Mining the Alluvial Mine — Day 10

Mining the Alluvial Mine — Day 10 March 18, 2007
Posted by Barbara in Lemurian Grand Tour, Barbara’s Journey, Mining. add a comment , edit post

Do I enter the mine or do I return to Riversleigh feeling like a quitter? Damascus will be disappointed if I don’t reappear and tell him of my explorations and discoveries. I don’t want him to think poorly of me. Why, my feelings run quite deep for my mule. I want him to be proud of me.

“Okay,” I mutter to myself. “I’ll go through the door and enter the mine.” I swallow hard, pick up my tools and blow out the candle. Taking my first steps into the cavern, its brightness makes me wish for sunglasses. I shade my eyes with my free hand and gaze around me. The ceiling is covered with massive crystallized stalactites; the walls with bits of sparkling jewels in a myriad of colors. Red, green, blue, purple, yellow, orange. I do not know the many different jewels’ names, but I am in awe of their beauty.

I look about the floor, searching for some sort of guide. The ground is covered with crushed jewels, demarcating several paths, each in a different hue. A red path switchbacks down the steep incline into the pit of the room. A green path on my left gradually rises up, hugging close to the eastern wall, and leads into a dark tunnel. A yellow passage creeps away from me, hugging the side of the cave and traveling around the edge of the bottomless hole. It follows the western wall and also disappears into a black passageway. I study the pathways carefully, trying to decipher the mystery of the cavern’s jeweled ground. Which trail shall I follow? I glance back at the doorway considering a quick escape, but the door is closed. Did it close itself? Did Maria close it? I have many unanswered questions.

I startle when I see a swooping shadow cross the vacuous space and dive towards me and duck under my arms. Then I sigh in relief when I see Pigeon settling in front of me. He scratches about in the loose crystals, then looks me in the eye.

“Pigeon, where have you been. Were you exploring? Any suggestions?” I take a few steps on the green passage, but Pigeon blocks my way, flapping his wings and squawking raucously.

“If you are so wise, show me the way.” I pause to see if Pigeon will give me direction. I am eager for any sign, for I cannot fathom which direction is the way. What illumination am I looking for anyway? “Come on, Pigeon. Where shall I go? I wish you could speak!”

Pigeon lands gently on my shoulder and pecks at me affectionately. Then he flies along the descending path. This is the very passage I want to avoid, but I do not want to hesitate and lose the trail of Pigeon. The luminosity of the cavern darkens as I peer over the edge of the pit. I cannot see its bottom.

I search my pack until I find a cylinder containing long, wooden matches. It is fortunate I kept hold of the candlestick and candle. I light the candle and prepare to descend. Am I to come face to face with my demons? I shudder and feel damp and cold. Again I reach into my handy tool pack and grab a heavy sweater and a woolen cap. I am ready, again. I can still see Pigeon’s wings flapping ahead.

My heavy work boots and jeans protect my legs as I carefully pick my way through giant crystal boulders and ledges, following the lead of Pigeon. Halfway down, I catch myself from falling by grabbing a rock, and cut my hand on the razor sharp points. Again I reach into my pack and search for a bandage and canvas gloves. Again I find what I am looking for. I begin to think I possess a magic pack. It provides whatever need.

I continue to watch my bird closely. He has led me before and I followed without question. I do not doubt his ability, although I cannot fathom how he knows the answers.

He continues to lead me down into the deep, and I regain some of my courage as we descend. After several hours, we reach the bottom. Then the going is rough because the jewel stalagmites cover much of the floor. Again the sharp points cut my exposed skin. I keep moving further and further into the depths of the caverns, until Pigeon leads me into a small clearing. With relief I lean my pack against a stalagmite and i sit down, leaning against my pack.

With rest, I become calmer than I have felt since entering this mysterious land. I seem to lose my uncertainty and my weariness as I journey into the depths. My eyes focus: I am infused with a curiosity I have never felt, a thirst for the nectar of creativity, the stirring of an overfull cauldron of knowledge. The struggle I endured in this land has come to fruition.

I pull the tiny wings from le Enchanteur’s bag, let Pigeon perch on my finger, and fly gracefully to the entrance. The door is ajar. I hurry through the corridor and pull away the overgrowth that hides the cave’s opening opening.

Damascus sees me and hee-haws with joy Pigeon and I race to his side. Again I rub my face into his shaggy mane, but this time I am crying with laughter, not fear and sorrow. We rejoice together as I tell Damascus of my discoveries.

“Where do we go now, Damascus?” I look around, anticipating good times to come.

“Just up the road, Dear. Not far away. Only minutes, really.” Damascus sniffs.

“Minutes,” I say. “Where are we going in only minutes?”

“Why, Dear, you have completed this leg of your journey. I now deliver you to the portal which leads to Riversleigh Mansion. Only steps away from tits back door, actually.” Damascus sniffs again.

“And, Damascus, what about you? When will I see you again?” I hold back my tears, rather unsuccessfully.

“Why, Dear,” replies Damascus carefully. “You will see me in your dreams, in your thirst for knowledge, in your quest to create what you see in your heart. You will see me often.”

“But, Damascus…”

“Look. Here we are. Now off you go, you and Pigeon. Through the passage, and then you’ll be safe without me. No good-byes, now. We’ll see each other again.”

I peek through the portal, and I can see the back of the Mansion. At the last moment, I turn towards Damascus. I must say good-bye.

I scan the surroundings, but I cannot see him.

He is gone.

Going Deeper In

Well, the Enchanteur has allowed me to join the journey around Lemuria. I am quite glad, because those who have lived here longer keep referring to things that are mysteries to me. I am quite excited! I pull out the backpack that I put away when I first arrived here, hot and dusty and thirsty for the sort of refreshment of the soul that one finds at Riversleigh, and start tossing in odds and ends. I don’t want to make it too heavy, but there are just some things I can’t leave without.

My journal goes in first, along with my favorite pens. I decide to toss in a backup journal, too. You just can’t have too much paper. Then there is a small blank-book without lines and my colored pencils. I keep telling my self that I will begin to draw again, and this may be a good time to do it. My wooden flute, a small package with my sock needles and some lovely shaded blue wool, and some spare woolly socks go in next. A change of clothing and a few toiletries follow; oh, these necessities for day to day living- I wish they didn’t take up quite so much space. And then, just because sometimes you need technology, a digital camera and a spare memory card. My bag is starting to look a little stuffed now, but I add small sachet of lavender because it smell so good, and a little worry stone for my pocket. I dig into my wardrobe and come up with a decent hat to wear. I will not take anything to read- this is hard for me, but I think I will be writing enough that I will not need take a book.

There! Now I am ready to go! I lean out the window and say goodbye to the butterfly man should he be listening, and shut the window behind me. I will be back soon, full of adventures and fresh tales for telling.

But what now? I mean, I am already at Riversleigh, already in Lemuria. How do I go on from here? I shrug, and remember the proverb that a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. I suppose that I should begin my journey by opening the door to my room and stepping through it. Then I will start to walk. I know the Enchanteur will find me soon enough and make sure I go where I need to be.

I open the door to my room- that infamous portal that goes to all sorts of places, and find that Enchanteur has used my own device against me. There is a mirror there, filling the entire door way. I see myself reflected in it, but not the room behind me. Instead, there is a grayish mist. I don’t look quite right, either. I look kind of- lopsided. I take stock of the reflection carefully, and find that what the mirror had done is exaggerate my, well, I won’t call them flaws, but my sticking points. Things that, if I work on them, will change me more into the person I want to be. I will need to accept these things if I want to journey deeper into Lemuria. I will find out more about myself as well as this wonderful land.

 These sticking points are not things I am happy to look at, much less deal with. I take a deep breath and poke at the image with my finger. My finger sinks into the surface of the mirror, and little ripples go out into the rest of the image. I realize that I am stalling. There is no help for it. If I want to go on this tour, and I do, I will have to take a close and careful look at this reflection of myself, and step through it.  In going deeper into Lemuria, I will also go deeper into myself. I open my eyes wide, and with one more deep breath, I step into the mirror image of myself.

I have a sensation like swimming, and an icy cold sweeps through me. I quickly surface, and find myself out in Lemuria, away from my beloved room at Riversleigh. The mirror is gone, but I feel something new in my pocket. I reach in, and alongside the worry stone is a small metal disc. It bears the image I saw in the mirror, but  a little changed. Apparently, I have changed just by stepping through that portal. It will be interesting to see how it changes as I travel along.

I trip over a small bag on the ground at my feet. It has all sorts of things inside it, and I poke around, examining each item. What will I need the spectacles for? Dream seeds? That sounds intriguing. Candlestick, unicorn medallion, an anchor, wings? Strange and interesting things.

I tuck the bag in my back pack and take stock of my surrounding. It seems to be a cool autumn day, with the sun getting low on the horizon. I am in a lush meadow on a hill side, with wooded hills rolling away in the distance and a river flowing through the valley below me. There is a track going into the distance, and I step onto it willingly, walking along with a happy stride.

I

A Portal Passage — Day 2

 

As goodbyes from the Riversleigh Manor residents still reverberate in the distance, deep fog in the woodsy landscape swirls about me. I find myself taking cautious steps, arms outstretched in front of me. Within minutes my hands touch a damp wall of mossy wet granite. I am perplexed; I do not remember rock formations in this part of the forest. The mist turns into rain, but luck is with me, for I fdiscover an opening in the rock. I duck into the drippy hole, a small cave in which I can barely kneel upright. As I move further inside the space diminishes, until I can only continue by slithering on my belly.I push my pack through the hole, wriggling it back and forth until it slides forward. Then Pigeon struts through, flapping its wings in excitement. But before I can follow, there is a firm tap on my back. I look into the shadows and am surprised to see le Enchanteur motioning for me to come to her.

 

“I have a gift for your journey, my dear. See? A tiny bag,” she says, smiling and holding a silken pouch towards me.

Curious, I inch towards her. I open the bag’s tie strings, emptying its contents on a clean cloth she has spread upon my lap. There is a tiny metallic paper packet marked ‘Ten Dream Seeds. Use with care!’ Then I find a pair of spectacles, old-fashioned granny glasses, but I see nothing remarkable when I gaze through the lenses. Next I pull out a candlestick, (why a candlestick?), a tiny anchor which is surprisingly heavy in my palm, a well-worn medallion with the imprint of a faded Unicorn on it, and a set of miniature wings which unfolds like a very large map. I catch a speck of writing on one of the wings. There IS a map imprinted lightly on the nylon mesh. A double use — a set of wings and a map combined! “How clever,” I whisper to myself.

Le Enchanteur hears me and dips her head slightly. “One more gift,” she says in a pleased voice.

I search in the bag and in one of the corners, I find a wee bit of gossamer. Opening it in my hand, I discover a pair of amber scissors set with crystal blades.

“Be careful. They are so sharp they can cut through a brick of diamond ,” cautions le Enchateur, “and do not let this bag out of your site. Hang it around your neck and keep it well-hidden until it is needed.”

I place the pouch under my shirts, resting it against my heart. When I look up to thank le Enchanteur, I see only the swish of her cape as she disappears into the rain. Breathing heavily, I return to squiggling through the hole. Ahead I see Pigeon illuminated by light, watching and waiting for me.

I finally poke my head into the light, blinking my eyes as I pull myself through the portal. I am awe-stricken. Before me lies the land of Lemuria. I lean my back against the cave’s wall to catch my breath and nearly fall. There is nothing but air behind me. The hole has evaporated into space. I am alone in a mystical country of strangers with no means of returning to familiar land.

I think of this only momentarily. Then all of my senses are magnetized. As my eyes adjust, I see I am surrounded by pure light, but it is a light without sun. The luminosity is spread across an endless sky. I wonder if night ever falls in Lemuria.

A breeze drifts across my face, singing a whistling melody. I strain to hear the sound as it fades, then crescendos, then fades again. Aromas float in the air — a mild scent of mint and lavender. I become even more aware of my surroundings — it is forever a greenery of shrubbery and plants of all types, sizes, and color. I recognize only a few common herbs, nothing else in all of this vast region.

I take a step back, stunned with the beauty surrounding me. And suddenly I gasp in surprise. I bump into rock — again! I turn around and see that I am standing on a rocky outcropping protruding from a tall mountain. I now understand why the view has become so magnificent. I am high and I can see everything succulent and lush, shining in its glory. The country feels welcoming; I feel relaxed.

Gradually I feel drowsy. I sink down onto the rock ledge, lean against the mountain, and use my pack as a pillow. I sleep deeply. Until I am jolted awake by a deafening sound.

« Visit Potsdam An Introduction to Damascus, the Donkey Day 3 »

Through the Portal

The Portal

Behold Oera Linda

I would suggest/request that all Lemurians
read various available e-articles on “Oera Linda”
Please notice that thosew riting about Oera Linda and attacking
perceived inaccuracies, contain as many inaccuracies,
and bias as well.

Considered by some to be either completely fictional,
or an exercise in ‘reverse-engineering’ of early history,
recent photographs from space have verified
some of the ‘stories’. Additionally, the excavation
of Kergan burial mounds has provided direct links
to the writers of this book to ‘truths’ revealed.

At least, one might consider that the ‘myths’
contained in this book have as much basis in truth
as other accounts of early history (including the Old Testament).

examples:

The Friesians (Netherlands) originally came from Troy

Their description of Atlantis type events (Lemuria also)
are CORRECTLY set at between 2190-2234 BCE,
though they place the island in the Baltic Sea.

Their description of historic events like the
rise of Attila the Hun are probably more accurate
than other writings. (what you were taught)

The existence of giant craters in South America are
described accurately – in a book written about 600 AD!;
plus the knowledge that the two ‘Americas’ were once
separate, and that the joining with a land bridge
would destroy many forms of life.

…………………………………………………………………

Trigor will write of some of this on the “Grand-Tour’,
but no one should miss out on these revelations and ‘facts’.
As noted previously, one value of a myth is that it may challenge
traditional thinking and beliefs.

faucon

Lonely Portal

 

A lonely portal in a wild land………….

 

Image:  Lori Gloyd (c) 2006

Day One – the Portal beckons

“I’m late, I’m late for a very important date! No time to say hello, goodbye. I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!” – The White Rabbit, “Alice in Wonderland”

Oh so behind – I am only leaving for the portal now. The others are far ahead. I hope I can find my way…

I sling my bag over my shoulder, rather like the Fool about to step off the cliff – innocent, carefree, bright-eyed and brimming with enthusiasum.

I’m not sure where to find my portal, but my path winds on. Through the lush green rainforest I walk. I have a sense that I am in the right place, but where is the portal?

Then I spy the stranger. This person is cloaked and hooded from top to toe. I don’t know if it is a man or woman, or even human. The stranger is holding a lantern, very like the Hermit of the Tarot. A pale hand motions for me to follow.

The stranger doesn’t say a word, and neither do I. I follow the cloaked figure for several minutes until, quite suddenly, the figure stops. A finger points ahead to a tree.

Here. The portal is here – I just know it. This tree is hollowed, split, rather like a mother opening her womb to release her babe. I look back at the stranger to say thank you, but the figure has vanished.

I approach the tree, and step inside her gaping mouth. It’s large enough to fit two or three people. Feeling the rough outer lips and the smooth inner cavity, I look up, and see that the hollow runs right up to the top of the tree. I can see the sky.

I pause a moment – I’m not sure how to make this portal “work”. Do I need to “press” a section of the tree to open a door, like in “The Princess Bride”? Will the floor of soil and sticks drop from beneath me, letting me tumble like Alice did? Ooh, I hope the fall won’t be far…

In the end, it’s all much simpler than that. I turn around, to look at the forest path I’ve just come from…and it’s not there. The landscape has changed. Instead of a forest, I come face to face with a field of grass and vivid purple flowers.

I’ve done it – I’m in Lumeria.

blessings from the WiccanGal

finding the portal

Today I found the portal when I was walking through the forest towards the lake. This seems to be a portal which is very elusive and when it is looked for it never appears. So, this morning I set my intention and then deliberately busied myself with other things- baking a chocolate cake, washing and shopping. And then just when I was planning what to wear to work tomorrow – bang – it all became totally irrelevant as I found myself wandering a path which definitely was not of this world. a path where squirrels looked at me with intelligence and curiosity and where the ravens were gathering ahead of me on the path. As I approached,  the ravens flew away, but I found the l’Enchanteur had left my small bag of talismans for me. Smiling, I picked it up and tucked it away safely into the folds of my robe - a closely fitting  dress in soft pinks and purples with a rainbow necklace and a soft warm wrap - definitely not what I was wearing this morning!! Its good to be back in this land.

peacebird

Through the Portal

My companion and I set sail on a graceful sailing ship for Lemuria. I felt sorry for the sailors who had to load our trunks on board. Since this journey is to be taken in the grand style, I have packed a lot of items for sightseeing – binoculars, camera, a stout walking stick and a travel journal.
My companion is none other than Edith Wharton. I have long admired her writing and was thrilled when she agreed to accompany me on the tours. I have packed a couple of her books in my trunk, which she finds quite amusing. She is greatly looking forward to seeing Lemuria, which she already feels is her spiritual home, and meeting Le Enchanteur.
Passing from our world into Lemuria is a mystical experience at any time, but it is simply magical by sea. My companion and I didn’t want to miss a moment, so we took deck chairs and made ourselves comfortable as we approached the portal into Lemuria.
At first all we could see was a low lying mist on the horizon – but as we drew closer we saw two immense pillars soaring out of the sea. We passed between them and for a time saw nothing at all – then the mist cleared and we grasped each other’s hands in excitement. On the other side of the pillars the sea is a deep, crystal blue and we could see the shapes of swift dolphins running beside the packet, darting from one side of the hull to the other.
We had made reservations at the Hotel Atlantis, that last remaining remnant of the drowned continent. Surrounded by ocean, it stands off the Lemurian shores like a lone jewel on a sheet of blue silk.
Before the fall of Atlantis, the hotel was a palace, but now it is one of the most exclusive of resorts. It is fearfully expensive, of course, but as I said to my companion, this is the tour of a lifetime. We are going first class.
The ship docked at the foot of a mighty set of white marble steps rising like a frozen wave out of the sea. Our trunks were whisked up to the hotel by strong young porters and we followed at a more leisurely pace.
I was given a room overlooking the open sea, while my companion requested one with a view of the Lemurian shoreline. The rooms are quite sumptuous, with painted frescos on the walls, depicting scenes of Old Atlantis. Mine showed a Spring Rite, with young girls and boys festooned with flowers, running hand in hand through the hills of Old Atlantis. How beautiful it was, with strange flowers and trees the like of which I have never seen. The canopied bed contained a surprise – a small brightly coloured bag containing items I had seen before on previous journeys – a packet of dream seeds, spectacles, a candlestick, a tiny anchor, a medallion with the imprint of the Unicorn and a set of wings. There was also one other item, a tiny silver flute. I piped a few tentative notes – it had a sweet plaintive sound, like the Pan Pipes of South America.
I took a welcome bath after my journey – the bath is a spa fed from the ocean itself, and it is very invigorating. I changed into clean clothes and went out to meet my companion for dinner. I found her under the great dome at the top of the hotel, gazing at a golden statue of The Goddess. She stands with a jug of water on her shoulder, the water pouring down into a stream flowing at her feet.
Dinner was an exquisite meal, served on one of the great balconies that surround the hotel, with the Lemurian shore as a backdrop. The table was piled high with mounds of fruit, fresh baked bread and the most delicious cheese. My companion and I ate heartily, as we watched the boats plying between the Hotel Atlantis and the Lemurian shore. We made the acquaintance of other travelers, and discussed our hopes for the journey. Relaxing under the mighty pillars with icy cold rainbow coloured drinks, we watch the sunset in a blaze of red and gold. Our adventure has begun.

Boarding Pass