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Once upon a time a lovely woman, a princess of sorts, built a great garden, criss-crossed with flower-lined pathways leading to beautiful places.

There was a play place with a sand box in which she buried coins and other treasures, mainly broken costume jewelry bits, strings of shiny faux pearls and clusters of sparkly plastic gemstones that children were always thrilled to find.

There was a quiet place with a stone throne in which to sit and gaze at a massive crystalline ball while listening to the soft splish-splash of a nearby fountain.

And there was a dining place with a large wooden table and a generous assortment of chairs of every shape and style, all colorfully appointed with thick cushions.

And all who entered this garden were greeted by hosts who never left, colorful statues of a beautiful princess and her friends, then escorted through the garden by more statues, mainly an abundance of frogs.

Divine Inspiration

 

Carol and I are racing through downtown Los Angeles. We don’t want to be late for our meeting. We’re wondering what will we tell him? What’s enough anyway? We just don’t know. We’ve never done this before…

 

Maybe $120,000 I blurt out. That should leave us each enough for holding costs for at least a year. Carol thinks that might be too low. Come on I coax… This is the cheap design/build guy. He figures out how to do amazing projects on half a shoe string. It’s just a starting point anyway. Let’s toss it out and see what happens. My side vision catches her blond hair bobbing up and down. This will be our approach.

 

They will come to a fork in the road. One road will lead to Materialism and Destruction.....for almost all living creatures....The other road will lead to a Spiritual Way upon which the Native People will be standing...This path will lead to the lighting of the 8th fire, a period of eternal peace, harmony and a "New Earth" where the destruction of the past will be healed

Anishnabe prophecy

The Temple of Kom-Ombo is filled with hieroglyphics of Horace (representing the Light) and Sobek (representing the Dark). 

The building is unique because it was built as a double temple.  There were courts, halls, sanctuaries and rooms duplicated for both gods, Horus, the falcon god and Sobek the god of fertility and creator of the world.  Everything is perfectly symmetrical along the main axis, having this be a very atypical temple.

 

Sophie goes with her husband and a group of friends on a trek in the high Andes Mountains of Peru. There, amidst the ruins of an ancient Inca temple, she receives the rites of the munay-ki from an ancient shaman. He is wearing a magnificent multi-colored, hand-woven cone shaped hat and matching poncho. Against her heart he presses a collection of stones, wrapped in a colorful hand-woven wool cloth. Energy from the stones shoots into her body. And he tells her about the rainbow, that it represents a bridge into the invisible world, a world with which most Westerners lost contact long ago. As her day continues she is extra happy, energized with a new spring in her step.

The New Year is absolutely amazing.  As we rang in the new year I could feel the energy shift.  I came into this year knowing exactly what I intend to do and that my intentions will be accomplished. Here is an awesome message that was sent to me.  It is so exciting.  I am so grateful to be alive during this time. I am very clear that we are the ones that the world has been waiting for. The time is NOW.

Message from the Hopi Elders for this era.

"There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great
and swift that there are those who will be afraid. They
will try to hold on to the shore. They will feel that
they are being torn apart and they will suffer greatly.
Know that the river has a destination. The elders say
we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle
of the river and keep our eyes open and our heads
above water.

And I say, see who is in there with you and celebrate!
At this time in history we are to take nothing
personally. Least of all ourselves. For the moment that
we do, our spiritual growth and journey comes to a halt.

As we peer out over a bridge at Elephantine Island, I wonder what will we find at this location. We see a ferry ease up to the dock and we scamper down to catch it.  Once onboard, I get a weird feeling like this should all be a movie. It seems so surreal.  Elephantine Island seems like an odd name for a place, and just as I have that thought our guide announces that this was where the Nubians would bring the Elephant tusks to trade.  When we exit the boat, the first things we see are a few children playing with plastic guns. Not a lot different here than in the US. What is our fascination with guns?

So much farm land is worked, and reworked and planted and plowed and turned under, sprayed with chemicals and fed with more chemicals, year after year and decade after decade. Did you every wonder if the land gets tired?  I did.

In 1992, I bought a farm in Central Texas, and because I was too busy with my own stuff to question arrangements that had been in place for many years, I allowed MY property to continue to be be farmed. Kind of like the farming arrangement conveyed with the sale of the land.  I forgot to ask just how many years it had been in "cultivation" and what was the process and any other questions that gave me information about its history.  The cultivation kept it in an Agricultural status and that was financially good for me.  We're not talking about a lot of money, but it was a quick fix and I didn't even give it a second thought. I was too busy and it was not important to my future.  Right?  NOT!

Through tears, the grout lines seemed surreal. Delirious from dehydration and exhaustion, I laid lifeless on the bathroom tile. It had been over 48 hours since I had slept for fear of soiling another set of sheets, clothes, and towels. The floor must have been cold, but I could no longer feel it. From beneath the door, I heard Senora Campos, the matriarch and cook of the household, hen peck her husband, "él no necesita a un médico !" A house call would have ignite neighborhood gossip, chard her reputation, and incinerated her livelihood. The Spanish language school would never send her anymore boarders, if they found out the food poisoning had come from her kitchen. "...pedo, el médico no trabaja los Domingos" was followed by a moment of silence before foot steps walked away from the door.