The Doll

SoulCards(c) Deborah Koff-Chapin

I open to the Truth of these images - the messages contained within Self and world. I am guided by Her Light of Forgiveness - to let go, release, set free all that has been carried within.


Each cell is vibrant with juicy life when I open for they are connected to Akash and partake of the Love as well as return it when they are offered freedom.


I feel the healing energy flowing and I merge into One as we step into the most incredible ice castle of crystalline staircases, pale blue walls spread with snowflake wallpaper, the roof is dazzling sky, lit at night with a million eyes watching and guiding. 


A Phoenix soars within the temple chamber of the castle, Her feathers bright as sunshine as She lights the way into each room, even those long closed off, the door grating, creating a small pile of ice shavings as it opens, leaving a scar upon the clear shiny floor. 


I look inside, not sure what I'll find, and there sits a doll, not the pretty ones I remember from childhood, but one that is raggedy and dirty, sawdust trickling out of its sagging body, the button eyes tired but watchful, a silver glint lingers in the dull mother-of-pearl even after all this time. The Phoenix flies directly to the doll and settles next to it, a wing extending around the small form. 


I kneel in front of the doll, the floor hard but warm in the glow cast by the remarkable golden feathers of the Phoenix. Fingers trembling, I reach toward the doll and tentatively touch its worn, drab clothing, the fabric rough and fragile, threads pulling away, falling from the whole weakly. Then, where I've felt its costume, I see color begin to seep in, first rust, then red, and as I continue exploring its shape, somewhat familiar, the doll's clothes transform into a patchwork coat, all the glorious colors of the rainbow, brilliant! Her straw hair softens and lengthens into tresses that swing and move gently, caressing, as I run my fingers through it in wonder. Her cheeks blush and - wait - was that a sigh escaping the lips embroidered with such delicacy so long ago? The bump of a nose regains its shape and the amazing eyes start to twinkle with true luminosity, a gift of the oceans depths. I reach out with both hands and bring the doll to my chest, hugging her close as tears fall from our eyes. This precious memory doll recovered and healed, I feel the wings of the Phoenix embrace us both, She has become Herself, full and loving and wise. I stand within Her presence, cradling my memory of past injury, and I feel my body become stronger from within, stronger in Self and in Compassion. 


We walk from the room, the door having melted entirely, only a residual puddle into which the last teardrops fall with a light 'plop.' I leave the castle for now, and run to the field of poppies blazing in bright sunshine, where I toss the beautiful doll high, memory transformed, into the air and she bursts into butterflies of all shapes and sizes and colors that flutter and play among my full heart field, and I laugh as the Phoenix soars toward the sun to sit atop a sentinel pine. Watching. Protecting.

"I am as I see my Self, not as others see me."