Enelram sat at the center of the Universe and pondered the happenings on the planet called Earth. She yearned to be there to speak to the trees, the animals of the forest, all creatures living there...big and small. Often she wondered and thought about how she might come to live there, walk upon the land and experience the joy of life in all its many forms. Spider Mother watched and listened. She heard her dream. And then she gathered some of the grasses of the earth, a feather from a winged one, some fire from a firefly and moisture from a drop of dew. For seven days and seven nights she spun them into threads of every color and wove these threads into a wondrous web of light. She motioned to Enelram to pass through and breathed a song of joy into her heart. And so it was done. The sun shone brightly on her work.

Enelram could now speak on Earth Mother's tongue. She could communicate in so many ways she could not before. Her joy was great. She now was a true reflection of the All That Is. Each time she saw something she knew herself in a whole new way. Everything she tasted was yet another facet of her own being. And when she heard and touched the flowers, she heard and touched only herself. It was like bumping and walking into herself over and over again. She was in love with everything and most of all she was in love with herself.

However, many of the Earth beings already there thought that what they saw, heard and touched was something other, something separate. They moved as orphans lost to their Mother, umbilical cords quietly severed and forgotten. They walked in a labyrinth lined with mirrors blinded only by visions of themselves. Like a flock of lone sheep among the moors, they seemed caught in a hopeless bubble of time. And so it came to be that in this earthly web of Time and Measure that Enelram's sight was dimmed as well. With outstretched arms she yearned for a Beauty that seemed just beyond her reach stirred only by vague memories of a song she used to sing or a star that called her home.

It happened one day when she came of age, that she was gathering some plants in the meadow. She pricked her finger on a nettle leaf and a drop of blood fell to her skirt. She went to a nearby well to wash it off. In the circle of water, her reflection called to her and she waited and watched for what seemed a long time. It seemed she heard a Voice arise from the very depth of the well.

And the Voice said, "It is not the reflection itself that is true, but that which is being reflected."

No sooner had the last word been uttered than she felt herself slipping...slipping through...beyond and deep into herself until at last she found she was sitting on a distant shore. At first she thought she heard someone call her name but it was only the rustling in the trees. She thought she saw a shadow dart through the woods, but it was only the fear flickering in her heart. And then it was in the distance somewhere that the lonesome call of a jackal pierced the silence and she looked towards the moon but it was far beneath her. What manner of place is this, she thought, that the moon shines bright beneath my feet and the jackal's cry seems to rise from deep within my own being?

And the voice continued, "Welcome to the Center of the Universe. It is here that you've come to be Whole. The mind and the world are Opposites and vision arises where they meet. You've looked beyond the part you call yourself and made it to the other side. And now you see the whole of you. The you that is me, that is we. What you see is your own true self. Know that you are home".