This is my visual journal for "Dimensions of Imaginal Knowing in Education, Psychology, and for Personal Transformation" at CIIS, Fall 2020
The gate is open, with a white fence expanding on either side. On the other side of the fence, a dirt path in each direction. An old tree sits alone, then a steep slope do a river below, hidden from view but I can hear the water. A forest lies on the other side of the river, thick and dense. Two black birds in the sky.
Active Imagination: I say a prayer before walking through the gate. Within this imaginal space lies another, imbedded sacred terrain. I sense life within the giant tree although the branches are bare. Shadows fall from the mid-day sun, and I can almost see the veiled forms of my ancestors -- grandmothers for countless generations. I want to linger here, but feel compelled to follow the path. To the right, a deep valley and sound of River. Beyond the cliff on the left, Ocean and its sandy beach. Ahead the path winds around the base of a mountain.
Active Imagination: The trail winds, hugging the mountain on one side, with a cliff down to Ocean on the other. There is now a soft breeze, small of salt in the air, and sound of waves. In the distance, an isolated mission overlooking Ocean. I notice the path continues beyond the Mission, and am surprised by this.
Active Imagination: The path winds, and steadily I walk toward the Mission overlooking the ocean. I pause to scan the horizon -- no ships, but I discern whale spouts in the distance. I promise myself to return and explore the beach, perhaps swim. Continuing, I notice the smell of piñon in the still air. Approaching the Mission I notice it appears deserted, but also welcoming and familiar. Through a part in the adobe wall there is an entrance. A bright, warm light shines from within, and at the threshold is a hand carved statue with Raven wings.
Active Imagination: It is cold, quiet, still inside the Mission. I'm pulled forward, toward a warm light pouring through a small window in the stone. This room is familiar -- perhaps something I've seen in a photograph or textbook. I imagine putting my hand into the stream of light, but I do not move closer. Instead, I trace my steps back outside, noticing the warmth of the sun on my skin, and look down to the ocean. I will return to this room another time.