the fearsome creature that must be overcome to enter the presence of the Divine. In our American milieu, such an indigenous representation is fitting.

For those who believe themselves to be mentally compentent, it is daunting to realize how small our self-created world of rational intelligence is.  Yet the wisdom we wish would guide us is near, even within.

We must learn to listen.