Inner Flame

One of the Companions of the Silent Eye has agreed to share a glimpse of her first experience preparing and working with the Amarex, a symbolic light against the darkness that we use as the focal point for the daily meditation.

amarex flame

Many people may wonder what to expect from a school such as ours. If this sharing can draw back the veil and show a glimpse of light beyond then that is a beautiful gift. Thank you, Alethea.


The creation of the Amarex was symbolic for me in so many ways. Memories surfaced as I walked the aisle of the fabric shop, along with anxiety about whether I would find what I needed, and build the foundation of this journey in the “correct” way. Fittingly I started sewing on the 11th, the doorway date, and that night I dreamed of entering the “Magic Kingdom,” but magic comes at a cost doesn’t it? While I created my Amarex, I let memories and emotions wash through me and reflected on why they were coming up.
There was joy – memories of sewing with my mother before the sadness and anger of later years and our separation occured. I untangled threads that had long been wrapped, years perhaps, in my sewing machine, replacing the purple of a forgotten project with black. I sewed imperfect lines, and stitched over them with a wave of red. I gathered my candle, which I had recently considered tossing aside to forget about the man who had given it to me, my stepfather, and placed it in the center, its red base causing a dent in the soft body of fabric.
The 12th, the day of my stepfather’s birthday, was a cause of self, and not joint, celebration. I untied the cord in the color of old blood and lay it aside. The black velvet felt heavy as I unfolded it into its square. A solid foundation I had created all on my own, even if the red border was not a straight line with 90 degree angles. No, my angles wanted to bend into the center, where the flame would soon be lit. Had I expected to feel resentment, sadness? After all, I was using his gift, but only the light of peace spread through me as I disappeared into the fire.
Warmth spread through me as I entered the body of night in all its soft layers and found the light at its center. The light, I realized was me, and when my eyes unfocused, held captive to the flame, I saw that it was twinned. The physical, mirrored in the illusion, the trick of the eye. Which one was more real? The one I had lit, or its mirror? I realized they were both “real,” both a part of who I was. The ego and the soul and the dark and the light within me, dancing together, albeit awkwardly, united into twinned flames, as long as they were allowed to be seen and felt by my seeking self.
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