The greatest secret of all, is how deeply you’re loved. You have no idea. Always, no matter what.
An “older woman with white hair and blue eyes, that I sense is a wise and loving elder, comes forward. She introduces herself as Ariadne, one of my guides… ” My notebook entries about our first meeting in 2013 at the Monroe Institute describe her initially in the company of “an angel posse.”
This first encounter occurred during my introductory week at the institute in Virginia where the Gateway program has introduced tens of thousands to hemi-sync technology and access to other realms and souls. I showed up there, raw and ragged, an unlikely candidate for inspiring encounters. I was still grieving the loss, eighteen months before, of my life partner, Peter. I was dealing with the imminent loss of a dear friend, journeying with Sue, too, toward the end of her earthly life. And en route to the Institute, I got a call that my mother had just received a diagnosis of an untreatable form of cancer. I felt very alone.
But as I lay in the pitch dark in my CHEC unit—earphones on and attuned to the binaural frequencies (sounds at 100 and 104 Hertz)—I “traveled” to one of the focus or frequency levels where a group of loving beings welcomed me with joy. It’s where and when elder and guide, Ariadne, introduced herself. And for the rest of the week, she reappeared at various focus levels now and then to witness my adventures in these other realms.
On the first night at TMI, when I happened upon a large spider sashaying across the bathroom floor, I wondered if I hadn’t misheard her name. I had no familiarity with the name Ariadne. Could the name be “Arachnid” instead? I was too dumbstruck and too absorbed in encounters with loved ones on the Other Side, not to mention a playful group of guides whom I later dubbed Team Tunie, to ask her to clarify. It was a week of rich and remarkable experiences during which I came to realize that these loving support teams exist for each of us, whether we’re aware of such cheerleaders or not. This elegant elder, whatever her name, was, is, one of mine.
Ariadne was not about to let me forget her once I departed. A Restoration Hardware catalog was on my doorstep when I arrived home. It was the controversial one, weighing twelve pounds—one million copies mailed and an estimated 100,000 trees cut down to produce them all. What a waste, I thought, flipping through the pages. I paused at the sight of a spread with a line of small busts on a mantel in the background and one of a Greek goddess in the foreground. It was the text that caught my eye: AN EXQUISITE 5TH CENTURY BC BUST OF ARIADNE. I mean, what were the chances?
I did some research, discovering, for instance, that Ariadne’s thread” refers to a useful algorithm for problem-solving. Known as Mistress of the Labyrinth, she is famous for saving Theseus from the Minotaur by cleverly giving him a thread to find his way out of the maze. Led by author and Yale scholar, Carol Christ, via a program of the Ariadne Institute for the Study of Myth and Ritual, groups make two-week pilgrimages twice a year to the Greek isle of Crete to find out more about her and to honor the sacred feminine. Some high-speed scribbling in my journal offered additional insight: You are correct in understanding that the goddess and your guide represent qualities of spirit and the way you are likewise to serve.
I also found an association with one kind of spider, Ariadna, named after this goddess. In a blog post, a writer wrote of her visit to a friend’s grave where an Ariadna had spun a tube-like web in an aperture between the headstone and pieces of slate left along the top edge—like a portal to the Other Side. All these associations—the web-weaver and word-weaver imagery, the portal, the honoring of the feminine, the attraction to labyrinths—were oddly in tune with my interests and essence.
Would she be waiting for me two years later, during a second stay at the institute, I wondered? Sure enough, she was there. Again, there were so many rich experiences during my time at TMI, so many people in the program imprinted on my heart, that Ariadne seemed to get lost in the shuffle. Six months later when she came to mind I was waiting for a ride to the airport to fly to a family reunion. Googling her name, up came a smallish picture lifted from the catalog photo I’d seen two years earlier. There were words too tiny for me to decipher, except for the price of the bust, reduced by $50. I hurriedly ordered it. It would be a sweet addition to one of my bookshelves. Days later, when I came back from the reunion, I found a four-foot-high container—the only identifying info being its warehouse address—between me and my front door. A friend who came by helped me undo the protective packaging, the two of us tugging and pulling out an enormous two-and-a-half foot high head.
I was still laughing when friend Andy snapped a picture of me holding her in my lap. I posted the picture on Facebook, explaining that I’d ordered a bust for a bookshelf, receiving this gigantic sculpture instead. One friend after another delighted in suggesting what to do with her: How about having her ride in the passenger seat in the sane lane? Bury her up to her neck on a beach. Glue a spoon to her nose (to honor a family tradition of ours). And those who stuck around for additional comments, confessed, “My stomach hurts from laughing…” and “This made my night!” It turned out to be the best party I’ve ever hosted. There was literally a laugh a minute. I felt pretty confident that Ariadne was enjoying it, too. A couple of astute friends, however, ventured to say she looked as if she meant business. Did I know that she was mistress of the labyrinth and super savvy? That she clearly was telling me I needed a big dose of Goddess energy? They wisely guessed that there was more to the story.
Still looking as if she belongs in a capitol rotunda, she remains today on the single extra-deep sill in the house. It happens to be in my little writing room. Three carved Inuit figures nearby look up at her in befuddlement. Yes, it’s true that I asked everyone, “What am I going to do with her?” But I understood at a deeper level that this was really about what she was going to do with me. She’s a daily reminder of the divine support that each of us has. An embodiment of my higher self, a wiser, trusting self— very different from my ego, or as Eckhart Tolle calls it, “the pain body.” She’s practically at my shoulder as I sit at my desk most days, giving her blessing to my writing and to my comings and goings.
Ariadne’s presence in my life perfectly illustrates and incorporates the elements noted in my past four posts. She is only able to exist for me beyond the confining box of what mainstream culture considers valid and real. And only if I am willing to affirm that magic happens. As my scribblings, via my writing guides, confirm: Connections with beloveds opened you to the possibility of other forms of consciousness, beings of loving intelligence, guides available to all. You resisted—conditioned to dismiss the unseen. But you came around. The presences [like Ariadne] came through in loving and light-filled ways, until you could no longer discount their existence or their support.
Her impossible-to-ignore presence is, finally, both a wink and a nudge. This guide I first met while I was at the Monroe Institute materialized on my doorstep twice, as an image, then in physical form. And her second appearance inspired not only a delighted, fleeting “Ha!,” but ongoing hilarity, hours of ha-ha-has! What’s more, she provided a nudge as well. Validation, thanks to her perfect timing, that I’d recently encountered her as spirit. Her persistence as a presence sent a message, too, that this divine guidance is not to be dismissed, but celebrated as I embrace the limitless possibilities in this life… and the next.
How about you? Can you feel the love?
Quotation, compliments of Mike Dooley’s Notes from the Universe at tut.com