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Radio Interview with Dr. Osmanagic on Feb 6, 2012

2012-02-11T06:33:00.000-06:00

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Here is a radio interview I did with Dr. Osmanagic earlier this week. I was curious to hear about the latest discoveries, particularly what has happened since I came home to Houston.

Listen to internet radio with The Lois Wetzel Show on Blog Talk Radio

A Day in the Tunnels - Meditating and Taking Notes

2012-02-10T20:53:00.019-06:00

The next morning I had breakfast with the volunteer group, and there were people from all over the world at our table, the farthest being from Australia. People came that summer from around Bosnia, of course, and Canada, Croatia, the USA, England, Scotland, Austria, Spain, Germany, Montenegro, Peru, South Africa, and those are just the ones I know about. People answered the call, most of them from having accidentally surfed the internet and landing on a YouTube video or a blog about the pyramids in Bosnia, or having talked to someone else who had visited there. Everyone felt guided to be a part of the historical event of uncovering the largest pyramid to be found on Earth to date. It was exciting to hear everyone's stories of how they found out about Visoko and the pyramids. There was a lot of synchronicity, as one might imagine.

There were volunteers there mostly to excavate, and occasionally others who were published authors, filmmakers, scientists and the like who had made special arrangements with the Bosnian Pyramid group to offer their expertise and services.

First thing after breakfast Jill and I went to the bank across the street and got some Bosnian marks so I could repay Jill for the money she had graciously loaned me the night before for snacks. I had thought shopkeepers in this tiny town would take Euros, I had researched this while in England, and was told they preferred marks, but would take Euros in Bosnia. This may be true in big cities, but this does not apply to small towns, except for the the cab drivers.

Later we all headed up to the tunnels at Ravne, Jill, Annie and I sharing a cab. Cabs are plentiful and affordable, and, well, this is just how you get around in Eastern Europe if you are a visitor. Jill and Annie worked happily outside sorting through the rubble after it got wheeled out in the wooden pushcarts; they were making sure nothing significant was being tossed. These were older women like me, and were assigned there--letting the younger people do the heavier work of pick axe and shovel and wheeling the cart filled with rubble out to be sorted. The rubble seemed to be just a gravel filler with which someone had filled the tunnels about 10,000 years ago, for some unknown reason. Probably they did it to keep people out, but who knows why for sure. Some speculate that they knew the people of Earth would be going through a fairly barbaric time, which humanity did experience around the time leading up to the Renaissance, so maybe the people who filled the tunnels so carefully, creating drywalls periodically and then filling with gravel for a while, following with a new drywall, were just protecting the superior technology that clearly still operates from inside the pyramids to this day.

Detail of one of the arched side tunnels. Wire is electricity
run in modern times,done so that the volunteers can see what they are doing.

As for as the devolution of human culture, even the Ancient Greeks and Romans spoke of the fact that civilization was devolving. And according to Walter Cruttenden, author of "The Great Year" we go through long, long cycles involving hundreds of thousands of years in which we are on the upswing half the time, evolving and growing and learning more, and then we are on the downswing half the time. We hit the bottom of the down cycle, where man is the least evolved in all ways, during the Kali Yuga, or the Medieval era, and are just now barely coming out of the darkest of times in the grand scheme of things. I strongly suspect the Ancients who filled the tunnels knew of this "Long Year" cycle. According to Cruttenden, the cycle is formed by our sun's long orbit involving a twin star which he suspects may be the triune cluster of stars we refer to as Sirius.

We know there is free energy technology in the tunnels which would have needed protecting, because so many things still function inside the tunnels, as mentioned in an earlier post. It is believed that the tunnels eventually go on up inside the pyramids. And the technology continues to function inside the pyramids, too. We know that because there is the 12.5 meter in diameter beam -- 28 kilohertz in frequency -- at the peak of the Pyramid of the Sun. I only recently found out Dr. Osmanagich did not know the beam was there until we did the Akashic Records experiment here in Houston. We did this with six readers of varying abilities who viewed the records to see what several ancient sites were originally used for, including these pyramids. I was one of those who said there would be a beam of energy coming out the top of the pyramids, and also straight down into the earth as well, eventually going the way through the earth and on infinitely. Later Dr. Osmanagic and a team of scientists went up to the pinnacle of the largest pyramid with instruments to see if the beam were there, and to their amazement, they found it. Additionally, they found that the higher up you go, the stronger the energy is, which is totally the opposite of what our current science tells us is even possible. Clearly we are quite still primitive in comparison to the builders of the pyramids.

Megalith detail - made of a fired ceramic!
Can you imagine the size of the kiln they must have
needed to fit that massive thing inside?

Megalith and benches; that's me in the middle.

When I went to the tunnels that first full day, it was partly because I was interested in spending more time there due to its reported regenerative effects. It was a personal scientific experiment, you might say. Actually, if all the rays bombarding us on the surface that cause ageing are absent in the tunnels, the body would have the opportunity to rejuvenate itself, wouldn't it? Makes sense to me. I took a sweater this time, so I would not freeze and shiver like I had the first time. I found that it was not nearly as uncomfortable as it had been the first afternoon when Semir and I had gone in. I wondered why. As it turns out, each day it seemed less and less uncomfortable, though it was still just as cold. And I saw that people who worked in there all the time, particularly two wiry middle-aged Croatian men, as well as Semir, went in all the time in short-sleeved shirts. They did not seem to feel the cold at all.

I realized only months later that the discomfort which I had taken for feeling cold was probably something else. It was something to which I had become rapidly acclimated. One day a famous Japanese woman who taught some highly advanced form of yoga, I think, came to visit and meditate and give her psychic impressions she got in the tunnels to Semir; he is curious about these kinds of thing. She sat down on a bench near where I was sitting, beside one of the megaliths, and shook violently with the cold, or what she took to be cold. I noticed at the time that I had shed my sweater for good; in retrospect later I realized it was something else I was reacting to that I thought was cold. The entire area is filled with such countless mysteries I cannot remember them all.

I spent several hours exploring alone, and a while meditating to discover what I further information I could pick up in the tunnels. I made notes to share with Semir. More about that later.

That evening I ate a tasty chicken and rice dish with the volunteers, and we had a great time talking for hours. There were so many interesting people there, people of all ages, but all kindred spirits - adventurers like me, and people interested in so many off-the-beaten-path topics! After dinner a few of us went downstairs to complete the feast at the magnificent, large home-made ice cream stand on the sidewalk outside the Hotel Pyramida Sunca. It was a great day.
(Pronounced Pee-rah-MEED-ah SOON-ka)

Pyrimida Sunca Hotel/Pension and the Roomies

2011-10-19T06:35:00.006-05:00

When I went upstairs to lie down, I chose a bed in the room to which I was assigned. It was under the slanting roof, and looked like a snug, private spot. There was evidence of two other people in residence in the room, and they were set up closer to the door. I noticed with delight that there was an open skylight. It was huge. There was no need of air conditioning, which I also noted with great pleasure. That day was really cool outside and overcast. I requested sun and warmth for the rest of my stay, having spoken with Adrian, Semir's assistant, and understood from him that was what they needed for optimal work being accomplished by the volunteers.

My roomies eventually showed up, and they were Englishwomen named Annie and Jill. Jill took me shopping for snacks down the street at the shop where refrigerated items were sold. She loaned me currency which the shopkeepers would take, Bosnian marks, until the bank opened the next morning and I could change currency. All I had were American dollars, British pounds, and Euros. The shopkeepers refused all but Bosnian marks, and can you blame them? We were in Bosnia, after all, and they have not gone on the Euro yet. Fortunately, cab drivers take Euros, or I never would have gotten to Visoko!

I had supper with the volunteers, and it was quite tasty--a stew made in the hotel kitchen. We were allowed to put our refrigerated items, like cheese and yogurt and fruit in their refrigerator. I was very surprised and grateful. The dining room was huge, and we had our own table with a spectacular view of the Pyramid of the Sun right out the window. I was so happy!

We all sat around talking for quite some time after the meal, and then retired to the rooftop to talk further. There were people there from all over the world, most of them quite young. This was interesting to me, that they were there to help excavate these pyramids. People from all over the world were answering a soul level calling, I realized. There was even a mother and father with a teen-aged son there working to clear off the Pyramid of the Sun, which, by the way, will take decades.

People asked me what I thought. I wondered what that meant. I discovered that they wondered if I thought these were real pyramids--given all the artificial controversy which has been stirred up. Well, of course, I had no problem seeing that these were pyramids. I knew this clearly the first time I saw them on the internet, because I have had the unique perspective of having seen scores of Mayan pyramids in the Yucatan which were covered with dirt and trees. Over thirty years ago I had traveled there extensively. Those pyramids and are now uncovered. There were partially uncovered pyramids in the Yucatan at that time, too, as well as those which had been partially uncovered. So I already knew what camouflaged-by-mother-earth pyramids look like. Semir had seen them as well in the Yucatan, and elsewhere, which is why he recognized them when he first came to Visoko back in 2005. It would only be something you could overlook if you had not been around a lot of Mayan pyramids!

There are still hundreds of uncovered pyramids all over the planet. We are learning this from satellite imaging--there are pyramids on absolutely every continent. In the USA, we call them Indian medicine mounds, and we do not excavate them. The Amerindians felt the energy, and went straight to the tops of these ancient monuments which were covered even then with earth. They went there for healing. Why? Many pyramids emit healing frequencies.

If a "hill" has four equal sides, perfectly aligned to cosmic north, south, east and west, who would seriously think the hill was a natural feature? Just because it is covered with several feet of earth and vegetation, how could one think that it was naturally formed? What happens over tens of thousands of years of plants dropping their leaves, eventually dying, and meteors crashing into our atmosphere, being burned up and the dust from that dropping everywhere, plus animals dying and leaving their bodies to become fertilizer/soil, and rocks eroding? Dirt builds up. That is how soil is formed, we learned this in middle-school science class, right? This is why the pyramids the Ancients left all over the planet are covered with soil now.

It does not take a rocket scientist to see that these are pyramids in the valley in Visoko. What amazes me is the people who do NOT see this clearly...

I had a great time on the rooftop that evening watching the sun set over the hills on the back side of the hotel, talking with the other volunteers. It was a great day!

The Tunnels at Ravne - August 10, 2011

2011-09-16T10:42:00.004-05:00

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I am going to tell you just a few of the unbelievable things I learned that first day in the tunnels at Ravne.

When Semir and I arrived at the tunnels, we parked the car and went inside. Walking through the tunnels we stopped periodically as he explained things. After the first few minutes I was shivering. I suddenly realized that it was a good twenty or thirty degrees colder in the tunnels than the outside, and that the temperature shift was within five or six feet of entering the tunnel. I asked him how that was possible - there was no door, the tunnels were wide open to the outside. He said he did not know, but that it was consistently the same temperature year round, approximately 55 degrees Farenheit no matter what the temperature was outside. It felt much colder to me; I was shivering all over. It was like a meat locker in there. I kept saying that this was just not possible. How could this be possible. Semir answered that there were a lot of impossible things in the tunnels. For example, there are no negative radiations in the tunnel; no cosmic radiation, no Hartman's, Curry's or Schneider's grids. There was no natural radioactivity or negative energy radiating from the movement of the underground water. There is perfect air circulation, unlike in the mines we dig today, and that circulation is created by different ceiling heights. The ceiling would get higher and lower in an undulating pattern. In some spots we would have to bend way over to walk through. This difference in ceiling height causes different air pressures which then pushes the air long just like a natural fan. The slope of the tunnels is at 1.5 degrees which is the same slope we use in construction today for the best water drainage. The negative ion concentration is dozens of times higher than average, which makes the atmosphere free of viruses and bacteria. This explains the healings that some people have claimed to experience inside the tunnels. It also explains why the pools of water which have been uncovered down there when tested are perfectly clean and drinkable. I drank a litre of it the last day I was there. It was ice cold and delicious.

Oddly, when they drain the pools of water, they refill overnight from an unknown source. There is a lot of moisture in the tunnels,seeming to ooze and drip from the walls.

At one point I saw within this complex of intersecting tunnels which curve and wind around, a side room, of which there were many. This particular side room caught my attention because the ceiling was made of sand. No, it was not sandstone. I am very familiar with that material. This was just loose sand. I could see clearly that the ceiling was made of loose sand. Just to test that theory, I reached up and raked my fingers across the ceiling, and the tiniest bit of loose sand fell to the floor. I asked how that was possible. How was loose sand just hanging up there with no support and making up the ceiling of a small room? Semir replied that his best guess was that some form of anti-gravity was being used, but it was not a technology that we currently understand. Once the sand fell after I scraped it, though, it just remained on the floor.

I also noticed that the tunnels seemed to have been sculpted out of what looked like giant loose gravel; the individual stones were very large. And once to test a personal theory a few days later, I pulled a small stone out of the wall of the tunnel. It came out easily, but when I tried to put it back, it would not go back into the spot it came from, just like the sand, when it came loose, it was loose for good. I brought a small stone back home with me, and only then realized that there were calcite crystals growing on one side, the side that had been facing the open tunnel. This means it had been exposed to the air in a damp, closed environment for a long time, maybe thousands of years. Calcite crystals form very, very slowly.

The nearest pyramid, the one the tunnel seems to be pointed in the direction to go under,is called the Pyramid of the Sun. Its north face aligns perfectly to Cosmic North--within one degree,according to the State Institute for Geodesy. This is the most precise orientation to cosmic north of any known pyramid on Earth. The angle of the sides is at 45 degrees to the base. This pyramid has a height of 220 meters and is higher than the Great Pyramid in Egypt which only measures 147 meters in height. The Pyramid of the Sun also has a beam of energy coming out the pinnacle. This beam of energy increases in intensity the farther from the pyramid it goes. So either the beam is coming from elsewhere and getting weaker the closer it gets to Earth, or it is coming from the pyramid itself utilizing a form of technology which we do not understand, yet again. No one knows yet. The frequency of the beam of energy coming from the pinnacle is 28 kilohertz, which is the same frequency that will lower the blood/brain barrier in human beings. The beam of energy measures 4.5 meters across.

The Pyramid of the Sun is completely covered by rectangular concrete blocks. Properties of the concrete, such as extreme hardness and low water absorption, are, according to the scientific institutions in Bosnia, Italy and France, much superior to modern concrete materials. These concrete blocks are about twice the width of a massage table and the same length, and a foot or two thick. This concrete is five times as hard as anything we know how to make.

After we finished seeing the part of the tunnels that were open and dug out at the time, we drove back to the Pirimida Sunca Hotel where I was staying with the other volunteers. Driving back, Semir said he was interested in hearing anything I might pick up intuitively about the tunnels or the pyramids. So I decided to take notes.

After Semir dropped me off, I went upstairs to lie down; it had been a long, long day which had started in London.

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To learn more about the tunnels and excavations, go to this blog created by a California filmmaker I met while I was there from August 10-17, 2011. His name is Jock Doubleday. I also met Nenad Djurdjevic and Amir Susa, as well as many others who are featured in his films. http://bpblognews.blogspot.com/

One Wild Wedding - And Three Days in London

2011-09-03T16:50:00.001-05:00

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That night after my experience in the crop circle beside the Long Barrow, there was a wedding at Lydiard House. It went until 2:00 am. It was the noisiest melee ever. I had to close my window, as many of the revelers decided to drink and talk loudly outside the front door, and my window was above the entrance to the hotel. It got pretty hot in my room. And despite the ear plugs and closed window, I still could not sleep. Unfortunately, when I asked at the front desk if there were a quieter room where I could be moved, the answer was no--with a "too bad" attitude from someone at the front desk I did not recognize.

The next morning I packed to leave, and was feeling badly. I did not know if it was from lack of sleep or from the session in the crop formation or something else. I was nauseous and head-achey. I decided to take my son's friend in London up on her offer of a place to stay for a couple of days. I rode the bus to Luton where she picked me up, and spent three delightful days with her and her husband and two small children. They are some of the nicest people on earth! I might adopt them. During the day we went to the parks in London which were child-friendly, and there were several. At some point I realized that I was feeling the effects of pollen; I was having an atypical allergic reaction to something I had encountered in Wiltshire's air.

During this time I booked my flight on Austrian Air for Sarajevo, since I was supposed to arrive there on the 10th. Bright and early on the 10th I left for Sarajevo with a stopover in Vienna. After reading the seat-pocket advertisements for Austria, I now definitely want to go back and visit there. Sitting in the Vienna airport I realized that all hints of the allergic reaction were gone. Whatever that pollen was, Austria does not have it.

That afternoon I finally arrived in Sarajevo. I walked outside with the intention of going to the bus station, and asked a woman by the door if she knew where that might be. She said if I did that, I would have to wait several hours for a bus to Visoko, and why did I not ride with them as they were going in the same direction. She said that they could drop me off on the way. We could share cab fare and save some money. So she and her husband and daughter and I all rode to Visoko. I called Semir on the way to ask him how to tell the cabbie to find the hotel. He asked me to hand the phone to the driver and I did. And Semir handled it. Thank goodness, because I would not have had a clue where that hotel was, and the driver did not know either.

On the way there, as we got outside Sarajevo, I was impressed with how much the architecture, the mountains and the light reminded me of a cross between Costa Rica and Venezuela. Bosnia looked like Latin America! Seriously, what a shock. I am still a bit amazed at that. Of course, in the winter, it might not look like Central America, which is quite tropical.

When I arrived in Visoko, Semir's assistants were waiting for me and drove me to a place where we were to meet Semir. It was colder than I expected, and I bought a "Pyramid of the Sun" T-shirt to wear over my blouse to keep warm as we waited for him to finish showing around some foreign dignitaries. When he arrived the two of us took off in his car for the Tunnels at Ravne. I was excited when I realized I was about to get a one-person tour of the tunnels! YES!

West Kennett Long Barrow - August 6, 2011

2011-08-30T11:42:00.004-05:00

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The morning of the next day I walked the half-mile or so up the lane from Lydiard House to the local bus stop. On the way I noticed all the fruit growing along the roadway. Plums, apples and blackberries lined the entire way up the lane. A young man at the bus stop across the street told me the bus he was taking also went to the big Swindon station where I could catch a bus to Marlborough. There I planned to attend the crop circle conference as Egil had suggested the day before. The bus across the way got there first, so I climbed aboard. It snaked through the streets of Swindon for about twenty minutes before arriving downtown. I asked an older man on the bus where the big bus station was, and he said he would walk me there, because it was complicated--and he was getting off there anyway. He was right; I never would have found it by myself.

I waited there about thirty minutes before catching a bus to Marlborough. After I got there, I wandered around until I found the correct building at Marlborough College, which was a beautiful old structure with gorgeous gardens. This was where the conference was being held. The lectures were rather expensive, but I decided to attend for that day anyway. The first lecture was about half over when I arrived, but it was rather interesting, covering thirty years' worth of crop formations. Sadly, the next lecture was poorly prepared and was about the Hathors' Temple in Egypt. I never got the connection to crop circles. I was curious about the lecture, though, because I work with the Hathors in my healing room, and wanted to know more about their ancient temple. Turns out is is just a pile of rubble now. We broke for lunch, and I ate at a pub nearby.

It was cold outside even though the sun was out, and there was a fire near my table. I liked the idea of sitting near a fire in a cold room in August. This was a real treat for me, given the usual Texas heat I experience in August. After eating, I returned to the college for the next lecture. It was given in French, and the translator was stumbling all over herself and kept getting loud corrections from the audience members. Somewhat frustrated, I decided to leave the conference. I walked outside to a tent where there were displayed all kinds of dowsing tools and books offered by the local dowsers' club. I purchased a set of fine copper dowsing rods which I had been wanting for a while and got directions from the man in charge as to how to get to West Kennett Long Barrow. I had a nice map of the area which I had purchased in Avebury the day before. It became clear I first had to catch a bus back to Avebury.

I walked back up the main street to where the bus stops were, looking puzzled while trying to figure out which buses went to Avebury, and of all things, Egil the Norwegian hangs out of one of the bus doors and calls to me. I did not even recognize him at first. He tells me this bus he is on is headed for Avebury. I hop on and ride on out there. Egil explains how to walk to West Kennett Long Barrow from Avebury. I get off the bus and head in the direction of where I think he has said that the Barrow (an ancient burial chamber) is located.

After walking quite a distance across a field with some more megaliths in it, and spending time meditating at the base of one of them which attracted me, I ask a group of young men which way the Barrow is. You are now wondering why men are giving me directions. It's because I know that women do not usually give very good directions; I myself could not do so until in my forties my livelihood became dependent upon my giving giving clear, concise directions to my location. So I now ask men for directions. The Barrow was unfortunately back in the direction from which I had come.

Grumbling to myself somewhat, I walked back in the original direction, and found the path to the Barrow. The distance to the Barrow turned out to be what felt like about five miles away. I had to climb over turnstiles and walk and walk and walk. I got hungry and fortunately had some trail mix in my backpack as well as plenty of water. Much of the walk was uphill. I was panting and my heart beating wildly when I got about halfway up the hill and noticed with amazement that in a field off to my left there was a crop circle. Not one to pass up such a nice surprise, I put money in the farmer's donation box and walked up a tram line into the empty crop circle. It was the smallest one I had seen by air the previous day. I had not photographed it at all, because it seemed too small and insignificant. Now I certainly wish that I had.

I laid down almost in the center of this circle because I was very tired, and my heart was pounding from all the hiking uphill, across pastures and over turnstiles for over an hour and a half. As soon as I did that, I closed my eyes and I saw telepathically a circle of what I took to be Druids wearing white standing along the edge of the central circle. I mean that I saw them in my mind's eye. They began chanting and toning, swaying slightly, and communicated to me that I was having a "Lightbody Activation." It felt good, so I remained there about seven or eight minutes until they were done. I started to get up, and then was told I could do that, or I could remain a bit longer. I decided to lie down and remain there.

And then I unexpectedly went "out like a light." It was like when we lose consciousness on a massage table and go far, far away. I had no idea where I had gone, but ten minutes or so later when I came back, I saw in my mind's eye that a woman from the circle of Druids had come over and worked on me. She was speaking to me in a lilting language, which I knew to be Gaelic, and I understood what she was saying. I cannot now remember what she said, except for the last thing, which was "We worked with them too, you know." I knew by 'them' she meant The Ankenash. "My, my, how about that," I was thinking, "they worked with them too!"

I got up slowly feeling relaxed and refreshed, and realized there were now other people in the crop formation, though none of them had stepped into the central circle where the Druids were surrounding me. They moved into the center after I got up. These other people had remained very quiet while I was lying there.

As I got up to leave I wondered if this were the whole reason I had been guided to West Kennett Long Barrow in the first place. Was I sent there for this Lightbody Activation, whatever it was? And if so, did this mean that one of the things crop formations were created for was to make an inter-dimensional portal so our ancestors could come through to this time to work with us when we so need it? Was the formation "small and insignificant" because only certain people were invited there? I was told later that there was almost always a crop formation in that particular field each year. It was a small field. But it was near a prominent landmark: the barrow at West Kennett.

I puzzled over this as I walked on up the hill to enter the ancient burial chamber. I took a few photos as you see, both the entrance and some of the lovely stones inside of which the 5,000 year old walls are made. I also took the camera of a couple with a new baby and photographed them with their own camera inside the barrow. It turned out well. I really enjoyed her smile as she looked at the sweet photo of the three of them.

I hiked back to Avebury and arrived at the bus stop in plenty of time, riding back to Swindon in the upstairs of this doubledecker bus just over the driver's side of the bus. It gave me a good feel for what it would be like to drive on the left, and I began to believe that I might be able to do that one day--after I got over the nervousness about the rounders. I arrived back at the Swindon bus station, and took a cab to Lydiard House for my last night there.

My first Crop Circle - August 5, 2011

2011-08-26T14:14:00.009-05:00

If you click on the images, you can see them larger.

The next day I managed to arrange for Laura, the daughter of one of the ladies who worked in the kitchen at Lydiard House, to drive me to the Silent Circle Cafe where we were told about the microlite center. Laura drove me there and dropped me off. I reserved a thirty minute ride over the crop circles to take photos. I had to wait my turn, of course, and while so doing I began talking to a man from Norway, Egil, a musician who came each year to take photos and videos which he made into CDs narrated in Norwegian with his music in the background. It was a lucrative venture, it would seem, because he was most anxious to get up in the air when the clouds were not in the way. He and I ended up going into the air at the same time, and he filmed the aircraft I was in for advertising for the Flight Deck microlite center. I think they might have been doing a trade.

So indeed, after having them take off the door of this little two-person craft, I was airborne in something with an engine the size of a lawnmower. It only carried two people at a time, one being the pilot. They were quite kind in that they loaned me a "jumper" which we would call a sweatshirt--to keep me warm with the door off. I was also told the big stick between my legs was there so I could take over and drive if I wanted to, but I was too busy taking photos to do that. I thought having the door off was brazen enough for my first time up. I had said a "Most Benevolent Outcome" request for having a lot of fun, and I did.

I came back with photos of quite a few crop formations, some were too insignificant to photograph, a choice I would later regret. I hung around a while afterward, and talked to a couple who offered to drive me to walk around in a crop circle after they had their chance to fly in the microlites. There were plenty of people to talk to, and I spent part of my time making sandwiches for the shop, since their person who normally did that was absent that day. I had nothing better to do, so why not pitch in?

I signed my name, phone number and email address on their big guest book, too.

Later we drove to "The Universe" and walked around in it. It was lovely! But I did not feel any strange energy, I wonder if it was because the man who drove me out there was talking the whole time. He was an engineer and he had a lot of theories. He and his wife had been seeing crop formations yearly for over a decade. I did lie down for a few minutes alone. Still, no energy that I could feel. Was it me or was it the formation? It was so huge, I just do not see how it could be man-made. It seemed to be the size of a football field or larger, even. Hard to tell without a tape measure, actually.

Photos above are of me and some closer details of the formation as seen from the ground.

Also, there was a French or perhaps Belgian man in the formation later on and he was struggling with a camera on a hugely long pole which he was using to photograph the formation from the ground, but at an extremely high angle--about 30 feet up.

Then we drove back to the Silent Circle Cafe, where I got myself a snack and tried to find a T-shirt I liked, but all the good ones were sold out. They closed up about thrity minutes early, and I was there alone waiting for Laura. A very interesting man--with what sounded like a slight German accent showed up and we talked crop circles for a while before Laura came and drove me home. Poor guy had just missed the cafe being open and had missed the microlite center being open, too. I guess he got off to a late start that day.

I had dinner at the Lydiard House and turned in early, hoping for another results and fun fulled day the following day.

The First Day - August 4, 2011

2011-08-23T14:11:00.005-05:00

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I flew all night long, and managed to sleep probably five hours, which was really enough. When I landed and picked up my bags, the line was quite long. We must have waited at least an hour to have our passports checked, yet I was stunned to see how casual customs actually was. They asked if I had anything to declare, which I did not. I just went right through after they stamped my passport. No one looked into my bags at all.

I walked outside the terminal and waited a couple of hours to get a bus to Swindon, having decided that driving a car on the left for the first time out in the countryside would be preferable to attempting it on the freeway. I caught the bus, and then watched the driver as he navigated on the left. It did not look hard, and then I saw the "rounders." These intersections of circles with four to six options of where to get off were quite intimidating. When I see them in Houston, which is rare, I avoid them totally. So I decided to find some other way to get where I wanted to go. After we arrived in Swindon, I walked a couple of blocks to a restaurant and ate a typical English breakfast of potatoes, eggs, mushrooms, grilled tomatoes and bacon. I asked where the tourist center was, and was told it was about five blocks away.

Still wearing the clothes I had put on the morning before in Houston, which consisted of a flimsy pale green skirt, black knit blouse and gold sandals, I trudged uphill to the public library, where the tourist information center was, pulling my large wheeled bag balancing on top of that my backpack and laptop. I carried no purse; my passport and cash were in a small, unflattering flat container which hung around my neck for safety. It began to rain a very cold rain, and I pulled out my umbrella. The shiny gold sandals got unimaginably slippery in the rain, and I was going uphill. I began to have trouble keeping them on my feet. A woman with shaggy hair and several missing front teeth walking near me turned to me and grinning said, "You shouldn't ought to have put that on this morning!" I just looked at her saying nothing; I did not tell her I had put all that on the morning before, in Texas, where the weather was quite different.

As soon as I got to the information center it became clear that the service was primarily for booking trips. And it was in the public library! The lady at the desk kindly called a cab to take me to Lydiard House. The cab came quickly, and the driver began telling me how he manages to remember which way to swerve in an emergency while driving on the left. It seems he was from Austria where they drive on the right like we do. He said the key was in the location of the mirror. If you look into your rear view mirror, and it is not there, you are thinking on the wrong side of the road. Driving on the right, the mirror is on your right; driving on the left, the mirror is on your left. I thought that was a good clue. Still, the rounders were just too much. How would I know which exit to take? I was fairly sure I would get quite lost, or crash into someone. Who would have thought I would be such a chicken?

Lydiard House was rather out in the country, not actually in Swindon, a town which turned out to be fairly sizable compared to places like Avebury or Marlborough. And Lydiard House was nice. The rooms were cleanly comfortable, and the plumbing strange and different than anything I have ever seen anywhere else, but I was able to figure out how to get the hot and cold water adjusted after a while. The price was quite reasonable. It was filled with single men eating alone, the ladies at the front desk told me they were businessmen who came through on a regular basis for their work.

Lydiard House Conference Center was on over 300 acres of land with a lake and formal gardens. It was elegant. My room was just above the front door, too, so I could look out and see people arriving if I wished. There was no air conditioning; it was unnecessary. The open window kept things cool enough. I talked to the ladies at the front desk after I put my bags away, about if there were anyone with a teenaged son or daughter who might like to drive me out to Avebury, where the crop formations are. One lady who worked in the kitchen did have a daughter, it turned out, who was a student interested in making extra cash. She drove me out to the crop circle vicinity and dropped me off the next day, not interested in driving me from crop circle to crop circle -- even though she would have made more money. I figured I would work something out. My instructions from the Guides had been to be flexible. So I decided to do just that.

I spent the remainder of that first day resting or trying to get my computer to work with their wifi, which as it turned out, usually only worked on one spot in the overhang at the front door. So I was not destined to spend a lot of time on the computer. In fact, I never was able to figure out how to get wifi to work on my computer. Silly of me not to figure that out beforehand, of course. But I did get to check my email on one of their computers, so that was good. And actually, if I had been blogging the whole time I was on vacation, I would not have had much of a vacation. I quickly decided I was there to experience. Not to write about experiencing. Writing could wait, and so it did.

I also went for long walks in the woods. It was truly gorgeous. I recognized many of the plants, and some of them I saw growing wild for the first time in my life. Clematis I had only ever seen in nurseries, or during the cold months. To my amazement, here it was growing wild, blooming on the ground under the massive trees. It was so cool and damp and lush I fully expected to see fairies peeking out among the ferns or at the bases of trees. Down in the clusters of trees along the paths it seemed unusually dark, in a beautiful and mysterious way. I walked under one tree whose lowest branches were all above my head, and peered up to see green plums, not yet ripe, hanging from every limb. Blackberries grew everywhere.

There was a pasture with horses. As I walked toward it I saw about seven horses, with spots on their backs, neatly lined up along the fence, evenly spaced as though they were in a line to be admitted somewhere. All were facing the same direction. It seemed odd.

There was a stage in the back of the house, and they were having Shakespeare that night and the next. Tickets were already sold out. That was okay, though, as I am not all that wild about Shakespeare anyway. I saw people arriving with their blankets and coolers in groups of two to five or six. It did look like fun sitting on the grass with friends and family.

I slept well that night. Jet lag did not seem to be an issue at all.

Day of Departure

2011-08-03T07:29:00.004-05:00

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This is it. I am leaving for London today. My good friend Terry will be driving me to the airport and house-sitting. She loves plants, so I know they will be alive when I return. Big relief. Also my pet baby lizard whom I discovered in the bathtub and now lives in the living room fern (and eats the fruit flies and gnats) will be happy. Terry is not afraid of wild animals!

My flight leaves at 3:45 pm, so I will need to be there by 2:00 pm to check bags; international flights require more lead time. Mercury is now officially retrograde, so I want to leave in plenty of time. I have ear plugs, benadryl (for sleep), and eye covers. I am hoping not to need a book to read since I plan to sleep most of the time, so as to avoid jet lag as much as possible.

I will be staying near Swindon, Wiltshire, UK at the Lydiard House, ancestral home to the Viscounts Bolingbroke. They had a great rate and were not booked up when I made my last-minute decision as to where to stay. August is a time when everyone is on holiday, and I suspect that there were rooms only because it is so huge. It is a five minute walk from the Swindon railway station. I will rent a car in Swindon and then make my forays out from there. (And YES! Driving on the left side of the road.)

I am hoping for a crop formation near the Lydiard House! There is an enormous park surrounding it, as well as lots of farmland nearby. We'll see what happens. I have had the phrase "West Kennett, Long Barrow" repeating over and over in my head. Guess I will pop over there too, and see what that is all about, wherever that is.

I am planning to go to Glastonbury and see The Tor and the Chalice Well. Avebury will be graced by my presence as well. I want to see the standing stones. I am officially getting excited!

The Avebury Stone Circle - old drawing.

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Bought the Ticket

2011-07-27T10:02:00.000-05:00

Well, there is no backing out. I bought the ticket today. GASP! I really AM doing this! I am being told by my Guides and in readings that I am go go with the flow and allow the trip to unfold day by day.

Looks like the first day I am there, I will be meeting Caroline Nettle in Avebury. We are going to see if we can find some crop formations that have not yet been cut down by harvesting. You rather have to catch them just after they are created, and one can only go into the field if the farmer has previously given permission. I have read crop circle etiquette many times over the years, and must say that it is just the same etiquette that everyone shows farmers in Texas as well. If you are in a field of grain, walk on the tram lines and do not stomp on the plants so they cannot be harvested (DUH!) Do not go into a field if the farmer says not to do so (it is private property, after all). That sort of obvious thing. If they put out a donation box by the entrance to the field, put money in it.

Of course, that does not happen in Texas. There is no good reason to enter anyone's field unless you are a farm worker around here. But I am hoping that changes! I am hoping for crop formations in Texas! Wouldn't that be something?!

Crop Formations in England, Pyramids in Bosnia

2011-07-25T10:34:00.001-05:00

The above is a July 2011 crop formation in England!

In just about ten days I will be taking off for one of the most exciting journeys of my life. I am going alone, too. I will fly to London, England, and then on west to the countryside where the crop formations occur each summer in the fields of grain. Some have been proven man-made, and some are of "other" origin, utilizing technology which human beings at this time do not possess. Many scientists and mathematicians have spent countless hours studying the phenomenon, and still do not know where the "authentic" formations come from. They are often teaching us complicated maths which humanity did not previously know.

What's more, the authentic formations respond to human consciousness. If a group, or sometimes an individual, meditates on seeing a formation that speaks to them, often the formation comes in the next day or two. For example, a group of Japanese tourists meditated upon getting a formation acknowledging their presence at the scene, and one that looked like origami showed up the next day.

I have been interested in this phenomenon and sending out newsletter emails about them for 13+ years, and finally am going to England to hopefully see them. I also plan to see Glastonbury and the Tor.

After a few days there I will be heading south to visit the newly discovered pyramids in Europe, located in Visoko, Bosnia. So keep checking back. I will get onto the internet when I can and post photos, videos and words as I go along this sacred journey. My Guides are telling me to hang loose and watch the trip unfold, rather than plan it in great detail. So I am going to take a deep breath and hang on for the ride, trusting my Guides to know what comes next.

Last Day - Mt. Shasta, July 2010

2010-09-13T07:55:00.004-05:00

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My last day I woke having been on the inner planes with Adam A. I later learned, when I read the book on Telos, that Adama is the name of the High Priest of the Telosians.

I awoke, ate my breakfast, went down the mountain to the KOA campground for a shower, and then back up the mountain to read in the camp chair near my tent at Bunny Flats. A few more hours soaking up that energy was just perfect. I began reading the book on Telos, and was very surprised at how it "sync-ed up" with what I had experienced in the dreamtime the night before. Adama even looked the same.

I spoke with Bob a bit more, and then I decided to pack up around 11 am. I broke camp and then drove down the mountain to look around the shop with all the Tibetan bowls. I asked my guides where to spend the night the last night there, and I was told to go up to Panther Meadows. I seriously considered doing that, but got a little nervous about driving all the way from the top of Mt. Shasta to the Sacramento airport in the short time I would have the next morning. I was afraid I might miss the flight. I regret that now. I wish I had spent the night at Panther Meadows after reading more of the book on Telos, and after finding and reading parts of the book Bob recommended, "Unveiled Mysteries" after I got home.

I packed up the car and drove down to the town, then went looking for Kwan Yin's retreat, which was a waterfall Bob had told me about. I never found it; I guess I was not supposed to. That took several hours. I ate lunch, and then I called Terry and asked if she were in her campsite, as I needed to return a blanket and camp chair to her. She was in Redding getting Bee-bee put to sleep when I reached her. I decided to drive to her campsite anyway and drop the things off. That took another hour or so.

Finally, I drove to Stewart Mineral Springs to spend the night. It was Monday. They had a strange rule that during the week, there was a minimum two night stay, and they did not have air-conditioning. I was finished with all the sweating, and did not want to pay for two nights, so I decided spending the night at SMS was not the thing to do. So I hit the road, so to speak, and drove toward Sacramento. I got about halfway there and found a fairly decent hotel near the Interstate with a great, low rate. It was within walking distance of a restaurant that looked all right. So I checked in and began unpacking and repacking. I tossed a lot of things. Somehow all my stuff would not fit into my bag! I got rid of some clothes because I have lost weight recently, and by the time it gets cold enough to wear in Houston what I had brought for the nighttime at Mt. Shasta I will have lost more weight, and those clothes will not fit. I later left the styrofoam ice chest and what food that was left in the car at the airport. I took a nap and then had a light supper from the ice chest, watched some television, and went to sleep early.

Adama came to me again for more teaching, I woke occasionally and was aware of this, but what transpired in those lessons I do not recall. I wonder if they would have been different if I were in Panther Meadows?

I woke the next morning and walked over for breakfast at the nearby restaurant. The food was indeed fairly good. Then I set off for Sacramento. I had more than enough time to get there, so I stopped in some remote village in rural California, and had another cup of coffee, got gas, and then went to the local Walmart--just to kill time. I sat for a while out in the parking lot where the air was clean--rather than hanging out in the airport later. In the Walmart I found a loose T-shirt style of tunic which as it turns out I love. I wish I had bought more than one--in another color. It is so amazing where we find items we really like sometimes!

I drove the rest of the way to Sacramento and stopped at a gas station to fill the tank before turning in the rental. I sat outside for a half an hour or so drinking the last of the water from the headwaters of the Sacramento River and talking on the cell phone to a friend--just to keep from hanging out in the airport.

Finally I drove on in to the rental car return, rode the shuttle to the airport and checked my bags. The return trip was uneventful except for the layover in Denver. If you ever find yourself in the Denver airport go to their gift shop. It is amazing. They actually have reasonably priced artists hand-crafted pottery, milagros, jewelry, purses and so on. I was mesmerized, and actually bought a couple of things, which I almost never do in airport gift shops. The return flight was uneventful.

I flew home, picked up my car, and drove to the house. Trip over. But seeing into the fifth dimension was definitely NOT over. It had just begun.

Mt. Shasta - Night of the Full Moon - July 2010

2010-08-31T12:22:00.010-05:00

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Scroll down to see the earlier posts about this trip.

As I lay down to sleep, I could hear sounds coming from more than one group which I had observed setting up to hold ceremony at the mountain on this particular full moon. There were rituals going on, chanting, singing, playing instruments. None of it was very loud, all of it seemed to synchronize in an unexpected way. One set of instruments I had never heard before. The sound was unusual, like a cross between chimes and drums. In a different direction, I could hear a separate group comprised only of women - singing songs I had never heard before. I thought how delightful it was to be in a sacred space like this where people gather to celebrate the full moon as our ancestors had done for thousands upon thousands of years. I wished it were like that everywhere again.

I checked with my guidance as to whether I was supposed to join any of these groups, and I was not. At the time I checked I was sitting at the campfire before bedtime. The sun was still up, and I was staring off into space, looking at the ground, which was a deep, soft, solid field of a brownish color - comprised of fine bits of pine bark. As I did this, I began to see, with my eyes open, dozens of rapidly moving white wisps, almost like wisps of smoke, but more like white eels, fluidly swimming around in the air. Immediately, I looked upwind to see if there were a fire, but there was none. I could not smell smoke, either. So I allowed my eyes to go unfocused again staring at the ground, and after a few seconds, I began to see the swimming white wisps again. I wondered mentally what they might be, and I heard the words, "White Dragons." I then realized that I was seeing into the fifth dimension! Yes indeed, the energy here was special. I watched the dragons until my eyes got tired of staying open, because each time I blinked, they would go away for five to ten seconds.

The wind was blowing softly up toward the direction of Mt. Shasta at that time. Before that, it had been coming down from the mountain. Finally, after it started to get dark, I went to bed. I had trouble going to sleep, but finally managed to do so. I was not excited, as one might expect, but just open and allowing about what might happen that night in the dreamtime. After I had been asleep a couple of hours, I awoke to the sound of people talking and the smell of a campfire. I was directly downwind of someone's fire. The ceremonies were over, and a group of people lit a fire and sat down to talk. They were probably fifty yards away, maybe more, but I could hear every word clearly, as though they were much closer. They had no idea how far their voices carried. I covered my head with the blanket I had brought, and surprisingly, that filtered out the smell of the smoke. Eventually I got back to sleep.

When went into the dreamtime, I was met by the man I had seen in the meditation by the lake earlier that day. He said his name was Adam A. He was my teacher for that night and the next. Now, I cannot recall everything I saw or learned, but one thing does stand out. He taught me by showing me that the human heart is not at all what we think it is. It is a brain. He had a male volunteer who was the example for me. Adam A. lifted the man's heart up out of his body. He did not touch the heart, he just directed it to float up and out, and it did. It did not come all the way out, it just came out all except for the bottom bit, which had a smooth root coming out of it anchoring it inside the body. As my teacher floated the heart out, I could easily see that it actually looked like a brain. Adam A. said that the heart IS a brain, and that we were intended to think with it. "Think with your heart; act with your brain," he said. That meant make heart-based decisions and execute the decisions with the brain's tools. The man's heart was returned to its rightful position, and he got up off the table. Then it was my turn to lie down. I was simultaneously on the table and standing to the side with the teacher. He then pulled my heart out for me to see. It was lopsided, one side more developed than the other. He explained to me why that was, and told me what to do to fill out the other side. (It had to do with too much work and not enough fun.) He also told me, "to run around like that is dangerous." He meant it was dangerous for me. (So I have been working on that since my return.)

What else happened that night during the lessons I cannot remember clearly at this time, although I know that there was more. The instruction lasted all night.

The next morning I awoke and lay in the tent for a while, remembering as much as I could from the dreamtime class.

I built a fire, made my green tea, and had my breakfast. I lounged there enjoying the energies of this sacred mountain for a couple of hours, and then drove down the mountain to the KOA campground for my shower. This was my final day in the Mt. Shasta area. What would I do with it?

Mt. Shasta - July 2010

2010-08-26T06:33:00.003-05:00

Scroll down to see the earlier posts about this trip.

When I went into town to take a look at the books Bob had recommended, the store I wanted to enter was not yet open. It was a Sunday, and it did not open until noon. I went across the street to a coffee shop and bookstore, got a cup of hot tea, and perused their wares. At one point I was standing looking at a group of books, and noticed an odd-looking picture of St. Germain. As I was looking at it I realized that there was a man standing next to me rather close into my space, and he was facing me. It did not feel uncomfortable, but was unusual. Normally I do not like strangers to stand that close to me. I became aware that he was wearing a long dress and an odd hat, and wondered if he were a priest. I turned to look at him and no one was there. I blinked a couple of times, had a puzzled look on my face, and then looked back at the picture of St. Germain. His face morphed into a slight smile for a moment, and then back to his usual relaxed expression. That was when I realized the figure standing next to me had been St. Germain. Why could I all of a sudden see such things with greater clarity? It felt like I was in a light trance --spacey.

I found one of the books Bob recommended, but not the others. I found one he did not recommend, one that kept calling to me. The book I got interested in was one I actually bought for one of my sons called, "Getting Stoned with Savages." It was about kava-kava ceremonies on Fiji and Vanuatu, which my son had also experienced on a backpacking adventure taken during his college years. The kava you buy at Whole Foods is pretty mild compared to the kava they use on the Pacific Islands. That stuff is stronger and has been chewed up and spit into a bowl by pre-pubescent males. Of course, the saliva pre-digests it somewhat. Seriously. The stuff at Whole Foods is not pre-chewed, but dried and in capsules. The book was a travel book, actually. I had never heard of the author before, and was shocked at how good a writer he was. I read the other book, the one about Telos, the Lemurian inter-dimensional city located inside Mt. Shasta, a couple of days later.

I spent the rest of the day looking around the area, shopping for a while in the town,going to the visitor center for maps, driving out to locate the lake, and then headed back up the mountain. Upon arrival at my campsite, I walked around the valley, looking at the trees and the flowers for a while, watching the chipmunks scamper around, and then I read in the shade for several hours.

At one point while I was reading I heard a car frantically spinning its wheels and saw a huge cloud of dirt thrown up into the sky. Fortunately I was upwind of that. Someone had driven too far down the deeply rutted dirt road into the camping area and got their car trapped on top of one of the big ruts. The tires were furiously spinning but they were not getting anywhere, because the undercarriage was on top of a big rut and the tires could not touch earth sufficiently to get traction. The couple spent an hour or so trying one thing and another until finally one of them piled enough rocks and logs under the rear wheels to get over the hump. It took several tries before they realized they needed to take it slowly, and ease the car up out of its rut. Several times the driver got excited and gunned it, throwing the rocks and twigs up into the air behind them. Her partner kept trying to calm her down. It was only when she took it slowly and calmly and eased over the supporting material that they managed to get out of their dilemma. I thought it was an interesting metaphor for life in that getting excited and scrambling is often not as effective as taking things slowly and deliberately, step by step, to extricate ourselves from a rut of one kind or another.

Around 6:00 that evening I drove down to the Sacramento Lake to execute my plan: meditation during the full moon at a mountain lake. The full moon was exact at 6:30 pm, so even though there was still plenty of light, I meditated anyway. I found a spot among the eucalyptus trees on the water's edge and sat down to meditate. I was there maybe fifteen or twenty minutes; it was hot, and I was dripping with sweat. Sweat is good, mind you, it releases toxins, but enough is enough. I had been sweating a lot--especially that first couple of days at Terry's low altitude campsite. My fifteen minute meditation at the lake was very interesting, though. In it I was immediately met by a man from inside Mt. Shasta and taken inside where I saw a gorgeous, beautifully laid out city. I was taken to a temple and told that I would be brought there again that night for instruction. I asked him if he thought a short meditation at this time was sufficient. He said it was quite enough, and that he would see me again later that evening. I finished my meditation and hiked back to the car, driving back up the mountain to my campsite.

I spoke with Bob for a few more minutes, and then went back to my reading. After I tired of reading, I ate my dinner of organic cheese and pears and glistening, pure water collected earlier that morning from the source of the Sacramento River. It was collected in a large glass bottle Bob had loaned to me earlier in the day. The air was so crisp and scented with Ponderosa pine needles which were all over the ground, and crushed, releasing their fragrance, with each step I took. The sky was clear, and the sight of the sacred, snow-capped mountain behind my tent gave me such deep pleasure and contentment, tears slowly ran down my face.

A couple of hours later, I bedded down for the night, and that was when things got really interesting.

Day Three - Mt. Shasta - July 2010

2010-08-18T13:16:00.012-05:00

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So I spent the third night of my trip at Bunny Flat, as described earlier. I went to bed before dark and slept for a total of at least twelve hours. It was the night before the full moon, and after a few hours, the light from the moon began to flood into my tent from my left side. I woke up at one point and just opened the tent flap so that I could look at it. The moon was so soft yet bright, and there were absolutely no city lights anywhere around to diminish its glory. I just lay there and allowed the moonlight to bathe me in its glowing sweetness. I pulled up my T-shirt so so that the creamy white soft light could bathe my abdomen. Somewhere deep inside me I know that rays of light from natural sources carry healing frequencies. It was really cold, in the lower fifties at night, but I was prepared for it, so the cold did not bother me, and I kept the door of the tent open for a while.

I had awakened in the middle of the night because I needed to go to the bathroom. Finally I did get up, and I was so groggy, I was stumbling around like someone seriously doped up on sleeping pills, but I supposed that it was just the "dope" of the energy at that sacred spot at the foot of Mt. Shasta affecting me, and maybe a touch of the high altitude. But I also flashed on having been far out in outer space right before I woke up.

I made it to the bathroom and back without falling on my face. Fortunately, I had a small maglite flash light with me which allowed me to see in the shadows. The ground was uneven, and where the moon shone directly on the earth, I could see where I was going. But where a tree created a shadow, inside that shadow it was black as anything I have ever seen. It seemed as if no light escaped at all. A person could hide in one of those shadows and you would never know until you tripped over them. I loved the contrast of it. There was a lovely, surreal quality about the soft, creamy light from the moon covering everything it touched and the matte, velvety darkness of the shadows.

The next morning when I awoke a sweet, orangy-pink light was just beginning to break over the edge of the hill to my left. The peak of Mt. Shasta was right behind my tent, and an alpine sloping valley flowed out beyond the door of the tent. I crawled outside and built a fire for warmth. I lit the primus stove I had brought with me to make my green tea. I'd bought the fuel in town the day before, since you cannot carry such a thing aboard an aircraft. I had a small steel camping pan with a folding handle and a tight little lid which I used for heating the water and for steeping the tea. I also had a small sieve, and a blue enameled tin cup with white flecks in the enamel. I used the blue cup for straining the tea into once it was ready. The little styrofoam ice chest with my half and half had some cheese, peanut butter, fruit, spring mix and sliced chicken for sandwiches in it as well. And so I had my usual green tea with half and half and stevia just like I always do in the morning at home. I had brought organic Dragon Well tea--always a good choice. I spread some peanut butter on a green apple for breakfast, and with great inner peace and a profound satisfaction, I watched the sun slowly come up. I could see the prana glistening in the early morning light, dancing around in the air like tiny golden threads. Breathing it in deeply, I spent about two hours lounging around the campfire. The air was crisp and pure, and I sat enjoying its scent, and playing with the campfire. As I sat there I began to remember what I had been seeing in the dream state before I woke up to go to the bathroom the night before. I was inside a cloud nebula in outer space, receiving some kind of energy transmission while i was merged with a cloud. I remember numerous colored lights, but mostly rose and gold--lots of gold light. I wondered if this were the "attunement" Metatron had mentioned in my meditation.

I decided it would be good to take some photos. So I did that, and then decided to ask a man of about my age whom I had noticed camping near me to take some photos of me in front of the tent with Mt. Shasta in the background.

I walked over to his camper which was a white Econoline van with large tinted side windows. The van had been converted into a small recreational vehicle. Everything was inside there, I later noticed. The man was just getting out of the front seat as I walked over. I asked him to take the shots, and he did so happily. He was quite friendly and kind. There was something quite familiar about him. He introduced himself as Bob.

Bob reported that he spends most of the summer at Bunny Flat or Panther Meadows, and the rest of the year at other sacred sites in the world. He said was there for the energy preparing for ascension. I asked if he thought that was what most of the campers were there for. He agreed they were, except that the rock climbers did not know they were there for that--for the most part. Bob is a teacher, and was excited to tell me all about the mountain and a couple of books I could read about experiences other people have had there, as well as some other places I could visit. We talked for a while before he broke out his dowsing rods.

We asked some questions, and he eventually decided to ask if I were been part of the life stream of Joan of Arc. He asked my permission first, of course. I cringed a little, since I have been accused of using too much of that intense energy in my approach to certain endeavors--EDINA, for one. So of course his rods said that yes, I was part of that life stream. He then said that was why I looked familiar, that he had been one of my Generals in that lifetime; he was Gilles de Rais. I did not know much about Joan of Arc, so I did not recognize the name. I looked it up after I got home. I was neither surprised nor happy to learn that I had been "part of the life-stream of Joan of Arc." I had not actually wanted that to be true. From what little I knew of her, it seemed that she was really pushy. I have always been accused of thinking I knew for sure what was right, and trying to push others into doing that. After I got home a lot more understanding of this lifetime began to energe. My name is Lois, which means "Warrior Maiden." I have never been fond of that. (And I assure you my parents were not educated well enough to know anything about Joan of Arc or what my names meant.) My middle name is Jeanette, which means "Little Jeanne." and Jeanne is the French spelling of Joan. In her home town she was actually called Jeanette. She was captured and turned over to the English to be killed by a noblemman named Philip. I was married to a man named Philip. The coincidences abound. I am not at all convinced that I was "Jeanne Dark" as it was pronounced. I can assure the reader that most definitely I am not happy about this possibility. As the weeks unfolded after my return home and my brief internet investigation of her life, I began thinking things like, well, gee, if it is true, no wonder I dislike the Catholic Church so much, those Kings of Betrayal! (sigh) - But back to Bob and my visit to Mt. Shasta...

Since he stayed there all summer, I asked Bob where he went to take a shower, since I was longing for one myself. There was no plumbing other than the regularly truck-drained toilets up on the mountain. He said he always drove down to his gym for a shower, but that there was a KOA campground at the bottom of the mountain where travelers could take a shower for $5.00, whether or not they were camping at the KOA. He gave excellent directions, and also told me where there was a lake from which I could see the mountain. I was all set; I could do my planned meditation at a mountain lake during the full moon!

After finishing my conversation with him, I drove my rental down the mountain, took a really long shower at the KOA, and then found the lake. It was utterly divine! The map was confusing, so I got lost on the way back. Eventually, though, I made it back into the town of Mt. Shasta, ate lunch, and went into a bookstore. And there something quite extraordinary happened.

Day Two - Stewart Mineral Springs - July 2010

2010-08-18T11:19:00.009-05:00

Scroll down to read the first post about this trip.
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The second day I was there, the day before I made my retreat to Bunny Flat to camp alone, Terry and I decided over breakfast to spend most of the day at the mineral baths. Terry cooked an elegant breakfast on her Coleman stove. We had bacon and eggs and fruit. It was good. I had my green tea and stevia with me, and she had half and half and the dishes. YUM. It was perfect! We took showers in the first coin-operated shower stalls I have ever seen, and then washed the dishes at the campground's washtubs outside the shower area. I washed and she dried and packed things away.

After that was all handled, we hopped into my rental and went to the baths at Stewart Mineral Springs. We were pleased to note that it was "two for the price of one" day. We arrived at about 11 a.m. and had to wait an hour before they opened, For some crazy reason, the restaurant and the smoothie shop were both closed that day. The only food to be had was potato chips or cookies in the gift shop. There was the local mineral water to drink, though, and cute little paper cups by the water dispenser.

As we waited for the baths to open Terry wandered off somewhere, and a naked man who had been sunning at the far end of the deck around the corner, came over to talk to me. My face was about level with his lower abdomen. He stood a bit too close for me, but I said nothing. I think maybe it was his first time to be naked in public. He made very boring small talk until I excused myself and hid in the ladies room for a time. When I came back he was gone briefly, but soon returned and started his small talk again. Finally I closed my eyes and leaned back, saying I was going to take a nap. He finally left, calling after me something like, "Have a nice day and don't give up that accent." See what I mean?

Terry showed up later and sat across the corner of the deck from me and he came back. I smiled at her, raised my eyebrows a bit, and went inside. I figured it was her turn to deal with him. She followed me inside after a few minutes, and the guy gave up, put on some clothes and walked back to his campsite. We could see the dust his sandals kicked up all the way over the hill. Terry figured he was recently divorced and longing to connect--although a bit clumsy. She was probably right.

We did the bath rounds and dipped in the pool. The pool was a part of the river, and created by the owners using an enormous curving stack of rocks reinforced by a large pond liner. The water went over the top of the rocks and made a lovely trickling waterfall sound as it fell below. The water was about 54 degrees that day, so we did not stay in for long. After we did several rounds of the mineral baths and hot sauna followed by the dip in the spring, we laid out in the sun for a while. I actually got some sun on my body; many parts of me were quite red the next day.

When we finally left it was around 3:00 pm I was so hungry I was dizzy. The chips from the gift shop did not help much. As soon as Terry got finished with her shower we drove to a restaurant over in the nearest town, Weed, and ordered from the "down-home cookin'" menu. Much to my relief we were served fairly quickly. Afterward we went to Roy's, the local grocery store, and stocked up. Among other things, I got some more Bing cherries; I have been having a serious Bing cherry summer--I'm eating them all the time. We had a pretty good day, and then we went back to the campground to find the note on Terry's car about the dog barking all day. Terry went to the ranger station and spoke with them about it, smoothing out the ruffled feathers.

We sat around in the camp chairs, built a fire, and talked about the events of the day. I listened while Terry petted the dogs and talked about the details of the gastro-intestinal problems of the one dying dog, Bee-bee. I kept thinking, "Once upon a time she was someone's hunting dog, running free in the woods. What an ignominious end. Poor old thing."

That night I slept poorly again due to the nearby freeway's traffic noise, and when I woke it was clear that I had to go off on my own to better take care of myself. This was supposed to be a vacation, and I needed to be in a more peaceful location before it would feel like one.

Mt. Shasta Calls Me Again - July 2010

2010-08-14T15:45:00.012-05:00

I have taken other trips since my first trip to Shasta in 2008, mostly to a retreat center in western Arkansas in the midst of the crystal fields, which was interesting, but I have not yet written about those trips. After this second trip to Mt. Shasta, in July of 2010, I have felt the need to write again about my travels.

Robert Wilkinson, one of my favorite astrologers, told me earlier that at some point during this year I would be well-advised to meditate during a full moon at a mountain lake. Something truly profound would happen, he implied. And it did. I will tell you soon about this. But first, some background is necessary.

There are no mountain lakes within hundreds of miles of where I live, which is in Houston, Texas. I tried doing the full-moon meditation in Arkansas, but nothing happened; I guess rolling hills are just not mountains, and spring fed ponds are just not lakes. When a friend, Terry, said she was told to be at Mt. Shasta during the July 2010 full moon, I agreed to go and meet her there. I felt an urge that I was supposed to do that meditation Robert mentioned at Mt. Shasta. I was fairly certain there was a lake nearby. I knew there was at least a spring at Panther Meadows. July was months away, and I thought it would be easy to get the funds for a trip by then. The economy has been beyond slow the past two years, and I am self-employed, so it was a bit more difficult than I had anticipated to come up with the money. Because of that, as July drew near, I considered not going at all. However, I always check with guidance before doing or not doing something important. This had the definite feel of something important.

So I checked with Archangel Metatron during one of my meditations. (I hate saying that. It sounds so stupid. But that's what I did.) When I asked, Metatron said that I was definitely to go, because I would be getting an attunement at Mt. Shasta. Now, I knew immediately that because he used the word attunement it was not me making it up. (Sure, I have my doubts from time to time!) I would have used the word initiation. So I put the plane ticket on a credit card, packed up my camping gear and flew to Sacramento.

It is not possible to fly directly to Mt. Shasta, hence the trip to Sacramento. I looked for the Governator, but all I saw was his image on a T-shirt in the gift shop. I rented a tiny car at Sacramento. The sour-faced girl at the Alamo kiosk said that the car did not have this feature and that feature, and was that okay, or did I want to upgrade. I replied that the car had the one feature I really wanted; it was cheap. She broke out in laughter. That was good. I liked making a stranger laugh.

The four hour drive to Shasta is mostly dreary, as the land is flat, irrigated farmland, which means that everything besides the irrigated fields, that is everything on the side of the road, is all brown and dead. About three-quarters of the way there it becomes mountainous with lakes and the road begins to snake around in a lovely way. Everything becomes visually more commanding. I began to breathe deeper and uncoil inside.

When finally I arrived at the campsite near Mt. Shasta which Terry had rented, I was fairly tired. I had been travelling for twelve hours what with driving to the airport, flying time and the layover in Los Angeles. Terry and I hung out, talking while lounging in her camp chairs for a couple of hours, then quickly pitched my tent, and munched on some things I had brought along and on stuff she had in the cooler. I crawled into my tent exhausted at about eight o'clock, which was ten o'clock Houston time, and tried to sleep.

Terry is doing a spiritual journey for about six months, and at this point, was about halfway through. Camping at state and national parks, staying the occasional night with friends, she is moving wherever Spirit directs--from Maine to California and back, working on the energetic grid of the Earth. Terry had pre-paid for this campsite for two weeks, and unfortunately could not tell from the website that it was right along the edge of the Interstate 5 Highway. The campsites were created prior to the Interstate's existence,and people actually still camp there. It is odd, that particular park, Castle Crags, has four thousand acres. But in all the ensuing years since the Interstate was built, the State of California has never developed any campsites that are far enough away so the campers could not both hear and feel the vibration of the cars, trucks and eighteen-wheelers zooming loudly by just a couple of hundred feet away--all day and all through the night. Oh, and just as an extra fun bonus, there was also a freight train that came through quite nearby at least three times per night blowing its horn loudly again and again.

I am a light sleeper, and this was not my cup of tea. When I get away from my home in Houston, one of my priorities is that I want to get away from traffic noise for a change. Oh, add to the mix the fact that my tent was on a slope and the sleeping bag kept sliding downward toward my feet all night long. I was constantly waking and inching upward toward the head-end of the tent. I giggled when I realized that I was doing abdominal crunches all night! It was that or sleep in a fetal position at the foot of the tent. Finding a flat place to pitch a tent in the mountains can be tricky. We turned the tent sideways the next night, and I just slipped down to the side instead, and was caught by the tent. That wasn't so bad by comparison.

At this same time, Terry was going through the experience of having, "Bee-bee" her chocolate lab rescue-dog dying. "Rescue-dog" means someone was going to put her to sleep, and Terry said she would take care of her. This happened a year ago, and the dog has been expensively sick a lot since Terry got her. Taking care of the dog was taking a lot of Terry's time, attention, energy and conversation that week.

With all that going on, this was not a very relaxing place. Terry was not interested in moving because the site was paid for, so after spending a second night there, I woke up knowing I needed to take care of myself. I told her I needed to go somewhere quiet. So we packed my things and drove both our cars up to Mt. Shasta. (And I do mean up.) Terry is a good sport, she understood that I needed to do my own thing.

Bunny Flat was open, but Panther Meadows was not yet. A late winter meant that Bunny Flat, which is at about 7,000 feet above sea level, had only recently opened. We parked in the paved lot, hiked out into the camping area, and looked for a place to pitch my tent that was flat enough. It was very hot out in the daytime, really cold at night, and we were hiking through rough brush in the heat of the day. We walked around for about an hour, sweating, and found what looked like an acceptable spot. Terry and I then went back to get my rental car to get my gear just a little closer to the site I had chosen. When I pulled the car in to a spot to park, I noticed a place that was really closer to the entrance which had a soft, flat spot just about the size of my tent! We decided not to go to the more remote spot I had picked earlier. I was delighted to learn from one of the Rangers that Bunny Flat is free camping. There was a large restroom drained by the Rangers' truck daily located nearby. It was clean. I was set, even though there were no showers.

We pitched the tent and then went shopping for camp cooking gear for me, since I would not be using Terry's as originally planned, and an ice chest and food. That took most of the afternoon, unbelievably. Oh, we went to a restaurant for lunch, too. Terry had the two dogs in her car the whole time because when she had left them tied up in the shade at her campground the day before, her healthy dog, Chloe, had apparently barked for two hours and disturbed the other campers. There was a nasty note on Terry's windshield when we got back that day. So the second day she was toting the dogs around. Part of that time they were parked in the shade at Bunny Flat in her car while we looked for gear for me. Life is simpler without dogs for sure! I was exhausted just watching her struggle with them.

About four o'clock that day I said goodbye to Terry and then set up one of her camp chairs in the shade of a pine tree that was about sixty feet tall. I began reading a book I had brought with me, a bottle of spring water in hand. From time to time I moved the chair to remain in the shade, where it was about 75 degrees. This time was lovely, and it went on for a few hours. The energy was so luxurious. It was quiet save for the birds and the wind. The air smelled of pine trees and the alpine flowers that were blooming then, July being springtime that high up in the sky. I felt my Soul being fed the refined energies of this highly sacred space, and I not only relaxed, but felt deeply nurtured. My eyes watered, or maybe my body was crying for joy. I don't know; I just felt peace.

I read for a while, then began to stare off into space. My mind builds houses, or remodels existing ones, or adds onto them, just for fun, all the time. It is a strange habit I developed during my young adulthood, but I enjoy it immensely. So in my mind I built a sod house there on Bunny Flat out of the trunks of pine trees and hay bales, sealed it from moisture, then covered it with earth and sod. Buffalo grass soon grew all over the outside. Buffalo grass would do well there. It takes little water. My imaginary sod house had sky lights and a large great-room with long, bark-covered, exposed pine logs bent over as the weight bearing structural element; it was very organic-looking and stunning. I loved it.

I retired early that night, before the sun went down, and slept for about twelve hours, which is not customary for me. I usually sleep 6-7 hours at most.

Stewart Mineral Springs - Part Two -September 2008

2009-04-28T07:00:00.011-05:00

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To the left is a photo of a Hathor from an Egyptian temple.

One of the interesting things that happened at Stewart Springs had to do with the Hathors, one thing was a follow-up to something Tyb had said to me in the Grand Canyon.

One afternoon, after we had set up our sleeping places at the Grand Canyon and were waiting around for the crew to prepare the evening meal, Tyb and I were talking. It was rare to get a moment alone with him, since there seemed to be about four or five older women doing some embarrassingly intense courtship riutals aimed in his direction. But this time we talked for a few minutes and he made reference to another of the participants as having been a member of "our" family back in Native American times. He gave me a meaningful, probing, yet puzzled look, as if to ask if I remembered. I knew what he meant was that he and I had had a family. I had not recalled that one yet, and would not recall it until I got to Stewart Springs.

Lying in my tent one afternoon at Stewart Springs, relaxing by listening to the birds singing, and to the wind flowing through the trees, rustling the leaves, I thought about how in need of organizing things were at this seminar, in my opinion. I considered offering to help. In that instant, the memories of the lifetime as a Native American suddenly and rapidly flooded back in to my consciousness. Tyb had been a shaman, and I was his wife and assistant. We had some power struggles in that situation. Suddenly I understood why he brushed me off in this lifetime whenever I made reference to being a healer, or practicing shamanism.

Needless to say when I had this memory of the Native American lifetime with Tyb, I dropped all thoughts of offering to be his little helper in this lifetime. I have been there and done that. Nevertheless, I am still quite fond of him. I will probably go to more of his seminars, but with a focus on seeing who all is there, and to visit a sacred site with other Lightworkers. My expectations have changed.

The other interesting occurrence was when I stayed the extra day after the seminar happened. After I finished the bathing rounds and was sitting on the deck drinking a smoothie, wrapped in a white sheet. Tyb came and sat down at the table, as did two other women. One was from Australia, and had been at the seminar. The other was her friend, and had just arrived from Glastonbury, which was near her home, or so I recall. We were talking for a while and then came a pause in the conversation. I said, "Well, I have just discovered the Hathors." The two women laughed loudly, and I asked what was so funny. One of them replied that the Hathors had certainly not just discovered me. Upon further probing she replied, "Well, you ARE a Hathor." Tyb agreed. I said lightly that if I could be more than one thing, then okay, I would be a Hathor. Later I recalled that my teacher at the Esoteric Philosophy Center in Houston, back in the mid-eighties, William David, had briefly mentioned that I had had a series of "past lives" on Venus. Now that particular pronouncement made far more sense to me.

The Hathors, Masters of Sound, are an ascended race of beings who live on Venus at this time. Coming to Venus tens of thousands of years ago at the invitation of Sanat Kumara, through a portal at the star system of Sirius, they were teachers to the Ancient Egyptians. There are images of them still on certain temple walls in modern-day Egypt. The members of the inner circle of the Temples of the Hathors knew how to invoke them, and bring them into the temple in ancient times. A man by the name of Tom Kenyon has been channeling the Hathors for over twenty years. If you want to learn more about that: www.tomkenyon.com/

(The Hathors also are coming into the healing room now in the advanced stages of EDINA energy medicine to assist us with sound healing. EDINA is a form of energy medicine I am bringing to the planet at the request of a group of Starbeings from Sirius-B called The Ankenash. To learn more see the link to the EDINA BLOG at the left of this page.)

The last day I spent in the Stewart Springs/Mt. Shasta area was both lovely and relaxing. I had a leisurely drive back to Sacramento and caught my flight back to Houston without incident. Flying home to Houston, I thought about how many men I had met in this lifetime to whom I had been married in past lives. I think there have been about eight now. I laughed silently at how there was only one (so far, anyway) with whom I would do that again, and he is not someone I have ever identified in any of my writings. So just because we were married to someone in a past life does not mean we are supposed to be together in that way in this lifetime. Occasionally it is rather like bumping into someone we divorced in this lifetime; not necessarily pleasant. There may be karma to finish, but it may not have to do with love/romance at all. If the karma is finished, it may be the warmest, most loving experience imaginable.

My experiences at Mt. Shasta and Stewart Springs were heightened in the realm of the psychic/intuitive/multi-dimensional. This was due to the energies naturally occurring there, and as usual with sacred sites, the experiences were varied and unexpected. Flying home, I looked forward to seeing how they would unfold in my life.

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Stewart Mineral Springs/Mt. Shasta - September 2008

2009-04-26T15:41:00.012-05:00

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Guided very strongly to go to Tyb's event at Mt. Shasta and Stewart Mineral springs, just six weeks after the Grand Canyon trip, I went out and bought the first camping gear I have purchased in over twenty years, so I could camp out and save money. Camping gear is much fancier these days, and more affordable. The pads that go under the sleeping bag have really evolved. Camping out on the earth can actually be comfortable. So I got a tent, pad, bag, pocket rocket, primitive camping stove, and all the other trappings of roughing it in the out-of-doors. The trip was in late August, early September of 2008. Before leaving, I asked the Universe for a gorgeous hunk of a man to have a fling with, made my reservations, and let it go.

The day of my departure I flew in to Sacramento, rather than Reno, because flights to Reno were all booked up, due to "Burning Man" occurring at that time. I did not really know yet what "Burning Man" was, or I might have opted to do that instead. At the airport I picked up Irma, an EDINA initiate who had flown in from Maine for this event, and drove the four hours north to Stewart Mineral Springs in my rented car. Stewart Mineral Springs is about 6 miles past Mt. Shasta on Highway 5, the trip is mostly through rather uninteresting, flat farmlands until near the end, when it gets hilly, then mountainous.

Stewart Mineral Springs is of course, located in a very rural area. It is one of only two locations on Earth where a red spring comes out of the ground next to a white spring, at least these are the only locations that anyone seems to know about. Silica makes the white spring look white, and iron makes the red one look red. Here in the Shasta area it is believed that the red is the female energy (menstrual blood), the white male (seminal fluid). However in the other location, at Glastonbury, England, it is believed that the white is the female, the red male. In both places, the one which is assumed to be male is valued, and the one believed to be female is not. At Stewart Mineral Springs, the two springs flow together and merge into the river, despite an attempt to stop this with boulders and concrete retaining walls. In Glastonbury they are not allowed to merge together, successfully prevented from so doing by cement walls erected by the locals. In Glastonbury, the red is valued and the white ignored. The reverse is true at Stewart Springs. The baths in the bathhouse are drawn from the white, silicated waters, piped from the springs, then mixed with the river water. Silica is the base mineral of crystals, which is of note. So at Stewart, one is bathing in liquid crystals, in a manner of speaking. Ideally, according to Metatron via Tyb, one would finish after three days of baths in the white wters with one bath in the water to which the red springs waters have been added. The waters of neither spring would be used "straight" as they are much too intense chemically, and would damage the bather. They are diluted in the river water.

The process is that one soaks about 5 - 10 minutes in the silicated water, first pinning up your hair if it has color on it, and removing all silver jewelry (I found out the hard way - no one warned me...). Wearing my oxidized jewelry, I continued the process. Actually the jewelry was still pretty, exhibiting many odd colors, swirling turquoise, blues, greens and violet hues which I fascinatedly examined in great detail. After the silicated water tub soak, which stimulates the release of toxins, the wood-fired sauna was next. Usually I would stay in the sauna for about 15 minutes, and then down to the river to plunge into the icy waters, starting all over again until an hour and a half had passed. At that time of year, the river water was in the mid-fifties farenheit. I especially loved the cold plunge. Clothing was optional, except in the waiting area between the baths and river, where a towel or sheet wrapped around one sufficed. Most of us were nude in the river and many in the sauna, which was large enough for thirty people or so. I did the bathing rounds every day for four days straight. My skin was absolutely amazing after that! I probably released a lot of toxins, but was unaware of that. I had no noticeable symptoms, the toxins probably came out during the sweating in the sauna.

Afterward one could sit on the deck and soak up sun, or get a smoothie or wheat grass, a cappucino or veggie wrap or salad to eat...that kind of thing. The menu was limited, but delicious. And there was also an organic restaurant down the trail, across the bridge that spanned the river. At night the bridge was lit with fairy lights, and both day and night it was most charming.

Irma spent that first night in my tent with me, as we had planned. It turned out that the small tent was entirely too tight for two people who were not intimates. After that she stayed in the neighboring, roomier tee-pee with kind Helen, who was also attending the seminar. Getting up in the middle of the night to visit the toilet was interesting, the stars were stunning; they were even more were visible here than down in the bottom of the Grand Canyon! We had to walk over to the bright blue plastic porta-potty, without falling on our faces until we could get to the road, which required a little flashlight. The earth was sloping, very uneven and strewn with large rocks, or small boulders. Afterward, I would stop in the middle of the road and look up, groggy but soaking up the starlight. It was such a treat for me, given that only three or four stars are visible from my home near downtown Houston. The chance to see a sky deeply studded with stars is rare for me, and so I am in deep gratitude for seeing them when I have the opportunity.

Many mornings Irma and I would drive in to town. Town was Weed, California, (getting that T-shirt was tempting!) There we would get breakfast, or else eat protein bars, dried fruit or beef jerky at the tent. We had lots of great filtered river water from the bathhouse water dispenser to drink, and made it a point to fill our canteens each night before the bathhouse closed for the evening.

Later, after breakfast, we would hike up the dusty trail, white road dirt blowing everywhere, especially if a car went by, to the top of the hill. There, at the top of the hill near the enormous blue plastic covered sweat lodge, were the outdoor shower stalls, where we would get cleaned up. The hot water on my skin felt delicious after a night in the tent. The first day we made that hike, as we rounded the corner, standing outside the showers in nothing but a pair of jeans and long, black wet hair was the most gorgeous hunk of a man I have seen in a very long time. Jaws dropped, Irma and I both rather tripped over ourselves and moved along, not saying very much to him, except, did he know where we could get some towels. He later sat beside me in the seminar, arm around me, until I verbally pushed him away, not trusting my good fortune. That was really dumb of me. After all, he was just what I had asked for before leaving.

The seminar was interesting, especially when Dr. Mikel was talking. When we initially arrived there, we found that the meeting room had no air conditioning. The first three days we were there, it was over 100 degrees outside. I assume this did not happen often, or the facility would have had air conditioning installed at least in one window for such days. There was absolutely no water in the room to drink except what the participants brought themselves, and we were all sweating profusely. The floor kept being given over to people who had not been advertised to be part of the program. One person took up entirely too much time over the four days; we nicknamed him "Dolphin Boy". His dominating so much time got other people's hackles up far more than mine. Mostly he made me giggle. Needless to say, attendance at the seminar began to thin out quickly. I stayed through the entire thing, but most attendees did not. I suppose they got baths or went shopping in the town of Mt. Shasta, or hiked up the mountain to meditate.Still, it was lovely to be around all those people--and meet new like-minded souls.

I was pretty amused listening to Tyb talk to a small group of invited locals at the tearoom in a metaphysical bookstore weeks later, after we got back to Houston, about how upset he was with the Asian woman who was running things at Stewart Springs. She was overcharging him, arguing viciously with him, and not letting him have the sleeping room he wanted and had reserved in advance. I will admit she was a major, serious pain to us all. I told him I thought she might have a dark entity attachment, and that this was what was screwing with him, not the lady, and he agreed. Still he simply could not stop ranting about all the disagreeable things she had done to him. I do not know why I found that so entertaining, but I did. Maybe it was because I got confirmation that even though we can get really into advanced levels of spiritual work, we still have a personality. That means that I am not the only one. And that is quite a relief.

What occurred at Stewart Springs that was of the greatest value to me had to do with the place itself, which has amazing energy, and with the people I met.

There were a number of EDINA Initiates in attendance, and we got together to talk early one morning. That was delightful. Bruce was there, Avida was there, Terry Lee, Irma and I. This was the first time I had met Bruce and Irma in person; I had initiated them into EDINA at a distance. It was very good to see them. There were also some people from the Grand Canyon trip there as well; it was nice to be around them again. I found myself wishing Becky from the Grand Canyon were there, but she was working at "Burning Man."

At one point one day, I do not recall which day, when walking the path alone back to the seminar room from lunch I heard a voice out of the blue speak to me. It said, "You are not a great singer." I argued that I was pretty damn good at singing, and it answered, "You are not a great artist," I replied that I was a superb artist, what were they talking about? "You are not a great writer." "What??? I am just getting my feet wet with writing, don't do that!" Finally the voice said, "You are a great channel." Oh. Okay. Maybe so. Maybe so.

If one can channel clearly, one can write, make music and art, and so on with ease. The "collective unconscious" as Jung would phrase it is infinite; if one can tap effectively into that, one can even seem to be a "creative/artistic genius," seemingly with little effort. The very next day I went in to town to an internet cafe to check emails, and found that an article I had written channeling Archangel Gabriel was accepted for publication by "Sedona Journal of Emergence", which publishes channeled material. Was that just an interesting coincidence? Maybe.

One afternoon, after a group ceremony up higher on Mt. Shasta, after eating lunch, we went to hike down into Bunny Flats to the springs there, to have a different ceremony. The Park Rangers stopped us. Tyb did not know that groups over about seventeen or so people cannot go down there together any longer. This is being done now to protect the vegetation. We were seventy people. So we had the afternoon off to play. I went down in to Mt. Shasta and shopped, then back to the Springs to do a bathing round. It was lovely. A small group of people did actually go down there, to the springs at Bunny Flats, including a man who had come all the way from Mt. Cook in New Zealand to do a ceremony there.

The next to the last night I was there, the temperature outside changed. It became really quite cold. I had kept waking up because it was so very cold in the tent, even inside the sleeping bag and under my extra blanket. Avida was in a suite of small rooms by herself, so she offered to let me stay in one of the two rooms she had the following night. Turns out that my half of the rent cost the same as the camp site! What a deal. I had decided before coming to the seminar to remain one extra day beyond the seminar, and this was the extra night.

Avida and I had dinner at a lovely Italian restaurant in Mt. Shasta that evening, watched the sun set, then went back to the rooms. She left again to go to a meeting at a restaurant with members of the seminar group who were interested in possibly buying Stewart Springs and/or creating a vesica pisces symbol on a donated deck above the two springs, to honor the springs and their coming together.

Within a few days of that meeting, the locals stopped cold all this outsider-meddling with the Springs. Tiara Kumara, creatrix of the Children of the Sun website, was at the seminar, and at that meeting, and meeting her was a real treat for me. Tiara lives at Mt. Shasta, so the locals stopping the process so dramatically rather surprised me. Small towns can be strange like that. Everyone has a role and territory, and you had better not come in and step on their toes. I know this from living for thirteen years in Galveston, also a small town.

When Avida came back from the meeting that night I spent in her suite, I woke up. As I was drifting off to sleep again, something strange began to happen. Eyes closed, I began seeing a very complicated sacred geometrical shape inside my head and it was moving, spinning - shapes within shapes inside a sphere. It was comprised of bright, flashing, multicolored lights, and gave me an intense whole body orgasm that did not stop. I just fell asleep, or perhaps into a trance that lasted most of the night, while this continued. I have never had that particular experience before. The energy seemed to have come down the mountain from behind the room and entered me. I could tell it was a positive thing. I even asked Archangel Michael to protect me if it was not. He just laughed.

The next morning when I awoke I wondered, "What was that?" I heard a voice reply, "That was an anionic shift." I wrote it down. Later when I got home and googled that phrase, I discovered there really was such a thing being theorized about in physics, and it had to do with extra-dimensional shifts, or something. Interesting. How could I have made something like that up? I do not think I could.

Avida had a few days earlier mentioned a very strange energy in the same room I was in, and Bruce and others had tried clearing it, but apparently it did not leave easily. I am still not sure exactly what it was.

Grand Canyon: Part 13

2008-09-08T08:28:00.005-05:00

...

By way of follow up, I would like to report that I discovered that most Virgos were sleeping a lot in the month of July, 2008, and that Susan Miller had predicted this on her website: www.astrologyzone.com. So some of that exhaustion was due to planetary influences, some due to the energy shift in the Grand Canyon. It is impossible to tease the two apart. They were overlayed simultaneously, as things often are.

After I got home, I kept thinking about the giant moth, the size of the palm of my hand, that was hitting me in the forehead almost every evening as we all sat in our circle. When I first got home, I had looked up the symbolism of the moth. In Angelic High Magic the moth is a symbol of the Archangel Gabriel. So in late August I decided to channel Archangel Gabriel, just in the privacy of my own home, and record it and see what came out. It was very interesting. As I had already suspected, I am a conscious channel, meaning that I do not lose consciousness. I also have the sense that I am repeating what I hear, not that anyone is taking up temporary residence in my body. I submitted what I channeled to Sedona Journal of Emergence on August 24th, right before I left for a seminar with Tyb at Mt. Shasta. The publisher of Sedona Journal is considering publishing the channeling I did in their November issue. I discovered this at the end of the seminar when I went down into the town of Mt. Shasta to an internet cafe to check in for my flight home. I also checked my email at at that time.

Again, I was guided to attend this seminar with Tyb and Dr. Dave Mikel at Stewart Mineral Springs near Mt. Shasta, just as I had been guided to go to the Grand Canyon. I did not know what would happen there, but I went anyway. And quite a lot happened there. Quite a lot.

...

Grand Canyon: Part 12

2008-08-12T12:02:00.006-05:00

The morning of the last day was bittersweet. We milled around, saying things to each other which were often our fond observations about each other. We knew we would likely never all be together again in this lifetime. So it was important to say certain things. I was deeply touched by the astuteness and kindness of some of the others' observations about me. I had not known that anyone was looking, or noticing anything that I was doing. I also had certain kind words for others.

Josef was there for me when I needed help hiking or lifting something heavy. When I could not see Josef, Dick was profoundly there for me as well. Mark was there to stop the boat in the middle of a rapid (I thought at the time it was the end, but it was just a flat place in the middle of one of the worst rapids) to get me out of harm's way. Many others helped me when I needed help as well in various ways, Ken the Younger, Cecilia, Glynnis, Becky, Jackie, Kate, Carol, Scott, Tyb, Sigrid, Salome, Hannelie...the list goes on. Others thanked me for being there for them when they needed healing work.

We loaded up onto the rafts one last time, after taking lots and lots of photos of each other in various combinations. Not far downstream was the spot where we disembarked from the boats and waited for the helicopters to take us out of there, six at a time, depending upon our weight.

Yes, we stood there and told this old man who worked for the helicopter company our weight, out loud, and told the truth in front of everyone. Imagine that!! (Because you don't want to lie about your weight and make the helicopter crash, now do you?) We had the option of whispering it in his ear, but by then we were all feeling so close, that I really think everyone just blurted it out.

The old man decided who would sit where in the chopper, based upon weight, and told us where to sit. As the first helicopter left, with Tyb on it, a group of women decided that it might be fun to "moon" the chopper. Someone else actually photographed this, but I don't think I will post that particular photo! I believe it was the Dutch who were "behind" this particular event. Miriam and Chris. I did not that know it was going to happen in advance. So I just stood there and watched in amazement. Bwanaque was onthat helicopter, and said that the pilot was so shocked the chopper wobbled briefly in the air, and she both laughed and wished she had a camera, and wondered if she were going to die in the same instant!

I flew back on the last helicopter, or the second to the last, I am not sure. When we got to the Bar 10 Ranch, where the buses would pick us up to drive to the airstrip for the return flight to Las Vegas, we had the divine luxury of a shower and a clean towel for three dollars! It was worth way more, and my shower lasted a long, long time. I washed my hair with much pleasure. We ate lunch, bought souvenirs, and laid around on the grass talking, and waiting for our turn to board busses. We were there a few hours. Kate put my hair and Beckys into French Braids. I ate potato chips while she was doing that. It was pure heaven.

Finally we flew back to Las Vegas and caught another bus to our hotels. When I finally got to check into my room, I spent quite a while cleaning sand out of absolutely everything I had taken along, and repacking and rinsing out things.

That evening we met at the MGM Grand in their amazing "all you can eat" area. They set a table for all twenty-seven of us; Carol had had to leave early. The all men looked pretty much the same, but the women looked gorgeous, the difference being hair that was fixed, and make-up was applied. Men "have it made" in that way. They never look really awful.

We had great dinner, laughed a lot, and yet not being inside the Grand Canyon, it was different somehow.

I left pretty early, since I had a very early flight the next morning. I walked alone through a huge casino, something I thought I would never in my whole life do, back to my hotel, fell asleep, and took a taxi to the airport the next morning. That was about when the exhaustion hit.

As I was walking down the jetway to board the flight, carrying my huge drum as usual, some young guy asked me what kind of music I played. I was so tired that I just told him the truth. "I don't play music. I practice shamanism." There was a period of silence. Followed by his quietly muttering, "That's wierd. That is really, really wierd." I don't know if he thought an older white woman talking about shamanism was strange, or if he thought a shaman catching an early flight out of Las Vegas was strange. I was simply too tired to care.

I slept most of the way home on the flight, and also slept a lot over the next couple of weeks, just getting used to the new energy I brought home with me. Something was very different energetically. I would never be the same again. The energy in the Womb of Gaia changed me forever, or maybe it was additionally the activation of the Golden Sun Discs. Now that I am getting used to it, I realize that I am vibrating at a much higher frequency, and I am way, way more psychic. Maybe I will say more about that later. And maybe not.

..

Grand Canyon: Part 11

2008-08-05T13:38:00.009-05:00

DAY FIVE: LAVA FALLS

We took off from Havasu Rapids at 12:32 pm, went downstream a bit, and stopped for lunch at 12:45 pm. As always the crew prepared a delicious lunch for us. There were always potato chips and dill pickles, which is one of my favorite food combinations. Plus sandwiches and cookies and so on.

I had a long talk with Kathy at lunch that day about makeup, art and aesthetics. There had been a lot of discussion among the women for the entire trip about makeup, with even some women making tatements about wearing lipstick on the trip as being a very bad thing to do. (huh?) Anyway, as Kathy and I were talking, it became clear to me that a lot of women in the group thought that wearing makeup was like wearing a mask, and a sign of weakness. And certainly it can be that. But that is not the only attitude a woman might have toward makeup. I for one wear a little bit of makeup, certainly not on that trip, except for a bit of lipstick at night because it was creamier than the sunscreen lip balm I brought. But I do wear a slight bit of makeup at home, not because I need a mask, but because I am an artist. Makeup can be applied as an aesthetic consideration, not because one feels inferior, but because one wishes to create beauty.

Kathy and I also talked about painting, as she does a type of Japanese brush technique, and wanted to know what kind of art I do. I was not exactly sure what to say, I never seem to have have a proper "label" for my art. I do have a Masters of Fine Arts degree in painting and drawing, with minor concentrations in printmaking and photography, so my attitudes and beliefs around art are of course flavored by that education. We talked about artistic styles, and the idea of fitting artistically into the cultural mainstream versus doing your own thing, which is in my personal opinion more creative than fitting into any current paradigm of art. So I do my own thing.

Sometimes I might paint from a still life; flowers for example. But my real love is "channelling" art, which I formerly referred to as "contacting the collective unconscious" in my younger days. That was before I had ever heard of channelling. This art might end up being abstract, which is a way of expressing feelings directly onto paper or canvas. Or it might look like fantasy art, images that come from inner visions that I have. Anyway, Kathy and I had an interesting, fun conversation over lunch that day.

After lunch we were back on the river, and after a while Tyb assembled us into a huddle, both boats touching in the river. He talked about where we wanted to end up by the end of the day. We had two options. There was another rapid that was even more difficult than Hermit, which had been pretty traumatizing. It was called Lava Falls. He explained that we could do it now, or we could take it in the morning.

Water level was the main consideration to this decision. Each night water was let out from Hoover Dam, and water levels on the river would rise by sevral feet, pushing even more water through the rapids. Later in the day the rapids were actually easier to get through, when there was less water. So Tyb, after consulting with R.D., Leslie, Scott and Mark, our river guides, decided to let us vote whether we wanted to get through the Lava Falls Rapids that afternoon, instead of waiting until the next morning to go through as they had originally planned. He explained to us that the rapids would be much more difficult the following day. So we voted to do Lava Falls Rapids that afternoon.

VULCAN'S ANVIL

Before reaching the rapid, there was a fifty foot high lava plug in the river (see image above). It was actually the core of an ancient volcano sitting within the river, called Vulcan's Anvil. Both boats approached the rock and paused, and we heard the crew tell the rafting stories that surround incidents involving this ancient volcano's core. After the tales, we were told that we would have better luck within the rapid if all the women on the boat kissed the rock. I thought it was really silly, and had no intention of getting up and walking over there and kissing a rock, until I was the only woman who had not done so. Upon reflection, I decided that it might be a good idea not to "rock the boat" by sitting still. (I mean, crap, they said this was worse than Hermit Rapid, and look what happened to me in Hermit Rapid.) So I kissed the rock, you know, just in case.

We took off down the stream and then paused, studying the rapid. Vinaya had some Bach Flower Remedies' Rescue Remedy, and she marched up and down the boat squirting it under everyone's tongues. Twice. It was a good thing. I was freaking out thinking about taking this rapid, one of the few rapids about which we were told, "You do NOT want to fall out of the boat in this rapid."

So again, as I had before the Hermit Rapid in which I had survived staying on the boat hanging on by just one hand, I invoked the Archangel Michael saying, "Archangel Michael, help me, help me, help me." And then the entire group did what we had done before each and every rapid, we loudly TONED!!!

Why have I not mentioned this before? Search me. It was definitely one of the coolest, best parts of the trip which had a lot of very spectacular parts! As each boat went into each rapid, Tyb had taught us to tone together; singing to the water and the air and the river and The All That Is. We extemporaneously created these amazing, beautiful tones together. If we were the second boat, we could hear the raft before us toning beautifully before they headed into the churning waters. It was startling in its beauty. It was deeply touching and uplifting to the soul. And none of us ever really fell all the way off the boat, except Josef who was then picked up by the river and put back onto the boat in Hermit Falls. No one had to be airlifted out, even though we all had emergency helicopter evacuation insurance included in the price of the trip. So we toned as we headed into the most difficult of all the rapids, Lava Falls.

I made sure I was sitting on top of the metal boxes just behind the front of the raft. I had decided that this was the safest location. And it was pretty safe. We were bashed around, got really, really wet, and I almost fell off even the "safe" perch. But in the end, although I had bruises on the backs of both hands and fingers from hanging onto the ropes while the raft smashed us around violently in the rapids, I was still in one piece, and so was everyone else. The worst was over. We breathed a collective sigh of relief, and headed toward the camping area for our final night together. Hermit Rapid had been much worse from my point of view.

When we were almost there, we passed another Western River group, who dropped their pants and mooned us. I do not recall ever seeing them before, so I cannot imagine why they did that, but we all got a good laugh out of it, and talked about it again over dinner. Maybe it was something between the groups of guides. Anyway, it was pretty funny.

Before dinner that night Tyb channelled Archangel Metatron for us. Fortunately, I had a recording device with enough space left on it to record that channelling, but ufortunately, not the question and answer session afterward. I was glad I had listened to guidance about what to bring on the trip so that at least the channelling was recorded.

Dinner was amazing as usual, but dessert was simply shocking! They served flaming bananas over ice cream. I am not kidding. They fed us ice cream on the evening of the fifth day. (Allow me to remind you that it was well over 100 degrees Fahrenheit each day we werre there. As a matter of fact,when I arrived in Las Vegas on the 6th of July, it was 110 degrees Fahrenheit at 8:30 in the morning.) The crew had dry ice down inside one of those metal boxes we were sitting on all day, and managed to serve ice cream with flaming bananas for dessert on the fifth day out! Wearing tuxedo shsirts and bowties with their shorts, our guides really outdid themselves!!

After dinner I spoke with a couple of the river guides, and told them that I would remember this trip for the rest of my life. I was surprised and amazed when Mark, who has been taking groups down that river for 18 years, said he would remember this particular trip for the rest of his life, too. The guides had already told us that it was a real pleasure to work with us. And as I think about it, all those ceremonies with singing and druming honoring the four directions, the earth, sky, Creator, river, the Canyon, the Star Nations, etc., must have been really unusual for them. And Tyb's repeatedly honoring and acknowledging the guides as Sacred Guardians of the Grand Canyon; all that toning before entering the rapids, yes, it must have been a very unusual trip for even the most seasoned guide.

We gathered in a circle after dinner and drummed and sang and danced in a circle. We flopped into bed afterwards, totally exhausted, and spent our last night together under the stars.

...

Grand Canyon: Part 10

2008-08-03T14:24:00.004-05:00

One of the Falls on Havasu Creek

One of the things I did throughout the Canyon, was constantly, well at least several times per day, honor the Devic Kingdom. Particularly while on the water, I thanked the Undines over and over for this pure, pristine heavenly water. I always thanked them before a big rapid. The Undines are the elementals who created and sustain the water on Earth. They work hard to keep it clean so that it can provide life. There was a time when humans honored them and all the other elementals on a regular basis, and I try to do it all the time, or as often as I can remember to do it. I know it must be hard for them to work so hard on our behalf and be ignored by the vast majority of humanity.

The Sylphs are the devas of the air, who work constantly to purify our air, and to circulate it. The Salamanders are devas of fire, including the fire in the Sun, and the Gnomes are the elementals of the earth. I honored them all during this trip several times a day, and it was easy to remember to do so there, since the awareness of them was around me all the time. I was at every moment very much in tune with the Devic Kingdom while we were in the Grand Canyon.

I will also admit that this was a rough trip, and at times I wished it would be over so I could clean up, and sleep in a soft bed with air conditioning, and fix my hair. I am a Westernized human female being currently existing in the early 21st century, after all.

The evening of the fourth day we slept at the edge of the water, up high on a sandy bank facing the water. It was pleasantly cool. The bathing spot was really lovely, too. I picked up a very nice feather there at the bathing site, and put it onto cord at the inner edge of the brim of my hat for a while. I will tell you who had a very impressive feather in his hat, and that was Mark. We all envied that feather.

DAY FIVE

The next morning, the morning of the fifth day, we were off by 7:16 am. We really never felt rushed, though, because we had eaten breakfast and been up for hours by then. One thing about sleeping under the stars is that the sun just comes right up with no barrier between it and the sleeper. It was divine! We just awoke gradually and naturally because of the slow increase in the light.

One thing several of us on my boat noticed that day, and commented upon, was that many of the other boaters in smaller rafts did not wave back when we waved at them. We did not think that very polite, and wondered aloud why, especially the several of the older men, did not wave back at us. After I got back home it occurred to me that they were paddling, and might well have thought that people who do not paddle down the river had no business waving merrily at them as they passed them up with their little 35 horsepower outboard motor. Or then again, maybe they were just too exhausted from all that paddling to raise an arm to wave!

We made a quick "pit stop" just before Matkatamlba Rapid at 8:40 am, and then stopped right in the middle of a large rapid called Havasu Rapid at 10:00 am. It was really tricky, and we were even more impressed with the skills of the River Guides as they navigated this, docked, and managed to tie up the boats without incident. It did not look easy. I watched with fascination as R.D. drove while Lindsay tied up our boat. We stopped at that spot so we could hike up the side of the cliff, with its horizontal planes of rock, following the Havasu Creek upstream, and up through the Canyon. This was perhaps the most gorgeous of the hikes that I took. My foot was better that day, and for some reason it occurred to me to invoke the "angels of balance, harmony, grace and agility" that day. I pretty much glided over the rock, and only occasionally did I need help with some parts of the hike. We passed about three waterfalls and pools to stop finally at one of them.

That waterfall fell about 8 feet to a pool below which was about 22 feet across. Somehow the waterfall created a large, swirling vortex in the pool. The vortex moved in a clockwise fashion. If we got into the vortex it would carry us in a circle indefinitely. This was an amazing experience, being swirled gently around and around. We lined up for this and swirled around with sometimes as many as a dozen people swirling in the vortex together. Someone announced that he had been told earlier that we should enter the pools three times. He said that the rocks told him that. I retorted that the water had told me nine times, and so I just kept on going! Most of us could not stop at nine times though; it was just way to much fun!!

The water in these pools, which we could see even better from above while hiking in and out, was a visually stunning turquoise blue, and the canyon walls here were a rusty orange-brown color. The combination was like something out of a fairy tale. There were ferns and flowers everywhere. We were told that it is also possible to hike down into this canyon from above at the Havasu Indian Reservation at Supai Village. This is called the Havasu (or Havasupai) Creek, but for a creek is is very, very large. We were told that the pools and waterfalls just keep going up in a series, over and over until you get to the top of the Canyon. We were quite reluctant to leave this spot, but we had to carry on in order to reach our destination for that night.

...

Grand Canyon: Part 9

2008-08-01T08:05:00.004-05:00

Deer Creek Falls

Day four we stoped for lunch at 11: 22 and were back on the water by 12:33 pm, and just after that passed the river's narrowest point, which is 76 feet wide. At 12:56 pm we stopped at a place called Deer Creek Falls. Those who could manage the trek hiked up to a series of pools above, but with my smashed up foot, I stayed behind at the first waterfall, wich fell more than 100 feet to a pool below. There were delicate ferns again, near this waterfall, and the pool below had minerals similar to epsom salts. The water was a gorgeous turquoise. Tyb said if we sat in the mist, it could be very healing.

Tyb and the majority of the group hiked up river to a series of pools. I chose to remain at the first waterfall, which was simply breath-taking in its beauty. And so while many of the others were making what was described as a fairly difficult hike upstream, I fulfilled the lifelong dream of being in a pool at the base of a massive waterfall. There were several of us who chose to stay there. Much of the time I sat in the shade, feeling the mist on my face, when I was not doing that, I was sitting or wading up to my waist in the water. Getting too close to the point where the falls hit the pool was unadvisable, for as Mark the River Guide said, it would beat the "bleep" out of you. Water falling from 100 feet hits whatever is below with great force and power.

I spent a lot of the time there talking with Becky, who felt like an old friend from the past. Marilyn and Franz stayed at this pool, as did Dick, Bwanaque and Anariya. For about the last thirty minutes I lay down near the pool, feeling the mist on my body, and visualized the inside of my injured foot. I saw clearly what the broken bones looked like inside the foot and toes. I watched the osteoblasts and osteoclasts doing their thing, while seeing the blood bringing nutrients and removing toxins, while also seeing the transfer of anything that needed to be removed transferred smoothly and rapidly from the blood to the lymphatic system. Then I sped the "movie" up, intending that the healing process happen more rapidly.

These waters are reported to have healing properties, and this was definitely my experience. I could tell a big difference in the way my foot functioned the next day.

The others came back from above at about 4 pm, and we all got back onto the rafts and went only a short way downstream and camped for the night. I believe that was the night that the crew baked birthday cakes for the two who had birthdays near that time. They actually baked two cakes in dutch ovens over a propane fire! They were divine cakes, too.

The next day was the fifth day of our journey, and the last full day on the Colorado River, followed the last night we would all ever spend together, lying out under the stars in the some of the most powerful, pristine energy on Earth.

...

Grand Canyon: Part 8

2008-07-28T08:10:00.003-05:00

Gathering at the entrance to Blacktail Canyon:

In spite of his earlier burns to the bottom of his feet from the hot sand, Tyb fulfilled his committment to the group each day, and hiked everywhere he had intended to hike. On the fourth day, the rafts took off at 7:25 am, the sun having been up for hours, it seemed. We stopped very soon at 7:41 am and hiked up to Blacktail Canyon to do what afterwards felt to me like the most important of all of our ceremonies.

This is a very narrow slit canyon, and from the inside, actually feels more like a cave with a skylight. This is a place where 2.5 billion year old rock, the oldest rock on the planet, Vishnu Schist, abuts the youngest rock on the planet, Tepeats sandstone. Tyb referred to it as a place where time shifts occur.

At the far internal end of the canyon, there was a small rivulet of water softly oozing down the wall, and pooling at the bottom. There are actually mosses and some ferns growing there, which is a surprise in the middle of the desert. We gathered at that end of the slit canyon, and had a drumming ceremony, using my large drum as usual, to honor the place. We also stated intentions and made offerings for manifestation. I was glad that besides the drum, I had brought my sage and abalone shell. We used it all in the ceremony.

After completing the drumming ceremony, we moved back closer toward the entrance and held a pipe ceremony, led by Bwanaque, a Native American Pipe Carrier for more than one tribe. Like me, she looks like a white woman. But Bwanaque is definitely Native American in every other sense of the word. She is highly respected in the Native American community, and her pipe ceremony was a deep honor to experience. This pipe ceremony was located at the exact spot where those two vastly different ages of rock met, or where the "time shift" is indicated.

At one point, while we were all relocating, I spontaneously stopped and put my forehead to a vein of rounded quartz crystal material that was "bubbling" out of the Vishnu Schist. What occurred was that I "downloaded" for want of a better word, images and memories from Atlantis. I just folowed guidance and put my head to the rock, and this spontaneously happened. It was very confusing, the blur of images, and I just let it be. I did not analyze. I suspect I will realize more from this, later.

Some experiences are so powerful that the impact, the feeling, cannot be put into words. Those in Blacktail Canyon were among them.

...

Grand Canyon: Part 7

2008-07-24T18:23:00.009-05:00

Each day I saw blooming datura, so I was pretty sure what the local shamen had used to facilitate their visions during the full moon ceremony. One of the main jobs of the shaman is to journey to the spirit world and seek answers for self or tribe. It is not done lightly, nor for recreation, and always in the context of sacred ceremony. Seeds and flowers, and less so the leaves from datura have psychotropic qualities, but are highly, highly unpredictable in their effects. One seed from one plant, due to the particular growing conditions and nutrients, might equal ten seeds from a different plant in a different location. One would pretty much have to be a highly trained and experienced shaman, capable of journeying to the plant and asking it how many seeds to use, in order not to be harmed by this potent teacher plant. The reason it is not used recreationally, is that it is NOT a fun trip. They are quite beautiful plants, though, and I enjoyed seeing them everywhere.

Which day it was I am not sure, but one evening while we were in the usual "fireline" formation unloading the rafts, there was an accident. I was standing next to Cecilia, who reached down to get her large bag, when someone threw another big, heavy bag at the pile, hitting her on the pre-frontal region of her head. She was knocked flat down, and lay on the sand beside me looking very shocked. I squatted down and asked her if I had permission to work on her. She said she was okay, but was looking very much as if she were going into shock. She said she heard her neck pop loudly upon impact, and clearly this frightened her. I said that I might be able to help, and could I please have permission to work on her. The second time I asked, she said yes. So I did BodyTalk, starting with Fast Aid to her upper cervical spine and cortexes. When I began to do the cortexes, she lifted her head so I could get to the back of her head. My plan was to burrow down in the sand with my hand to get back there, but she just picked up her head on her own. Good sign, I thought. I did a full session, which took about ten minutes, I think. I could not begin to recall what the formulae were.

Quickly a large group of people gathered around us. At some point one older man said something quite fearful, and I said that this is what I had done on myself after my violent hit on the head, and that I was fine, and Cecilia would be fine as well.

Ater she lay still in the sand for a few minutes more, I looked at Cecilia and said, "Can you wiggle your toes?" She nodded that she could. And then I said, "And you can pick up your head, right?" She said that she could. And then I said, "Your pupil dilation is equal, too, Cecilia. I think you are just going to be fine." After a while, she got up and walked over to her cot and lay down for a few minutes, then got up and changed clothes, and after that ate dinner with the rest of us. There was no further incident, except she reported some slight headache and dizziness, I think, the next day.

Right after I finished working on Cecilia I heard one of the river guides express concern that if they needed to call a helicopter, they needed to do so soon, before it got dark. I walked over to Sigrid and asked her to check Cecilia for that purpose. I told her Cecilia could move her toes and lift her head and pupil dilation was equal, and Sigrid said she was only concerned with the neck and if she needed a neck brace. So she checked her, and decided no helicopter or neck brace was needed. Then Sigrid came to me and quite graciously said, "Good work back there." I was quite touched, and told her so later.

The only other thing I want to say about the experience is this. I did not work on Cecilia until I had her permission. I had to ask twice. I have noticed that not all healers respect the Rule of Permissions. It goes something like this:

We are all on our own path toward perfection, and no one has the right to interfere with anyone else's path, no matter how well-intentioned the helper/healer may be. The person who is arrogant enough to think they know what is best for another person, and so will work on another without his/her permission, is in violation of that person's free will. "Helping" without permission is called interference. After all, who am I, or anyone else, to decide what is in your best interest? The higher self/spirit guides of the inidvidual knows what that person needs for their path to perfection. Jane Healer from down the block does not. And those who "help" without permission are quite likely incurring karma themselves by so doing. Even angels will not "interfere" by acting without permission. Angels help only when asked. It is my understanding that this is a Law of the Cosmos.

******************************************

Besides the datura there were many desert plants, like fruiting prickly pear cactus, short bushes with orange flowers that looked like tiny orchids, and recently introduced tamarind trees. Lizards abounded, as did ravens. If left alone, the ravens would land on our cots and pick through our bags; these are highly intelligent birds. I returned to my cot one afternoon to find my walnut bag ripped open and walnuts spread over the cot. I can only assume that it was a raven. At one point my gloves and fanny pack were missing, and I blamed that on the ravens, too. As it turned out, I had laid them out on a tamarind tree, and forgot.

One evening, and I am not sure which evening it was, we had a talk about teacher plants. Apparently the ayahuasca is an experience that many of us have had. I have not. I experienced teacher plants back in college, and they spurred me toward spiritual awakening, but I have not done ayahuasca, which is a blend of teacher plants used by the shamen in South America. Apparently it causes some people to have a life review, like we have all heard people have at the moment of death, wherein one feels the pain of everyone they have ever hurt. With ayahuasca, one vomits the pain back up. Other people have different experiences, however.

One question Tyb asked us all was how many had experienced such plants. Then he asked how many of us were aware of being concurrently incarnated on other "planets." The same people were in both groups. All of us were aware of having had experiences of past lives in Atlantis, Egypt, and in Native American communities. Most of us were aware of a connection to Sirius.

I saw flashes of one lifetime in particular with another woman in the group in which we were both men in a plains indian tribe. I was an old chief, and she a young warrior, itching for a fight. I had seen my share of fights, and knew that innocents would be harmed, and believed that there was no reason for starting a fight with our neighbors. She (he) ultimately had to be relocated to another tribe. She is still mad at me. That's okay. She has been spending much of this lifetime having fun and making people laugh. An excellent change of plans, it seems to me!

Comforting note to self: I may be wierd, but I would vastly rather be living this part of my life in this way, than spending it improving my golf game. But that's just me. And everyone gets to choose.

One last thought: at some point AA Metatron said through Tyb that we are not here just to serve others. We are here for ourselves, to evolve and grow spiritually. This was an important reminder to me.
...

Grand Canyon: Part 6

2008-07-23T09:51:00.004-05:00

If you look closely, you can see at the back of the boat, Mark the River Guide, jumping over one of the big metal boxes to get into the "mousetrap" and shove me up and out. You definitely cannot see me; I am down in the hole. Right behind us is the tail end of Hermit Rapids.

Day three was the most difficult of all where rapids and physical comfort were concerned. Almost the entire day was one rapid after another, and on that particular day, it happened to be overcast much of the day. So we were wet and cold, no sunshine to warm us. This was one day that I definitely wore my green, plastic rain suit, grateful that it was so good at holding in heat.

Nervous about sitting on the pontoons in front again, after my bonk on the head the first day, I sat in the back, holding onto the straps that went across the padding on top of the largest of the metal boxes. The far back was reserved for the boatman doing the steering. In between was what is called the "mousetrap". This is an open area about five or six feet wide kept clear of everything so that the rubber pontoon boat could flex in the rapids. We were warned not to end up in the mousetrap during a rapid. We could walk back there in between, or when parked, to get things out of our daybags, or to fill our cups/bottles with water or lemonade. So, I was sitting just in front of the mousetrap, holding on to some rather loose straps, not ropes. But I had the idea that this was a "safe location."

I did pretty well during all but the Hermit Rapid. We watched the other boat go first, and at one point it went almost 90 degrees to the earth, and it flexed a lot. This was a very intense, powerful rapid. When it was our turn to go, I realized that the loose straps were going to be a problem. If the hand-hold is tight, the hands can hang on easier. When they are slack, it is harder to hold on, due to momentum, gravity, the weight of one's own body. Add to that the weight of the wall of water which is hitting, over and over, and it can be impossible to hold on. At one point, my right hand came loose, but my left held onto its strap, and my legs flew back and forth through the air, like the fingers on a hand that is waving, with my left hand being the only pivot point. My legs and right arm banged into metal boxes that were flexing toward each other at the top, as the rubber boat flexed in the rapid just like it was supposed to do. I landed inside the "mousetrap," and laid there for a while, watching the boxes flex above me, but not touching me once I had landed. Oddly, I did not feel fear during time, but just intense focus, with an awareness of everything that was going on. Cecilia, who was sitting in front of me on the back box called out as my legs waved in the air, "Hold on, don't let go. I've got you! Hold on, hold on!" I was holding on.

Immediately when the water levelled out a bit, I felt a pair of really strong hands come under my derierre and shove me back onto the large box where I was supposed to be. Later I confirmed that it was Mark, the river guide steering the boat. When I asked how he did that and drove, too, he said that he cut the engine, hopped over, pushed me back up, hopped back over the back boxes, and re-started the engine. This was right on the edge of the rapids, just a few feet over.

From the other boat they could see someone's legs waving in the air, during our run, but not whose. The result for me was not broken bones, but massive bruises on the legs and one on the upper right arm. It looked dramatic, but I actually got off pretty light, considering I was in the "mousetrap."

We were to learn later that the other boat, driven by R.D, had some pretty un-nerving situations, too. Josef, who was riding on the extreme front of the pontoons, also let go with all but one hand, and was under the boat, heading for a keel-hauling experience - with an outboard motor at the back of the boat. Several others on the front pontoons lost their grips in the massive waves. Lindsay, the crew member not driving the boat, hopped up front and started re-attaching hands to ropes. By the time she reached the position to where Josef's lone hand was, another wave had come and shoved him back onto the boat! Josef said he was very aware the entire time of where he was, and of the danger. We decided this was our miracle of the day. The guides said they had never seen this happen before - a wave pushing someone back onto the boat. I am still wondering how Lindsay managed to walk or crawl around over that boat in those waves. This was serious heroism. We honored her and all our guides in our circle that night.

This was also the day where we stopped at the flush toilets, as mentioned in the last post, and where we saw people and donkeys walking across the bridge from one side of the Canyon to another. We lunched at Crystal Creek, and later made camp at 4:21 pm, at a place called Stephen Aisle.

As mentioned earlier, we had ceremonies in a circle each night. Many times Tyb referred to our river guides as "Guardians of the Canyon," and we honored them as such. This is a sacred trust, being Guardians of the Womb of Gaia, and though they might not have put it into those words before, I could tell that this really resonated with the guides. There are still politicians who want to further dam the Colorad River inside the Canyon, and destroy the Grand Canyon. This has been going on intermittently since the 1950's. It was this same rafting company, Western River Expeditions, which took a key player in that political event in the '50's on a tour of the Grand Canyon down the Colorado River, and changed his vote, preventing the damming back then. So these river guides, in taking the limited numbers of people allowed each year, to go down the river in the heart of that immense gorge, are still doing this today. They are educating people experientially as to the stunning beauty and perfection of this ancient geologic miracle of nature, in hopes of saving it from the perversion of politics and human "progress."

Again I honor Mark, R.D., Leslie and Scott: our River Guides and Guardians of the Grand Canyon.

...

Grand Canyon: Part 5

2008-07-22T06:46:00.012-05:00

The first image is a picture taken by either Dick or Jackie of Becky walking back from the "yellow tent." The above rafting image came from Western River's website, but saved to my computer (not using their bandwidth). Here you can see how "cleansing" the rapids are for the boat and everyone on it! You can also see people sitting on some of those large metal boxes that house food and other items, like my massive drum, that needed to stay dry. They are holding onto the straps that go around the boxes. In front, people are "sucking rubber," especially at the far front, and holding onto ropes, one hand in front of their body, one in back. If you do not do the front and back hold, and get your face down onto the pontoon if you are at the extreme front of the boat, you will come off the boat in a really big rapid.

TOILETS

So far I haven't said anything about the toilets. They certainly are worth mentioning. Each day the boat crews would set up a yellow tent with a flap which had a portable toilet inside. We closed the tent flap when we were inside, and opened it when we left. The container beneath the toilet was a large, silvery metal box with a lid. The lid was open, and had a small toilet seat on top of it, and there was another, smaller, silvery metal box in the tent, with toilet paper and some kind of spray sitting beside it. The spray seemed to me like a joke, there is no spray on the planet that will get rid of the stench of so many big piles of human poop. There were twenty-eight of us plus the four crew members.

We were told to urinate in the river, and poop in the boxes. Of course, the crew understood if ladies could not control both streams in the middle of the night. But for men, we were told, there was no excuse to urinate in the boxes at any time. "Men can make their own shade," said the crew, meaning they could turn their backs to the group and have privacy at river's edge.

Additionally, there was a secondary toilet placed up in the bushes with no tent surrounding it. At first, only the men went up there, but as the odor increased, we all vied for the chance to use that one. Down by the toilet tent, there was a big yellow floatation square with the words, "NEED HELP" written on one side. That was the outdoor toilet ticket. It sat next to the hand-washing tubs. When we went up to the uninclosed toilet with the "beautiful wallpaper" (real trees and sand and rocks) we took the ticket with us, and returned it when we got back.

Hand washing consisted of two five gallon plastic containers and a foot operated pump system. We put a squirt of soft soap on our hands, and then pumped water out of the clean water pail with a foot pump, and washed our hands over the one marked "nasty water." The water came from the one marked "clean water." The water came from the river, and later went back to the river. It was an ingenious system.

We made regular stops during the day to urinate, and it was assumed that we would have bowel movements during the evening stops or before we left the next morning. Of course, if anyone had an "emergency" during the day, we were told that a stop would be made for that, but we were expected to bring back the poop in a plastic bag. Needless to say, no one had such an emergency; I mean, can you imagine walking back to the parked boats filled with humans watching you return with a plastic bag filled with your excrement? We all managed to hold it, and there was plenty of time from late afternoon through the night and morning to do our business.

Naturally, after a couple of days, we all figured out that if we urinated on the boat during one of the big rapids all would be washed overboard, and no one would be the wiser. I felt sorry for the people who just could not pee in their pants.

No one ever said what happened to the poop each day, but I suspect that one of those gigantic metal storage bins on the rafts housed all the poop until they could get to the end of the complete nine day run and empty it. We were on the rafts for six days, and when they dropped us off, there was another group to take our places for a slightly more tame three day trip.

On day three, we actually stopped somewhere that had flush-toilets. You do not have to go for long without them to get really excited about flush-toilets, and most of the group excitedly trotted up the hill to partake of the joys of these miracles of modern science. My foot was still too banged up to do that on day three; there was a sandy slope to climb from the boat to the level earth, which would require bending at the toe and foot juncture, and a long trek after that to actually get to the toilets. I watched as several people from different expeditions walked across donkey bridges from the other side of the canyon to get to the flush-toilets as well. The flush-toilets were a big deal. I sat on the boat and ate red licorice, or peanuts, or whatever it was that the crew was handing out for snacks that day.

I was content to miss those scientific miracles, anyway. There is something serene and peaceful in feeling the wind blow softly over the skin, and walking silently across loose, deep sand in the middle of the night by moonlight or starlight to go the the toilet. Truly, I did not mind missing the opportunity to use the flush-toilets.

...

Grand Canyon: Part 4

2008-07-20T18:04:00.008-05:00

The second day we broke camp and were on the water again by 7:30 am. We pretty much fell asleep right after the sun set and awoke when it rose each day. At 8:30 am we stopped at Redwall Cavern, a vast chanber by the river that would be a perfect amphitheatre, and probably seat 500+ people. It was at least as big as a football field. The floor of the cavern was covered in deep, soft sand. There we made ceremony, singing the Wankan Tankan song, which honors the four directions plus earth, sky and Creator. Tyb was using my large drum, and we planted a crystal in the center of our circle. The crystal was brought/planted by Miriam.

Here is a link to a great photo of that cavern: http://bighugelabs.com/flickr/onblack.php?id=1400807314&size=large

Later that morning we passed Puebloan grainaries carved into the stone, high above the river at Nankoweap which have been dated at about 1100 CE. The Pueblo Indians would fill the granaries with excess grain by climbing down from the surface above the Canyon on rope ladders, then seal the entrance after lighting a fire that would later burn itself out, using up all the oxygen. This created a vacuum, and kept the seal tight. Also vermin could not live in there sans oxygen. No one went down the river much, so the grain was pretty safe, the location not being visible from above, and the owners kept the location secret. The grainaries were beautiful to look at, too.

This second day we also stopped for a while and hiked up the side of the Little Colorado River, a tributary. At one point Tyb stopped and got into the water, and when he got back out, did not put on his shoes. Quickly, and before he realized it, the hot sand had burned massive blisters on the soles of his feet, which later broke open and made walking very difficult and painful. A few minutes after that, we reached the part of the river where we were told we could sort-of "body surf" the rapids, as it were. Wearing our lifejackets, one at a time, we hopped into the river and carefully steered ourselves in between the rocks, feet first. Unfortunately, someone else hopped into the river right behind me, leaving insufficient space between us, and I ended up smashing into the rocks, feet first. I also did a lot of swirling out of control and swallowing water.

When I got out, I could barely walk. My left foot was really messed up. At least one toe, the big toe, was broken. It hurt like hell. Later I realized probably more than that was broken. Siggy confirmed that there was likely breakage. Most of my left foot was eventually extremely swollen bruised, and I had a hard time walking. Initially I just lay on the side of the stream trying to figure out why I was getting injured each day through no apparent fault of my own. I remembered Tyb saying the night before that we must remember to stay in touch with our joy.

Okay, I said to myself, this might be the lesson. How do I reclaim my joy? Nature has been the way I have been able to find my joy since I was a small child. So lying there on my back, I looked around to reconnect with nature. Lying on my back I could see clouds, mostly, and the side of the Canyon. As I looked up at the clouds, I swear to you, I saw a blue isoceles triangle form out of the clear blue sky with clouds all around it. Then there was a sky blue stem coming out of the base of the triangle, which formed a perfect arrow. I blinked. It was still there. A perfect freaking arrow, I kid you not. An arrow pointing at the cliffs. So I asked myself what was it pointing at? I looked at the cliffs, and reaching out over the top of the cliff, coming toward us, was a cloud formation shaped exactly like an angel with arms outstretched and hands open wide. I heard a voice in my head say, "We are always with you. Do not let ANYTHING take away your joy!!" I then began sobbing with joy, not pain. JOY. My arm over my eyes, I lay there alone, and sobbed silently with joy.

Joy comes from inside us, and we can reconnect to it through nature, or dance, or art, or music, or the act of deeply loving of someone. There are many ways. Frequently people get joy confused with happiness. Happiness comes from external circumstances, and is transitory. Laughter is not a sign of joy; it is a sign of happiness. Joy feels closer to peace. And profound joy can bring tears.

At the side of the river, Mark the River Guide gently wrapped my toes with elastic strips, and that helped for a while, but I could not put on shoes with the bandages there. I ended up just walking on the bare foot later, putting the weight on my heel. I looked pretty funny walking. Getting back downriver I floated most of the way, which was vastly easier than walking. Dick and Salome helped me get back to the rafts when I did have to walk. I would not have made it without them. They held onto me almost every step of the way. I was really in pain.

We finally docked that day at 4:44 pm, set up camp, and had our ceremonial circle after supper. The river guides began sitting in on the evening ceremony that day, listening.

I shared this experience of the lesson regarding my joy with the group that evening during our circle. One of the things Tyb said was going on was that many people were releasing things. I resonated with this. Lessons and release work seemed quite appropriate for this intense energy of the Canyon. Someone else said that in a past life we had been tortured nearby, and that in this location our hands and feet were damaged, so we should protect them. Tyb said not to focus on this kind of thing, focus instead on that we were releasing many things with our injuries. My feet had been cramping for years prior to this trip, and only in the evenings. They did not cramp once the whole time we were on this trip, and rarely have since coming home. Something definitely got released, in addition to the lesson in joy. For both I am grateful.

Oddly enough, that night the moth began to whack me on the head. It happened every night almost. After we began to sit in the circle and talk, a giant moth, about the size of a bat, would fly into the circle and crash into my head, right on the midline of my head at the place where my hairline meets my forehead. It wasn't a bat, because I know what their sonar sounds like, and this thing was silent. This was a very, very large moth. It hit me four times that night. Right after that Tyb asked me if I channel. I was evasive. Each night after that it would come tap me at least once. Later I realized that in Angelic High Magic, the moth is a symbol for the Arch Angel Gabriel. I am not sure what to make of all that.

At some point after I had set up my cot that afternoon, Kate Bailey did BodyTalk on me, and to that I attribute much of the rapid healing of my foot. Just eight days later most of the bruising on the surface is gone, although there is still stiffness and swelling. I have never healed a serious injury so fast before. And I got the pleasure of doing BodyTalk in return for Kate a couple of days later, actually on her birthday! Of course, it is impossible to say that it was just the BodyTalk that got my foot better so fast. Carol did Reiki on my foot after I fell asleep that night, and Becky did something she does in combination with EMF balancing the next day. I was surrounded by healers!

The next morning we broke camp after breakfast and formed the usual fireline to load the rafts. Day three we were on the water by 7:15 am. Day three promised some very, very huge rapids, but mercifully, we did not know that yet.

Deep gratitude goes to Kathie Brodie for keeping a log so we would later know what time all these things happened. :>}

Grand Canyon: Part 3

2008-07-20T10:22:00.008-05:00

Each day of the journey we held ceremonies in special places, and again at night before retiring. Every part of this journey was sacred, and we knew it in every moment, thanks to the guidance of Tyb.

What I realized this morning is that for me, anyway, this trip was some kind of initiatory ritual. More than that I do not know just yet. I have had a floating, bouncing sensation coupled with extreme exhaustion ever since the morning after our last supper together, which was the evening of July 14, 2008. I slept all the way back to Houston on the plane from Vegas, doubtless a common sight on that flight, although for very different reasons. My guess is that I am getting used to a new frequency, or new level of energy. And Metatron via Tyb did say our merkabic vehicles were all being activated before the trip was over.

Past Lives Together

Now I will share with you what else I realized during the trip. I have been doing past life readings from the Akashic Records for over 20 years. (not hypnotic regressions - but Akashic Readings). I realized gradually that most of this group on this river rafting trip through the Grand Canyon have had numerous lifetimes together. These have been in various combinations, some of us present in some lifetimes and others not, many times as Native Americans, often as nomads. The primary lifetime, however, the one that we all had together, was during the last days of Atlantis.

We were moving giant, multi-storied crystals to safe places for their preservation during the destruction we knew was coming. We were living as nomads then, too. We used the Grand Canyon as a stageing area, because no one was looking for us there, and it not only offered ample cover, but had openings to vast underground civilizations, some of whose members helped us. These included Lemurians and Sirians.

As I have stated, we used the Canyon site as a stageing area, or command central, from which we mounted forays into other parts of the earth. The primary purpose was for moving these large crystals, some even sky-scraper-sized crystals. Another purpose was for seeding our civilization into other, more primitive, areas of the Earth. One of our successes was assisting in implanting the Blue Crystal of Knowledge beneath Talimena Ridge. There are also some rather enormous crystal clusters under Lake Hamilton, near Hot Springs, AK. And very many more in other locations worldwide.

There were many powerful beings on the surface in those days who did not want us moving those crystals, and so we were in hiding. One of the reasons we came back together this July of 2008, was to fulfill an ancient contract. We did not get to finish what we intended to finish in that lifetime,and therefore did not come back there together in that lifetime as a group as we originally planned. Some died or were captured before we could return. Many of the "Egyptian" artifacts found in the caves back in the early 1900's were ours. So were the transport vehicles. As Tyb said, those were actually Atlantean artifacts which were found, but the closest thing anyone living in the 1900's had ever seen to them were Egyptian artifacts, so the assumption was made. These artifacts have not all been destroyed, and most are being stored somewhere.

Here is a link to info on the "Egyptian" / Grand Canyon info: http://www.geocities.com/TheTropics/Lagoon/1345/Canyon.html

http://www.philipcoppens.com/egyptiancanyon.html

You can google to find more, there is lots more.

The transport vehicles were manned by our river four guides, by the way, and Dick, who came on the 2008 river trip with his wife, Jackie. Dick was the Commander of Steerage. The rest of us did not have a clue how to operate those ships. Our steerage crew each volunteered to help us with this momentus project, which included leaving their families behind and probably never coming home to them again. These vehicles could move through solid rock exactly like submarines move through water, by the way.

We failed to do all we intended to do in that lifetime, but we did the best we could. So we came back together in this lifetime as a way of "finishing" the project. It was also a cosmic recognition of that lifetime, and our hard work back then, as well as a spiritual honor to all of us, that we were allowed to be in the Grand Canyon at this time as it was being reactivated. Our deepest gratitude goes to Tyb for facilitating bringing us all together by arranging the trip.

*************************************************************

A NIGHT VISION

One other thing I want to mention is a vision I had the first night we were together at the Desert Rose Inn, right before falling asleep. It was but a brief flash, but I saw one of the 144 sided crystals like Tyb has, only it was several stories tall. I watched as about twelve lightbeings with wings arched themselves over the crystal, leaning into its shape, and touched their fingertips together at the top of the long termination. When the last lightbeing's fingers touched, there was a sudden radiation out from the tip of a grid of some kind. From the tips of the fingers of each being something resembling the veins in an ovoid leaf spread out. When googling leaf shapes to describe it better I found a mathematical graph which was called the "Leaf of Trust." This was the shape that the viens of the leaves I saw created. One leaf each radiated out from the tips of all twelve lightbeings - and in a horizontal plane. Here is a link to the mathematical grid of the Leaf of Trust: http://www.lysator.liu.se/~jc/wotsap/leafoftrust/wholeleaf_marked_400.png The mathematician who created this image also refers to a web of trust.

In my vision, all twelve leaves fanned out from the tip of the gigantic crystal in a horizontal plane, and my sense was that they somehow went on out into infinity, creating a grid. The wider end of the leaf was closer to the crystal.

Tyb said there is a crystal just like this in Mt. Shasta (inside the earth? in another dimension?).

Grand Canyon: Part 2

2008-07-19T08:45:00.003-05:00

Lunch on day one was near Soap Creek Rapid. So far the rapids were mostly just fun, not actually dangerous. We pulled up onto a little sandy beach with several trees. We hid under the shade of these trees to eat. Life on the river went from steaming, baking heat in the sun to shivering, freezing cold when wet and in the shade.

Lunch was divine. There were large tortillas cut in half, rolled into a cone and stuffed with a delightful chicken salad with an Indian curry flair. There were tomatoes, lettuce, pickles, onions, cheese, olives, and potato chips and cookies, plus the ever-present lemonade and purified river water to drink. The guides always made sure we had lots of salty snacks so that the salt lost from sweating in a super-dry environment where the sweat instantly evaporated would be replaced. The sweat evaporating so quickly meant that we could not tell we were sweating. I also noticed that my sweat tasted of sugar instead of salt on the trip. I mean, when I would lick my upper lip, instead of the expected salty taste I got sweetener of some kind. This means that it was coming out through my lymphatic system. I do not know what that was, but that taste returned to salt when I got home. I assume that the huge volume of lemonade I drank mixed with the river water had something to do with the change in the taste on my skin. Sugar does not do this, so I wonder what the sweetener was.

Sitting around and watching people on a trip like that one can notice interesting things. Some older couples only married a few years do not get on as well as younger couples married for a very long time. I was reminded that hope springs eternal in the human breast, as I watched a few older women vie for the attention of certain older men on the trip.

That first day at lunch, after we sat in the sand in the shade and ate, several of us women went upstream to pee. We were only slightly out of sight of the men. This mattered to us at first. Travelling along a river in the desert like a tribe of nomads changes one's perspective rather quickly. The men peed downstream, and just turned their backs to us. The river guides instructed us that all liquids go back into the river. It does not rain there much, it is in the desert after all, and peeing on the land was not acceptable.

We loaded back onto the boats, and went downstream to camp. We stopped at 4 pm to set up camp and formed a "fireline" to unload the camp chairs, the cots, our large bags, and much of the food set-up. Each day the fireline to unload the boats at night and load them in the morning was pretty much the same, except for the day someone got bonked on the head. More about that later.

After unloading, we went to set up our cots, which looked easier than it was. The first night the crew set up a tent for ladies to change inside, but after that, again, we got used to just changing with our backs to the others, or going behind a bush. The tent was never set up again. Starting the second day, each night the women, or some of us, would head over four to five at a time, to the area designated for women, and bathe. We would mostly just bathe the "stinky parts" The water was 48 degrees Fahrenheit, and most people could not completely submerge themselves for very long. So mostly we would stand and splash, partially clothed. We took biodegradable soaps, like Dr. Bronner's Peppermint - my all-time favorite soap. After a couple of days, we evolved to the habit of just standing there naked and splashing the water on ourselves. Washing hair was a challenge, and most of us did not do it every day, despite all the sweat, and the fine white sand that blew over us a significant portion of the time. My hair got pretty stiff and gnarly-looking. I was grateful for the hat.

Next we would go back to camp and apply lotions or lie down for a while, while the crew cooked for us. Also at this time, many of the group would go hiking on the cliffs and into the caves, especially Rob and Tammy from Edmonton, being the youngest of us.

The first night as we were setting up camp, there were five crows on the rocks above us. I thought that was pretty significant, since they were right near my campsite, and there are five ANK, who are the Sirians I have been speaking with about the energy medicine for ascension. It seemed like a sign. But I said nothing. Siggy is the one who saw the crows first, I think.

After eating supper, we formed a circle on the sand with our camp chairs, sang the Wankan Tankan song, and Tyb spoke. He reminded us that this canyon has a lot of intense energies, and that often it will set people off and make them cry or fight, and so on. He reminded us to be kind to each other, and to let things go as they happen. Tyb also reminded us to focus on the beauty of the canyon, and on our own joy. I needed to hear that to prepare me for the next day.

We went to bed about the time the stars came out, and there were a lot of them. The sky was absolutely covered with masses of stars. While the moon was out, we needed no other light to walk around, and navigate to the toilets. The moon, progressing toward full, set each night after a couple of hours, and then we could really see the stars. There were also some odd lights above, in addition to a massive number of aircraft. We were all shocked at how many aircraft fly over the Grand Canyon each night, and at a very, very high altitude. A couple of us spotted what we thought were sattelites.

Oddly, the wind would shift frequently and unexpectedly. When coming from the river, it would be icy cold. Then it would periodically shift and come from the massive rock cliffs, and it would be hot like an oven opening. We were profoundly exposed to nature, and helpless in the face of it, or so it seemed to me. That first night there was a strong wind, and not only we but everything we owned was sandblasted all night long. I slept like a log in spite of that. I was very, very tired. Everyone else seemed to be as well.

The Grand Canyon Trip: "Recordkeeper Speaks" - Part 1

2008-07-18T06:06:00.003-05:00

The following is my take on the trip. Ultimately it seems to me that we can only talk from our own perspective, so that is what I am doing.

There was clearly a spiritual calling for me to do this trip. This trip was expensive, and truthfully, I have always wanted to go to England in July and see crop circles, not the Grand Canyon. So this was not something my logical mind wanted to do, in fact I almost dreaded it. Whitewater rafting is dangerous, and I am sixty years old. Yet there would be others there who were older, and I was being "called," so I went. I had no preconcieved ideas about what would happen, and it was a good thing that I did not. Preconcieved ideas ruin trips as well as life. Well, life actually is a trip, isn't it?

The first evening we assembled in the lobby at the Desert Rose Inn. I was rather quiet, and just watched everyone. The leader, Tyb, was encouraging, again saying that we were all called to do this, and that we had been together in many, many lifetimes. Several well-known channels had stated that the Grand Canyon was being activated somehow that week, the same week we had scheduled to be there. We had scheduled this trip a very long time before anyone had channelled that information, too. So there in the lobby of the Desert Rose, we went around the circle and each introduced ourselves; no one popped out as especially important in having been with me in other lives, though many looked really, really familiar. I had no idea how close I would feel to most of them by the time the trip was over.

We arose early the next morning and caught a bus to a small airport. I carried my bag, which was much too large and overpacked, and my Taos drum. I had been guided to bring on the trip my huge drum, which for the eighteen years I'd had it, had been used only for ceremonial purposes - shamanic journeying, and such. The drum is about five inches deep by twenty-four inches in diameter, with an exquisite tone and energy. I felt like I really stuck out, carrying around a big drum, and did not look forward to the the inevitable questions from strangers. I pefer not to stand out. I was also wearing a safari hat, again atypical of me. Of course, the hat was just to keep the sun off my face. I am very fair-skinned. And so moving about in a group looking strange, with hat and drum was a little uncomfortable. Yet it turned out that bringing the drum was exactly the right thing to do. It was used by Tyb and Bwanaque in almost every ceremony that was done over the next week.

We arrived at the airport and boarded two small turbo-prop aircraft which took all 28 of us to the river entry point at Lees Ferry. The flight was noisy, but relatively fast. When we disembarked I immediately began to regret how much I had packed. I almost could not lift it all. I needed help, which is unusual for me. I do everything by myself of necessity, ever since my long-ago divorce.

We got down to the rafts, and assembled in the areas laid out on the sand with lines, got our waterproof bags, one large one for the dufflebags, and one small one for day use, and listened to the orientation given by Mark, the River Guide.

After we all got onto the boat, I cautiously sat in the back, wearing shorts and a short-sleeved shirt under my rainsuit. Quickly I began to sweat profusely, and my skin felt like it were being cooked in a steamer. I took off the wet gear, and applied sunscreen. Note to self: tomorrow wear long-sleeved shirt and pants, and forget the wetsuit. I put it in the little waterproof daybag in case I needed it later. The back of the boat was safe, but soon became boring.

A couple of hours later, I got onto the front, on the pontoons, so I could get wet in some of the rapids. Siggy was in front of me, and in front of her was Ken L. Siggy decided that was too crowded for her, so she moved, leaving me behind Ken, who steadfastly refused to "suck rubber" unless Lindsay the "swamper," a crew member, stood right over him and made him do it. It was not that he could not do it, because he did when she insisted, but rather that he did not want to do it. Naturally, later, despite being told about a dozen times by other members of the group to lie face down on the pontoon (called sucking rubber) in the large rapids, he was picked up by a big wave. The full weight of his body plus the force of the wave slammed him straight into the top of my head, jamming my entire head and spine toward my bottom, since I was bending forward as instructed. I was pretty angry with him for a while. But I proceeded to do BodyTalk on myself, and eventually, after a few hours, began to feel better. I had a headache and some dizziness and disorientation for about a day, though. Second note to self: Is there a lesson in this experience? If so, what is it?

I had been concerned about going on this trip without another BodyTalker around. Actually, I was carping silently to myself that if anyone got hurt, I could work on them, but who would work on me? What could a doctor or nurse, if they were there, do without their machines and pills? Well, okay, maybe set a bone. It foolishly did not occur to me that any doctor or nurse who was on that trip would also be into alternative medicine, and they were, but I digress. And then surprise, surprise, there was another BodyTalker there. She was from South Africa: Kate Baily. Thank goodness. I felt vastly more comfortable when I found out that she was there.

On this trip, there were four from South Africa: Kate, Salome, Hannelie, and Glynis, from Switzerland, Viola, from Germany, Birgit, and from Canada, Rob and Tammy, from Holland, Miriam and Chirs and Franz. Franz currently lives with Marilyn, also on the trip, in Oakland. Also from the states: Kathie, Thomas and Cecilia, Bwanaque, Ken L., Ken K., Josef, Carol, Vinaya, Anariya, Jackie and Dick, Becky, Sigrid (Siggy), me (Lois) and Tyb.

Sigrid and Birgit are medical doctors and Bwanaque is a nurse. And, yes, all are into alternative modalities. Also there were a lot of other healers there, with various modalities. This turned out to be a good thing. Almost everyone got banged up a little bit.

At first, I had a hard time getting used to all the talking. Were it up to me, there would have been a lot of silence, meditative silence, and becoming one with the water and the canyon walls. After all, we do not meditate and talk at the same time. But most everyone else seemed to want to chatter. The first couple of days it really bugged me, but I became accustomed to it. I realized just what a monastic life I lead. I suppose the talking was a way to "connect" for most people: a social ritual.

I did manage to spend a lot of time looking at the Canyon walls myself, and watch them morph over and over into different shapes - faces and animals and cities and such. This happened all of the time throughout the Canyon, just like it happens in the vortexes in Sedona. I suspect it is supposed to be like this everywhere, all the time, but due to the encroachment of civilization, particularly because of discordant electromagnetic frequencies, it does not. There were no emf signals in the Canyon, but the intense earth energy of the Womb of Gaia, another name for the Grand Canyon, was held in by the vast, ancient walls of stone surrounding us. The river was very healing, and released a lot of emotions for us all. Only on the land was I physically uncomfortable, feeling nauseous much of the time the first few days. On the water I felt good.