The Imaginal Realm: where stories are born

Here we are remembering the medicine that lives within our imagination. To reclaim a forgotten tool for our most enriching guidance. That opens us up to the true richness of the world beyond the eyes

Have you ever wondered about your imagination? What is it? What relevance does it serve in this world? Many people think of the imagination as an insignificant part of us. The stuff of children. Something we eventually grow out of. "Real” adults are expected to bypass their imagination for a greater emphasis on logic. On what can be seen with the eyes. What is “real” has been squeezed into a box of only what can be experienced with your 5 earthly senses. In this way, our brains have learned to tune out our other senses. That of feeling. Our feeling sense is the gatekeeper into the imaginal realm that is infused into the physical world. It is an inseparable part of it that may only be glimpsed through our openness to perceive it. The feeling sense has been deeply neglected in this new age of modernism. Left behind like a leaf in winter. We have forgotten all that lies beyond the eyes. The feeling sense is funny in this way, for it moves beyond the rationality of the physical world. It plays in spaces away from what we can make sense of. It asks for the intricacies of our imagination to really explore the true depth of life.

That which we cannot see, but can feel, asks for a story to be told. A way to express its experience. Our imagination is a tool then, that helps us grasp the elusive and mystical nature that is layered upon the physical world. The meaning behind the words. The spirit behind the form. It brings to life all that otherwise lays lifeless and inanimate. When we live our life rooted in our imagination, we are tapped into our intuitive centres. We are engaging with the spirit that lives in all experiences, all forms, all thoughts. Our imagination is our tool to experience the true depth that is this life, in all the layers of its existence. That is what is spoken about when we talk about dimensions, after all. These layers that exist in between each other. Like an onion, it may be peeled away to reveal another layer of truth. Suddenly then, a tree is no longer just a big leafy trunk and long roots, it is a being. That holds a personality. That has desires. That stores memories of their past. It belongs to a lineage. It is no longer simply its parts, to be analyzed and explained, but a whole being, a part of something more. When we allow our imagination to guide us, we may get to know these new layers of perceiving the world. And be enriched by the stories they have to tell.

Many people feel invalided in their experience of their imagination. We have been conditioned to think that there is nothing more than what we see. We have been taught to disregard our imagination and our intuition has been discredited by the innovations of fact. What the soul deeply desires right now is to come back into these spaces of imagination. For in them lies the breath in all of life. In this, there is found meaning, purpose, and peace. The soul’s longing to experience life in its true depth is found in its embrace of these intuitive capabilities that we have been given. They serve a fundamental purpose in our experience here. When we acknowledge them, and the fact that we have these abilities for a reason, we may move more fully into what they may serve. To be embodied within all that there is here. These stories that lay upon all things are reservoirs of wisdom that we may tap into, to remember.

Here we are invited to give ourselves permission again, to play within the guidance of our imagination. It is what brings joy to life and laughter to breath. In this way, we may learn from children. The purest of souls who have not yet grown into the conditioning to ignore their imagination, and instead see the world only through it. What a magical world children see. It is one where the trees are living beings we may befriend. One where the flowers sing us songs and the fairies live in long-forgotten teapots. Life seen through the eyes of a child is a life experienced in its true richness. Its true abundance.

Our imagination is as real as anything else in our waking physical life. It is a tool that may be used to explore different dimensions of existence. The layers that live upon this earth in all its many forms. The realms of creation that move beyond what we can see, and live deep within all that we can imagine. They are real. The land of fairies and giants. The realm of wizards and trolls. All the fairytales perhaps stemmed from a truth that once was. That still is. Yet is no longer seen. And all that remains of it is a story told through generations. This invokes an image for me of the ancient forests that used to stretch on for miles. Within this world, were there no spirits that dwelled within the depth of it all? In this wild there was a whole world awakened. Everything comes alive to whisper in your ear. To caress your skin. Every sound heightened, every tree suddenly spoke, telling stories. The vines moved beneath you, with a mind of their own. The mushrooms walked along the ground. The world was alive and wild. As the trees were cut and lands cleared, in their place grew houses, farms, parking lots and skyscrapers. in the wild lands, it's easy to see them. yet the more we strayed from those roots, the easier it was to dismiss these stories as fantasy. The spirits were forgotten. Continuously pulling us further and further from what it all once was. What it meant to us. The spirits were forced to flee. To find a new home. Above, and below. Now they dwell within the subliminal spaces. Between the roots of trees and behind the clouds. They remain for you to find again. They live imprinted within the workings of your mind.

The imaginal realm is this space. Where once again we can play with the mushroom kingdoms and fly with the winged ones. It is as enriching as we allow it to be. It is our portal through which we may access these spaces. And how far we go is up to us. As we dissolve the restrictions and boundaries of the physical world, we expand and are in witness to all the dimensions tucked away within the curves and crevices of the world. A space of communion with all that is sacred. All that is ancient. The spirits and the ancestors.

The imagination has been discredited in this modern world. Stamped a plaything for children. And in this, we have lost our connection to all that it may open us into. The reality that it serves to create. The same processes that cleared those forests now dampen our minds. We have grown dull to the true depth that is infused into life. Yet, like the dream world, it offers us a glimpse into something else. It remains for us to remember. Like all the aspects of our being, it serves a purpose. A guidance. A tool that one may use to enrich this experience of life. This is universal wisdom that we all have access to. That we all belong to. To see everything alive with a story and a tale to tell. To explore and play within these spaces of creation, that carve out all that you desire.  It lives within the boundlessness of your imagination. Waiting to be seen again. It is the easel upon which we paint our lives. Everything begins in the imagination. As it is nurtured, it flourishes, it becomes infused with spirit and comes alive with passion. So it may be. A life lived in its fullest potential and richest story.