the tortuous labyrinthine depths and expanses of our
own minds. The heat tempers, rearranging the very
atoms of our psychic being and, most likely, of our
bodies as well.
The beauty of meditative work is that it is possible to
rely on the practice itself to guide us through the
maze. It keeps us on the path, even in the darkest of
moments, facing the most terrifying of our own mind
states and external circumstances. It reminds us of
our options. It is a guide to human development, a
roadmap to our radiant selves, not to the gold of a
childhood innocence already past, but to that of a
fully developed adult. But, for meditation to do its
work, we have to be willing to do ours. We must be
willing to encounter darkness and despair when they
come up and face them, over and over again if need
be, without running away or numbing ourselves in the
thousands of ways we conjure up to avoid the
unavoidable.
TRY: Being open to the prince and the princess, the
king and the queen, the giant and the witch, the wild
man and the wild woman, the dwarf and the crone,
and the warrior, the healer, and the trickster within
yourself. When you meditate, put the welcome mat
out to all of them. Try sitting like a king or queen, or a