Shepherd -- Lora

Revelations

part of: The Hidden Land

by Lora of Many Generations

Shekina had been back two full weeks before the next Wanderer streamed through the Gate to the Hidden Land. They had all simply needed the time to digest everything Moira and she had experienced. In those two weeks Marcia had sat, simple and open, by the side of the sea, breathing. No thoughts came to her. A lifetime of feelings washed through her, cleansing her, preparing her. She watched them like she watched the waves on the shore…the waves disappeared rhythmically into the cave to her right…just as she would disappear through the Gate. To what did each lead?

Moira watched, at first in sympathy, then in quiet admiration. Marcia’s strength was astounding, her poise, her skill in preparing herself to meet the unknown, her willingness to run full open into the wind of experience.

The others were lost in their own perambulations through the maze of recent events. There was much to explore and digest just in their own feelings, never mind the implications of the existence of the Hidden Land and its inhabitants for Earth and Its people.

As the new Moon rose, so did Marcia. It was time to go.

At dusk the seven filed into the Shrine. Moira and Shekina had reported that the time of day here in the Wayward Land and in the Hidden Land (they had all unconsciously adopted these nomers) seemed to correspond. Marcia wanted to travel at dusk, to feel the shores of the Hidden Land as night fell, when her inner eye would open most fully. Moira and Shekina had eagerly agreed. The others had nodded mutely. It had not been decided who would follow Marcia. They felt apprehension about who might be called upon to go next….though Marcia felt Kendra would step forward.

The seven explorers took their places, focused their minds, their breathing, began the proscribed chanting. Marcia inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, looked up into the image of day fading into night in the crystal dome overhead, chanted, then….the swoosh….with the deep sensitivity of a profoundly gifted Deznahdorean, she felt the spin of every electron in her body stop for one brief instant, a surge into absolute stillness, a portal passed through, then she felt her electrons spin again, and she stood at the foot of the fabled 700 foot Rowan tree, which was singing loud about the approach of night. “Motion of Life, stillness of All, motion of Life,” came a faint chant in her mind.

“The Stream force moves us most readily when we are completely still,” the deep voice of midnight sang through all the nerves of her body.

“It is how we are able to travel in this way,” said the voice of the breeze. “Your breathing, your intent, and your chants in concert with the technology of the shrine create the opening for stillness to be established within. The breathing, focus and chants of your companions supply the power to push your stillness through the portal of the Gate to us as we hold the opening for your stillness to return once more to life.”

Marcia knew these voices from feeling them in Moira and Shekina’s minds.

She opened herself like a flower to receive more of them, let her dreams run out of her nerves like rivulets of clean water, to pool at her feet. She was there…here, in the Hidden Land! She would ponder all these words later. Right now, she was all ear, listening inside, feeling the six people behind her watching the patterns of her life, her quest, her hopes, her fears, all there in the dreams pooling at her feet. She relaxed down and let herself flow more fully there. She could feel she was being fully witnessed. It was such blissful release, a release she had passionately desired all the days of her life.

The six sang all through her, then images of stars whirling, leaves unfurling, wing muscles pumping the air in full flight caught her up, mesmerized her. It was the eagle mind. She joined him in escstatic flight, soared up with him over the Rowan tree before her. Two moons were setting on the western horizon shrouded in trees. In the distance were high, white peaks, the cry of the sea at their feet came to her ears through clear, cold air. There were fish leaping in the streams, beings of all kinds plying their way through the forested lands, in fact, the whole planet felt like a hive of intense activity. “The Stream has returned. We will travel soon to distant lands long prepared,” the eagle cried among the rushes of the wind. Marcia started at the feel of the piercing voice and fell instantly back down into her body.

The power of the Hidden Land sang through her, transforming every thought into instant reality. She had never felt such a harmony of forces, such a sensitive response from her environment. “Careful girl,” she thought. “Be careful what you think out into this realm.”

“Indeed,” came the playful voice of a bubbling stream. “Here it doesn’t just come back three-fold, but 103!

“How is all this possible,” Marcia blurted out, her thoughts becoming a rush of leaves in the unexpected wind of the power of this place.

“Ah, possibility!” the scent of lemons splashed into her mind, turning her juicy and alert within. “The entire Field is open to choice and enhanced by attention here. In the Wayward Land your kind stopped feeding the entire Field with attention when the last Day of the Stream ended. We have never stopped feeding the entire Field with attention. For 300 million of our cycles we have fed this place with our reverent, open attention. What you feel is the result. We call it the Harmonium. It provides us with immense power, even through a Day of the Field.”

“Feeding the entire Field with attention?” Marcia questioned.

“Yes, your kind pays attention to such a narrow range of things, fights over which thing is more important than that, elevates one thing and then another to supremacy in an attempt to control, to understand,” came the copper voice, shining sharply in her mind.

“Harmony is the only real form of control available to us,” whispered the leaves on the trees, the moss under her feet.

“Harmony is obtained by revering all,” came a bright splash of lemon song.

“Shun nothing and no one,” advised midnight.

“Open to all equally,” instructed the giggling breeze.

“Then the the impetus to harmony…I think your scientists call it homeostasis…will arrange things in your mind according to need,” the lemon mind sighed.

“Is the Stream the impetus to harmony?” Marcia asked.

“No,” replied midnight. “The Stream is raw power, and lots of it. Harmony is just one of the many impetuses in the Universe.”

“Why is harmony so necessary?” Marcia asked.

“It allows you to feel everything. It is the alignment of all the forces, processes and forms of your being into balanced arrangement that fully meets, penetrates and navigates each moment,” the scent of spring grass said.

“Disruptions, imbalances of any kind distort and hide aspects of the Field, including the self,” midnight replied. “This impedes complete interaction with the moment, creating further imbalance.”

“But there are disruptions of all kinds in the world,” Marcia said.

“Yes, particularly in the Wayward Land. The energy currents there are definitely cross-wise to one another,” said the rush of eagle’s wings. “We have always been fortunate here. The prevailing energies support and enhance harmony. What we have here is as much due to that, as to our own efforts.”

“Keep the Harmonium in your own being,” came a voice as sweet and warm as cinnamon.

“By holding the entire Field and the Stream in open attention,” continued midnight.

“Then, even in the midst of the chaos of the Wayward Land, rivulets of Harmony will be generated that reveal the Way surely,” finished the soft sigh of cinnamon.

“Even when the Stream isn’t working?” Marcia asked.

“Isn’t working!” The voice of the eagle danced in a sudden uprush of laughter.

“Well, does the Stream Force function during the Day of the Field?” Marcia questioned.

“Yes,” sighed the breeze gently. “But Its influence is weak. The Field influence is more prominent. The Field lies within Stillness and holds all the Forms Stillness gives birth to. Nothing is lost once begun, even though Transformation is ongoing.”

“The Field,” Marcia echoed blankly….letting her blankness rise up like a grey fog.

The six shone the lights of their own understandings within it, dissipating it somewhat.

“It is enough to know of Stillness and Transformation, the Field and the Stream at this time. They are simply processes in the Universe we make use of to conduct our lives,” midnight whispered.

“Your science might call them other things, postulate other theories for their explication and use,” the eagle sailed through her thoughts.

“The Field, the Stream, Transformation, the Stillness, they all exist within your own body. Your own being is a composite of these forces, forms and processes, and many others….as is everything we encounter in the Universe around us,” lemon tantalized.

“You access these forces, forms and process through simple things like breathing, attention, voice, motion, thought, intention, emotion, music, instrumentalities responsive to your actions,” breathed the cinnamon.

“So, all this is why the Gate works?” Marcia asked.

“It is,” the six sang together.

“But these things don’t work well in the Wayward Land. The prevailing currents there require great strength of will, unclouded sensitivity, etheric intelligence, and unwavering purpose to navigate harmoniously,” the grass added. “During a Day of the Field when the power of the Stream is almost unavailable, it is like being up in a lighter than air conveyance watching the entire vista of the Field, and then falling to the ground, being unable to get back up again. There you are, stuck in the midst of the Field. You begin to believe that part of the Field is all there is after a time. This has happened to your kind every time a Day of the Stream ends.”

“The last time the Stream faded, your spiritualists postulated it was because of some error of humankind and set about finding the culprits and punishing them. Your entire history over the last 10,000 years is the history of punishment,” the eagle sighed sadly. “Yet, there was no fault involved, just the ebb and flow of the Universe…just a part of the cycle that allows existence to unfold through Time.”

“Finding culprits and punishing them for the way things are….finding someone to blame because things aren’t like we want them to be,” Marcia mused. Knowing human history as intimately as she did, she could see their point all too clearly. “Men punishing the daughters of Eve or Pandora, businessmen firing employees if profits went down, all the big and little ways humans punished each other all day everyday for not living up to expectations of one kind or another. And yet, if we could just rise up a little and get a look at the lay of the land…..and even in that notion, of transcending, we have got it all askew. It isn’t to get beyond the physical…but to see everything firmly in its right place within the entire Field through Time.”

“Then understanding and harmony come easily. You feel the cycles clearly, even in the midst of the Wayward Land. Even there you would be able to feel the slightest thing and understand its place in the whole cycle of things, its place in the eternal Field.” the stream bubbled, mad with glee. “You could even learn to harmonize yourself enough to become one with the Stillness…which is what allows you to be sent along the energy conduits of the Universe to any place…any time…any where at all.”

Marcia considered this for a moment.

“The mind and emotion forces of groups in the Wayward Land has been used to replace the power source of the Stream,” eagle mind cautioned.

“Yes, indeed,” midnight said sharply.

“The mind and emotion forces of groups?” Marcia asked.

“Oh, yes,” splashed the lemon mind. “Certain groups of humans have been trained to give their power, through attention, focus and passion, to certain other groups to be used to power your various societies. This has obscured and twisted many things.”

“This is especially true of the power of Love,” came the bubble of the stream.

“Only certain configurations of the Love bond have been allowed in the Wayward Land,” continued the rush of eagle’s wings. “Love is one of the most potent powers in the Universe…it permits the merging of beings into something far greater than the sum of their individualities. Such a poverty of Love on your world right now. One must love who and what one is instructed to love, not who or what one actually loves. One can only love the Face of the Universe defined by one’s rulers, not one’s own inner visions. What terrible harm has been done to the harmony of your world through these simple injunctions?”

“I can see how that has happened and is happening,” Marcia said. “Though it is not nearly as oppressive or poisonous as it used to be.”

“That is because the Stream Force is returning. Imagine each human’s being as a balloon. The Stream Force is currently filling those balloons, so that all of you, where ever you have plunked down in the midst of the Field, are rising up, getting a better look at things. Soon that force will be so strong and your uplift so high that the group mindforms that have caused so much difficulty in the past will dissolve under their own inadequacy to deal with the whole Field as it is embraced, transformed and danced by the Stream!”

Marcia suddenly had a great vision of all the beings of Earth, the Wayward Land, rising up, dancing on invisible energy currents….the Earth…the Universe had energy rivers and all sorts of beings were riding them…they rode further and further until the whole Field came into view…then the cities were dismantled, humans lived in quiet dignity with the Earth and journeyed to far galaxies on dense energy inclines and currents in the Wilds of open Space. For 40,000 years, until the next fading of the Stream humans became the essence of their deepest, most passionate dreams….all by opening to and knowing the whole Field…No wonder rulers had always guarded knowing. It gave access to the power to do. While the Day of the Field was prevalent, they could keep the power to do in their own hands by controlling what was allowed to be known, acknowledged, and expressed; by controlling who was allowed to receive power from the group and who was to deliver that power. The minute the Stream started returning though, knowing and power could no longer be kept in any one person or group’s hands…it spread to everything and everyone and the human race flowered! But, when the Stream faded again would humans have finally learned how to keep harmony, even in the midst of chaos, so that even though the Stream faded, their harmony would not…would humans choose not to destroy everything they had learned during the Day of the Stream, as they had chosen to destroy it to gain ascendancy over each other every other time before? Would they chose to do what the Hidden ones had always done…keep all knowledge living, share all power?

“You wish to think that far ahead, keep that much in your heart and your mind when making your choices?” asked the eagle rushing past her heart.

“I do,” Marcia asserted.

“Then there is hope for your kind. You are the first one in the 4 million cycles of your races’ history to wish for this,” midnight said. “Live your life from that vantage point henceforth,” she suggested.

“You have never suggested such a course of action to one of my Land before?” Marcia asked in amazement.

“It is not our place to suggest. It is our place to listen, to inform, and to uphold. What you do with the atttention, the information and the power is your choice. This course of action on our parts permits you to develop true to your own abilities and inclinations,” the eagle replied.

“Growing in perfect freedom,” Marcia sighed. Her ecstasy in that moment was so great that she soared up into the sky again, this time without benefit of the eagle mind’s guidance….she saw the Hidden Land dancing beneath her, saw huge streams of energy blazing out in purple, white, veridian, carnelian and a hundred other colors up from the surface of the planet, entwining into one huge stream that jetted out into open space….

“We are heading for Orion 7,” came the voice of the moss, laughing….the moss was with her in her vision! Their minds entwined, “like the thoughts of the Vegans….came an echo from somewhere deep within Marcia’s consciousness!” In delight, she flew through the gleaming night sky of the Hidden Land with her six companions for many hours while her body slept on the moss at the foot of the great Rowan tree thousands of miles away.

“Someday we’ll teach you to take your body with you,” midnight laughed, just as Marcia awakened.

“Soon it will be day,” cinnamon breathed.

“Return to us another time after you have considered all we have shared,” said midnight.

“For this time, return to your home and be safe,” caressed the breeze.

For the first time since she arrived, Marcia looked at her new friends….cream, citrine, copper, black, blue, and green. Each one was dressed very differently. They were humanoid, very human-like actually.

“Are we genetically related,” Marcia wondered.

“Yes, we are. The same genetic stock that seeded the Wayward Land in the Time of the Comets three billion years ago seeded us 300 million cycles ago,” the eagle replied with a great rush of visions – people of the Hidden Land standing on crystal pads pressing their quest into the Stillness, receiving many answers, hopping from star to star, planet to planet, always drawn on by the magnetic resonance of their relative’s DNA.

“Then you did not seed us?” Marcia asked.

“We did not,” laughed the breeze.

“We have traced our stock beyond Antares. We have further to go,” the breeze continued.

“We have been tracking it for many millions of cycles now,” said the citrine-colored being in a voice soft, cool and beautiful. Marcia realized this was the first time she or any of her fellow visitors had actually heard one of these creatures use their voices. Everything else that had transpired between them up to this moment had been entirely in the realm of thought and feeling. She wondered what it would be like to hear them sing.

Then, they began to sing, gently, rippling out, harmonizing her entire being. She felt the electrons in her body begin to slow their spins, then she was held there in absolute stillness…the great Vault of Stillness opened the entirety of Eternity within and around her…she watched in wonder before the swoosh took her….

to be continued…..

related by Lora, Twilit Majz of the Fourth Generation