WHEN? WHERE?
We looked at each other, shock and awe reflecting from the other.
“I just can't believe,” Lily sighed, “how deep we are into something so multidimensional. It's sort of taking my breath away, really.”
“I am curious,” I asked, hoping not to offend, “how one goes about packing for a vacation like this.”
What a vacation we had already had! Both in our flannels just minutes after Sabrina and Eddie took off, we decided to get to sleep by coming up with the perfect vacation scenarios. We'd each do one we'd always imagined taking alone, and then we'd imagine one taken together, and we did that for, gosh, maybe eight rounds.
Remember, we are each travelers, by soul, so it was really hard to stop, actually. The best vacations we had ever dreamed up were the ones we would have gone on whether we were alone or with someone, so those were the ones we decided, in the end, to concentrate on.
It was hard to narrow down the field. Here is our attempt to solidify a dream vacation.
TAKE A TRIP WITH ME
How about a rail trip all through Europe, spending as much time in any city that calls to us, just going from site to site, historic places, chateaux we fancy lived in, monasteries, all that stuff. The past-life-European-tour. Then add in Stonehenge, all the old sites in England. Yeah. That's good. And make sure we hit England and Scotland during rainy season, please. No, really. The rainy season. Please?
OK, there was that one. Then there was Indian extravaganza, hooking up with swamis and teachers and just getting to know the country as much as we want to. Then swinging over to some of the other Asian places we've heard about on Ancient Aliens, maybe even that weird tunnel one in Turkey. Heck, we could then go on to Africa, seek out Credo, if he's still alive.
So, then there was the South America junket, with all the old Mayan and Aztec stuff, lots of peyote and good vibes, hopefully some beach time and just a lot of decadence. Sounds a little shallow, that one, but it had to get on the final list, after all.
Then came America. I voted for traveling the Canadian/American border from one coast to the other, ending in Montreal, Quebec, where we would then live forever. I had the same notion about the corn belt, the east coast, the west coast, and the great northwest, the Iron Grange, the headwaters, so, really, that's where it all breaks down for me. I wind up wanting to pull up tent pegs and settle wherever I go. But really, that's not just a domestic problem. Feel the same thing internationally. And I want to go everywhere, especially in America. I want to live everywhere, hence, for me, in a real way, the whole world is my home. A traveler.
Lily is thankfully not as much of a nomad this time around, and she's done her best to make my house homey enough for me to want to think of it as a base of operations, at least. We really though about the road tripping Americas being a dream vacation, but with so much available, why just go poking around our backyard? Why not run away from home and explore someplace brand new?
At three, we finally retired. It was so energizing to talk about all the places we have always yearned to know. For all our compatibility, it is always a joy when we can once again celebrate even more of ourselves and each other. Two old travelers, swapping postcards of long lost loved places.
Bliss.
OVER COFFEE
That morning, we finally got moving close to ten, a rare luxury in our house. Both of us feeling just a tad sheepish about all the rest, we exchanged greetings and went to get the coffee going.
It's become a custom for us to, first thing, go to the kitchen and drink some coffee, over which we discuss our dreams.
There is a tribe, somewhere I think in Polynesia, that are tribe of the dreamers. The ones who have the highest status in the tribe are those who can lucid dream, and whose dream life intersects with his waking time. They begin each morning discussing their dreams,and go to sleep each night readying for what they consider that most sacred of human tasks.
Last night, I had nothing, once I blinked out. I was meditating in my forest house, consulting with my guides, and then, blankness, sunshine, coffee.
Lily, as usual, is the kahuna of the dream tribe. She was taken last night to a really big library, where all the librarians were dolphins, and she could talk their language. She had lunch with the Queen, who turned out to be a very tame crocodile, and then she was in her office, giving a massage to Melissa Ethridge.
“A lush land you inhabit, Lily,” I said, genuinely. “Do you have any insights as to where we are going to go, where would be for 'our highest good'?”
“Well, we were at Stonehenge, right before I came back here. It was a really dark night, and lots of stars, but that's all I got,” Lily conceded.
“That's a bucket full more than I got last night,” I laughed, finally hitting the coffeepot's “on” button, after all the grinding and pouring and water spillage.
REAL WORLDS COLLIDE
“What do you have planned out for the next little bit?” I asked, having forgotten her schedule.
“Well, I have three clients a day for the next four days, and I need to use the down time to write an abstract.” I haven't mentioned that Lily is a brain. She's doing post-doctoral work in hypnotic theory, really deep stuff, really quantum. Her day job is that of a quantum hypnotherapist, doing ultra-life regressions with people.
She has a pretty rigid schedule, compared to me. I am a freelance bum, and just go with whatever is presented to me. I am working on projects, but they're all so much part of the flow, that I can never tell you exactly what I'm doing, just what I'm focusing on, just what is now available for distribution. That's sort of how I mind my clock anymore. So we lead different patterned lives, but it all works out very well, very balanced.
Lily would have to clear the decks in order to get away, but really, that can't happen until we put a vacation place within the context of a time. Who wants to visit Barbados during monsoon season? That's what was really stumping us.
Where? When? It had become a weird pulse we shared.
“You know,” I said idly, while pouring raw sugar into my cup, “I think we are too magnetized to this. This awesome thing is beginning to feel like a burden, don't you think?”
Lily nodded.
“OK, so let's do the old, “That or something better” thing,” I exclaimed. “I've got it! Got that old wok. And can you find the Epsom salts? You used them last I think. And I'll get the rubbing alcohol. You know where I am going with this?”
Lily shook her head. “No, I don't,” she replied, “But it sounds like fun. Let's get to it.”
BURN IT AWAY
“This is something my guru taught me long ago,” I began.
I poured the Epsom salt into our old, banged up wok. Then I poured the minty rubbing alcohol, something I bought probably 20 years ago, onto the salt. Then I explained.
“What will happen now, is we will have a flame into which we request all energy be run through, purified, lightened. And this flame purifies the entire event. You'll see the flame spark and jump from time to time. Thought forms burning up, like tissue paper.”
Lily looked intrigued, and it felt nice to be taken seriously about this.
“Then, I was thinking,” I continued, “that maybe we could write down our dream vacations, in as highly detailed a way as we choose, and then we put them into the flame, saying, 'That, or something better.'
Lily nodded, smiled, looked enthused.
“I'm just thinking,” I concluded, “That if we write out a vacation knowing we might get that exact vacation, we can only create for the highest good. So we'll pick awesome places, and then just let it go, ok?”
“Let's light this candle,” was all Lily said.
COLORS
We took some quality time, writing out our dream get-aways. We kept commenting on how great it was for this to be what was occupying our attention, as opposed, to say, worrying about something.
Once we were bored of the whole affair, we took a break, got ready, and began.
The ceremony, such as it is, is simple. Just a little prayer of intention, and then staring at a big flame, watching it pop and snap, gathering up and clearing all the energy in the room, entangled as it is in the midst of it all. Very clever, very complete, very pleasant experience.
And then I mentioned it might be fun to do the chakras. I like to imagine big balls of spinning color, chakra by chakra, with the room filling up with whatever color we're doing. It's fun, really pretty, in my mind's eye.
Lily agreed, and slowly we began to breathe in unison.
We took turns, bringing awareness of the chakra into language, into thought, and there we hung, suspended within words and meaning, color and song. I opened my eyes at one point, and the whole room was deep blue, that neat indigo color. I slammed my eyes shut. Too much, sometimes, just a hair too much.
POST OFFICE
Both of us were delighted to find a ticket for us to use at the post office to pick up a certified letter. We'd missed the post man, but knew, by the end of the month, that we were ready to do something new. Lily's project had finished, and I was between edits on two things, waiting for others to tell me what they think.
In this suspended mode, it made sense we would receive word of our reward, our vacation.
We walked to the post office while spending the morning in town, grocery shopping and such. We tore into the letter on the sidewalk, totally against our better judgment and previous agreement.
There we stood, reading these words:
“Chaco Canyon, this coming Tuesday, dusk.
Wear boots. And bring a jacket, you knuckleheads.”
We looked at each other, each just a little crest-fallen, and in unison said, “Eddie.”
We decided that my kid would join us for this event. He was out of school, and he'd always played a big part in our weirdness, when not doing the scholar thing. I thought it was mighty gracious of Lily, but she'd said more than once that Sam gives her something absolutely essential that I am unable to give. I don't know what that means. I just let it be.
I dragged Sam to Chaco when he was eleven. He was mildly enthusiastic, sort of tepid. It was a great trip overall. Chaco was fine. I remembered the drive in all to well. It tore my little car apart, that twenty mile strip of hell. So it was decided we would rent a big truck, insure it, and call it even. We did not find it weird that when we called Hertz, there were reservations for our truck, with Sam's color choice, royal blue.
We had a lovely vacation, very relaxed, and then we wound up, as instructed, at Chaco Canyon, at the observatory, at dusk.
It happened that there was an astronomy demonstration tonight, at dusk.
On an elevated seat, a few feet above his visitors, sat a handsome, strapping man, nearly bursting out of his uniform with charisma and sex appeal. It was not the dumb, preening kind, no, this was the “Baby, I am a star, and so are you, and I have something for you,” and you find yourself really wanting it.
Like that.
We were not surprised that the handsome park ranger/astronomer was host to a well-acquainted party of four. Waiting at an observatory window stood Eddie and Sabrina. They greeted us warmly, we did the same, and the evening got underway.
THE STARS
The park ranger was so spectacularly warm and gentle, that each of us fell in secret, forbidden love with him. In the palm of his hand, every word felt like a gift of exquisite tenderness. What star quality! Each of us listened to him as he explained about the upcoming celestial events.
Then he did something all of us found quite odd.
He began to introduce many of the Mayan teachings, as they relate to astrology, astronomy, but more, to physics, astrophysics, metaphysics.
And then, as we would peer up at him, sitting in his little astronomer’s seat, we, each of us, it turns out, could see him sort of glimmer and shine, and then he began to look like an old Indian, and old Mayan, with a head dress and everything.
Toward the end of his expository, we were all riveted by him, watching him as he shimmered and shone, transforming from handsome park ranger to old Mayan chief.
He then finally began to speak to us while looking at us, as riveted as he had been by the stars, he had us right where a master orator, a master teacher, would want his audience. His form had consolidated in the form of the old Mayan chief, and he climbed out of this astronomer's chair to gather us together.
“You are all part of the rainbow children. Those who come in the time after, those who cannot understand any other way that unity consciousness. This is your way now, as it was ours.” He reached out and held hands with Sabrina and Eddie, who in turn held our hands.
The circle complete, another coming home, another moment of recognition.
It seemed less and less necessary to worry about “the outside world” would think of my reality.
I was beginning to think that the only reality which mattered at all was the one I was knee deep in. Anyone's attempt to judge me, well, it can only be seen for what it is, someone who just doesn't get it. So what? Their misunderstanding diminishes my understanding not one whit.
In the midst of sexy ranger/ancient being, holding hands, slowly we began to sway, then to rock, then to move, in a circle, slowly, reverently. We moved thirty three times in one direction. We slowed, stopped, then did thirty three spins in the opposite direction, and then, after pausing, brought it back home, with thirty three more spins.
I knew what was happening, what this was, but just went along with it, knowing it to be a far more powerful ceremony that probably anyone appreciated at the time.
All I knew was that the shit was now going to be hitting the fan. Big time.
PLEADIAN HI-JINX
I'd had a guru who used this technique, the thirty three spins technique. I'd been told it would “really shake things up,” and that it had. I vowed I'd never do it again. It messed things up, sped things up just too fast.
And here I was, having just completed 99 spins with a dude whose physical form kept changing.
The only other place I'd encountered this technique was in a book by Barbara Marcianak. It's a Pleadian trick. And some of those Pleiadians, oh, don't get me started. If you thought Eddie was bad, a trickster, mischievous, he's got nothing on the true Pleiadians.
I took Sam aside and asked him what he thought.
True to Sam's unusual perspective, he said, “Chief Running Man and I go back a long time. It was good to see him.”
As I found Eddie, to ask him what we might expect next, I noticed that Sam and the Park Ranger were now huddled over the astronomy equipment. Sam was asking questions, keeping things light, I could see, and things were going swimmingly.
I decided there would never be a better time for some fresh air. I excused myself from the cramped observatory and followed the footpath which travels through the visitor's center to the first ancient structure.
The moon was bright and low that night. I felt altered, quiet, and somewhat expectant. I suppose I could have felt let down that we were yet to hit an airplane terminal, all this vacation talk leading me to a night in the New Mexico plain.
“It's been a long time,” came a voice in the wind. I spun around, but, as clear as that voice had been, thee was no one to claim it.
I said, “Whoever said that, please come forward.”
“I am here,” replied the voice, and I felt an urge to keep walking down the little rocky hill, but to do it faster. I rushed to the bottom the the hill, and there was a dainty, beautiful woman who looked a lot like Glinda. She didn't have the weird accent, but the hand gestures and squeaky voice were in full force.
“I’ve been waiting for you,: the apparition said. “My brother is very taken with your son, by the way. Both Two Moons, a very special couple of guys. You did well.”
Sam, now 23, had been out since he could talk, telling me from the bathtub, from the back seat of our car, from the dinner table, that he was gay. So, now that the world was beginning to catch up with his radical self acceptance, I had begun to ease as a mom. Being gay myself, I had not one iota of an issue with Sam finding love with a man.
That he may turn out to be a Pleadian man, well, that's a horse of a different color. At least, if it came to pass that Sam found his way into a galactic situation, Lily and I could visit cool places when we go to visit them at their home.
But these musings were taking my awareness away from this entity very clearly shimmering in front of me, glowing a soft blue light, dressed in a shimmery sari, floating just a couple of inches off the ground.
INTRODUCTIONS
“My name is Samisari, and I am indeed from The Pleiades,” my visitor instructed. “I would like to give you more information as to where, specifically, we are from, but that is a story firmly interwoven into galactic history, hidden Earth history, and many other issues which cannot be discussed freely at the moment. Suffice it to say I am from one of the Seven Sisters. You'll know more after a time.”
“And you are sister to the park ranger, the Mayan Chief?” I asked.
“Dear one, you know how we can morph our appearance. We have been many things to you over the years.” And with that my heart melted, as I became aware of how this person felt, how I felt around her. Then I began thinking about my experience with the park ranger. Other-worldly for sure, but very comfortable, sort of comforting.
“We understand that you are on vacation,” Samisari said.
“I guess that's what this is, yes,” I said. “May I call you Sami?”
“Sari, yes. Sari is wonderful,” she smiled. “And I find myself as the activities director of your cruise, friend.”
She handed me a folder, glossy and white, and embossed with s very fancy gold crest. I decided a glance wouldn't hurt, so I opened the notebook.
Twenty minutes, I looked back up to see Sari floating a few inches from a big yellow rock sticking out of the side of a dry creek bed. She was sitting there, in full-on yogi position, smiling and floating.
I was smiling. I looked down. Still not floating.
I knew, where we were going next, I'd likely be able to get in some practice.
