Sloughing — Day 9 March 17, 2007
Posted by Barbara in Lemurian Grand Tour, Barbara’s Journey. add a comment , edit post
Damascus stops under the willow trees near the cave entrance. He shakes himself so violently that the bag of tools slides from his back. My pack is also dumped onto the hard, crackled ground. The heat is becoming unbearable as I shoulder the tools, reach instinctively to touch le Enchanteur’s bag hanging around my neck and take deep breathes. My palms are sweaty and I feel the beginnings of a migraine banging around inside my head. Stress always gives me a headache.
Damascus noses me away from him and towards the entrance. “Go. I will wait for your return. Remember the secret door to Riversleigh behind the Mine Keeper’s chair. You may choose the other way and escape from this mysterious mountain in Lemuria. It is not a choice I would make, but it is always available.” His voice wanders off into nothingness as he gazes towards the mountain peak. Eventually his attention returns to me.
“You may take Pigeon. If for some reason you cannot continue, send Pigeon with a message to let me know. There are always other travelers coming who require a companion.” He turns his back to me and takes a couple of steps. Then he turns his head slightly. “Please return, Dear. I know you can complete the journey. Have faith and take one step, then another. I will be awaiting your return.”
I rush to Damascus’ side and throw my arms around his neck. Burying my face into his shaggy mane, I cry until I have no more tears. My head is exploding with pain. I do not want to leave Damascus and the comforts of the Valley.
“Dear, it is time. You must go in the mine now. Your assistant, Maggie, is awaiting your appearance.”
I know I have delayed too long. I again shoulder the pack of tools and stumble my way to the cave, my eyes still blurred by tears. Pigeon flies ahead, then waits for my approach. As I pull the overgrowth from the entrance, he alights on my shoulder and pecks my cheek. I swallow hard and step into the darkness. It is cool, a relief from the heat, but the smell is dank.
“Hello, Dear. Hello, Pigeon” The slightly lilting voice of a figure in the shadows greets me. “I have been waiting for you. Follow me, but first don’t forget your candle.”
I go to the table by the Keeper’s chair and find candles, just as I did on my first visit. One of the candles catches my attention. It is glowing slightly, it’s wick flickering ever so faintly. I take that candle and remove the candlestick holder from my bag. Once the candle is in the holder, it begins to burn brightly and casts a warm glow about the cave. I look to Maggie and she briefly smiles, a thin wavering smile. “Well done. Now follow me, please.”
She quickly sweeps down the long hall. I follow her, pain banging harder against my skull with each step. Midway down the hall, I can no longer walk unaided. I close my eyes in pain and drop my pack of tools, but when I lean against the damp roughness of the cave I feel a slight pulsing. Under the pressure of my hand, the power increases with each surge.
I open my eyes, wincing. The pulsing of the wall matches the pulsing of the pain in my head. I continue to touch the wall and feel its pulse grow stronger as the pulsing in my head disappears. The wall heaves violently and a dull redness creeps into its crevasses. A darkness hovers against the wall. It is the shadow I have owned since my earliest years. With all my concentration, I slough the shadow in its entirety from my soul. The darkness leaves me and it is sucked into the glowing rock. There is a sudden lightness in my body. Shaking with new energy, I run deeper into the cave to search for Maggie. She has continued down the corridor, unaware that I was lagging behind.
As I catch up to her, she suddenly stops. I trip over her feet and am thrown against a heavy wooden door. In the light from my candle, I see red ochre sketches on the wall — symbols — some of which I recognize. A bull, a ring, a serpent. A fish, a spear and many others figures that resonate with me, even though I cannot place their meaning. I feel a sudden fullness that I cannot explain.
Maggie pulls a piece of red chalk, darkened with age, from one of her many pockets. “Here. This is for your use.” Then she simply waits. Save for a slight dripping of water, the cave is silent. I know I must make my mark upon the wall of many marks, yet what should I draw? I do not know what is expected of me.
Slowly the hint of an idea creeps into my mind. I do not have to draw what I think is expected. I need simply draw that which is a part of me. Only I can know that my symbol is right. Hesitating no longer, I find an open area and render a simple drawing of a flame.
Before I can return the chalk to Maggie, she has disappeared. As I hesitate with uncertainly, a draft of heat draws my attention towards the door. Carved upon its surface is a hand print. I place my hand upon the print; they fit together perfectly. A slight tremble shakes the entire cave and the door swings open slowly. Pigeon, the daring bird he is, darts through the opening. I peek into the interior and I am awe-stricken. Before me is a intricately carved cavern that I can barely believe exists. Do I enter or do I return to the portal to Riversleigh?
an offering – peacebird
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