The Adventure Begins
Finding the Teacher Within.
In my mind, the Teacher was waiting for me on a mountain. I pictured us sitting together, high above the world, the wind carrying whispers of ancient secrets. One of my New Year’s resolutions had been to find this Teacher—someone who could guide me to the hidden truths of the Soul. But as the months passed, that vision remained just that: a vision. I met remarkable people along the way, each one illuminating a part of my journey, but the mystical encounter I had imagined never came. Not until recently.
During my most recent, fateful, week in Lisbon, a friend introduced me to a woman who could read auras. Intrigued, I agreed to a session. Her insights into my energy were startlingly precise, as if she were speaking directly to the deepest parts of me. At one point, she told me I needed to find specific stones to help release stuck energy.
“Where can I find them?” I asked.
“There’s a place in Sintra full of them,” she replied.
Sintra was a drive away, and I didn’t have a car. I hesitated, thinking it might be too much of a stretch. “Thank you,” I said, “but I might have to look elsewhere.”
After a pause she offered, “I could drive us both there tomorrow”. She was as surprised as I was! But we knew her words were an invitation from the Universe itself. I accepted.
The next day dawned unusually warm for late November. As we drove toward Sintra, the sun cast a golden glow over the winding roads. My new friend shared something that stayed with me: “Fog,” she said with a smile, “is how the Elementals work to transform energy.” How beautiful, I thought.
When we arrived, her vision of the exact spot we needed eluded us. But that didn’t matter. We wandered deeper into the forest, where the energy of the trees and ancient boulders seemed to lull us into a quiet reverence. As we explored, I found the small black stones she’d described and picked them up. We paused often, sitting in silence, sharing stories, and marveling at the wisdom of nature.
Eventually, we reached a high clearing near a massive boulder. The trees parted, revealing the sea glimmering in the distance. We sat, our backs resting against the ancient guardians of the forest.
“Teach me how to read auras!” I finally asked, eager to learn more about her incredible gift.
She smiled gently. “Matilde, there’s nothing I can teach you that you don’t already know. Your Soul has mastered this and so much more in past lifetimes. Any course you take would be but a drop in the ocean of knowledge you already possess.”
Her words resonated deeply, but the question remained: how could I access what I couldn’t remember? As I struggled with that question, I began channeling energy into one of the black stones. It grew heavy in my hand, charged with something intangible yet powerful.
“Ask that energy what it is,” she encouraged.
I closed my eyes, trying to connect. But it felt like hitting a wall. Frustrated, I admitted, “I can’t see anything.”
“That’s okay,” she said with quiet patience. “Let’s see if we can find where your blockage is. Can you sense what age you were when it formed?”
I hesitated, then answered timidly, “I think I was a small child.”
“Can you see the shoes you were wearing?”
Without thinking, I replied, “Small black shoes with ribbons.” The image was startlingly vivid.
“Look up. Where are you standing?”
In an instant, the memory clicked into focus: I was three years old, standing in the hallway of my childhood home, wearing those ribboned shoes. A dark male figure loomed in the doorway. I felt afraid, though a voice reassured me he was a cousin, and there was no need to fear. But I was afraid, nonetheless.
“I don’t have a cousin like that,” I said, dismissing the vision. All my cousins were younger than me. But she stopped me.
“That man is not alive,” she said quietly. “The black you’re seeing is dense energy surrounding him.”
Her words sent a chill through me. “Ask him who he is,” she urged.
A name surfaced instantly. The realization struck like lightning. My grandfather had a cousin who lived on the ground floor of our building. Her husband had passed away before I could remember. In that moment, I knew that I was meant to help him cross over and he had come to me for help.
Helping spirits wasn’t new to me; it often happens in my dreams. I knew exactly what to do. The dense blackness surrounding him began to dissipate, revealing a young man with blond hair and light eyes. Then he was gone.
“He’s crossed,” I said. My friend nodded in silent acknowledgment.
I felt a wave of compassion for my younger self—a little girl, navigating an unseen world without guidance, asked to help when she didn’t yet know how. I sat with her in that memory, embracing her until we became one.
When I opened my eyes, a thin fog had rolled in around us. My friend and I exchanged knowing smiles. The Elementals were at work, transmuting the energy we had released.
In that moment, I realized my vision of sitting on a mountain with a Teacher had come true—just not in the way I’d expected. The Teacher wasn’t there to impart new knowledge but to remind me of what I already knew.
As a gentle breeze brushed against us, I felt a profound peace settle within me. The work of that day was complete. I was grateful to have a witness to what had unfolded, because even as I write this, it still feels hard to believe. But that's the point, isn’t it?
We’re taught to doubt ourselves, to bury our intuitions and visions beneath the weight of logic and reason. Over time, the world around us becomes a veil, obscuring the truth that lies within. We are being asked to remember. To find the courage to look beyond what we’ve been told, to trust what we once knew, and to honor the truths that have always resided deep within us.
The journey isn’t about finding answers outside ourselves—it’s about reclaiming what has always been there, waiting to be remembered. Sometimes, the Teacher we seek is simply the space to believe in ourselves again.
And so the adventure begins.