Hands Of Innocence

After a period of journaling through some difficult issues, I had a vivid dream. It ended with a man wringing and twisting something in his hands. He was doing his best to rip it into pieces. All his focus, energy and strength invested into destroying this whatever-it-was.

I lay quietly in the half-light of the dawn, letting my body awaken and seeing this vision in my mind. The man was me, obviously I wanted to destroy this thing. Then I felt my inner child's presence. Looking more closely at the twisted-up object, I saw it was a document made of some incredibly soft, strong and supple material.

My inner child asked to see it. I held it out and he took from my grasp. Laying it out on the floor, he opened it out as best he could. There was writing on it. The words said this document is my spiritual permission, privilege and right to live a serene, happy and healed life. That precious little boy asked me what the words said. I told him. He looked up at me from eyes both brimming with tears and filled with determination.

My throat lumped so I could hardly breathe. Here I was, twisting my life into painful and unrecognizable shapes. I realized in a moment of clarity that this dream represented my everyday way of life. The document was so badly twisted and wrinkled. It looked mangled beyond any possible repair.

Then a magical thing happened. My inner child reached out and touched a deep wrinkle. The wrinkle immediately disappeared! His eyes grew wide with wonder. And you know, it didn't occur to him, this innocent inner child, to question the magic. Everywhere he touched it, the document became as new.

He simply started tracing, tracing, tracing his hand over it. Every last mark of damage went away. He didn't stop until it did. Thus began the walk along my path with heart. I believe in magic, and the power of innocence in a child's hand. I believe in spirit.

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