When Walls Collapse
A Man Rediscovers a Childhood Memory of the Light and Sound
By David Barnes
When I learned that my childhood home was going to be demolished, I decided to visit it one more time.
When I arrived, the wrecking crew had gone to lunch, leaving the job only partly done. Still standing were the steps that led to the bedroom I had shared with my four brothers. Although the outside walls were gone, my bedroom was still there.
As I climbed the stairs, I was flooded with memories. I had learned so much in my nine years in that room.
I paused where my bed had been. It had been a good bed. My parents had been firm believers in an afternoon nap, probably mostly for the respite it gave them from their active sons.
During those naps, I had watched the long rays of the afternoon sun drip down the wall like melting butterscotch, and soon my eyes would grow heavy.
I never told my parents what happened next.
As I began to drift into sleep, I learned to look forward to an odd sensation that signaled a welcome change. My perceptions would shift and soon I’d find myself hovering above the bed, with everything around me in sharp focus.
Next, a globe of bluish light would move slowly across the room, accompanied by a beautiful high pitched sound. It brought with it a feeling of love and peace. Resting in its comfort and warmth, I knew all was well. I would fall fast asleep in the joy and freedom of that sound.
Many years later, I learned through the teachings of Eckankar that my naptime childhood visitor had been the Mahanta, the inner teacher, in the form of Light and Sound.
In the course of a life, some walls are built and others torn down. But I’ve learned that when walls collapse, they are often replaced with windows. When I look and listen closely, the light of recognition and the song of Divine Spirit fill my heart as they did on those golden afternoons in my childhood room.
Dave Barnes lives with his
wife in Englewood,
Colorado where he enjoys
hiking, skiing and snowshoeing.