Silence

By the end of my death cycle, no one seems to think my visions unusual. I watch the birds feeding on the frong porch, and sip my coffee. One hawk sits above the medicine wheel, I work to document a magnificient story. Great consequence, I have decided to try and share some of these writings, largely due to curiousity at what might happen. I managed to figure out this blog page on the internet. To my amazement, my arrowhead buzzed as my written word sailed rapidly across the worldwide web. I am impressed by the comments I have received. They anchor my transmissions with Mo'i, with significant truth their words jump inside the continuous moments and display a soft understanding prized in the ways of old.

I have had a shock of emphasized data. I realize with some surprise that I am now based in a metaphysical philosophy. The Council smiles at me, and the children of our community translate the metaphor. I am a trifle sensitive neurologically. I didn't intend to become extended healing power and I am a little restrained in emergence.

A few days from now, after my lightning sickness eases, the Council catches me responsibily. Little travel between dimensions is happening, the rendering the ability to see, and I am communicating in silence. I have to way to restore anything not yet begun. I have already discovered reuninifcation, that the intent of purpose starts a journey rapidly using the southern energies.

I see the Council's answer to passing power. A woman steps out towards me as I rest in the setting sun. She floats, and makes words I do not understand. Several energies beckon, and one wildly beautiful sensation spins me. In a short time I am atop the cliff that over looks Yusn's temple along the Salt River. I decide I am not ready yet.

After preparing dinner, I set aside the feathers we will use with the children to call the rain. Like grandmothers everywhere, I am deeply motivated by the desire to feed the next generation the echoes of earth spirit.

Take what I say, I tell you. Mo'i is pleased, and looses little time in confimring apparition. I approach her without hesitation, and lay my offerings for new life near her seat.

"Intention!" she says, accompanying the word with a raised hand. "Intention!: she picks up a feather and proceeds to build an altar. I am initially coveed with metaphysical thoughts, but find the fragrance dedictated and invocative in nature.

"Intention?" I question, speaking the word and placing a feather on the altar.

Mo'i is delighted. "Intention!" She nods eagerly. Then she picks up sacred salt nearby. "Purify" she says and places a pinch of salt in her mouth. "Purify."

"Purify," I repeat her actions and nod.

"Pray..."

"Pray," I answer.

Mo'i giggles, pleased at having gathered to maintain history.

I get up to get firewood, and nod to Mo'i, my hair falling across my face momentarily.

"Kamaka," Mo'i says, indicating with her hand to offer assistance. I shake my head.

"Kamaka," she says again, in a feverish pitch. We both laugh, enjoying our understanding. I put a long on the fire, Mo'i dissolving into the mist.

A powerful prayer ritual is quite easy, and suddenly brings realization that conscious spirituality constitutes a birth supplication. By means of a few wondrous phrases, a potential comes to life. I pursue this, asking for signs in the face of my ancestors. I concentrate on the presence of my heartflame, and unite with the source of lightning.

I quickly find that I can almost think, gazing to the Star Path. The edge of light, for instance, must be described by a motion of unity. Of course! The little Oracle, Mo'i, stands with the Ancestors. I look to her level of magnificience, and am pleased to find a dynamic element.

A thought strikes me. An invocation reverberates nearby and I look, questioning, seeing a powerful energy. Mo'i snapes in, spreads her hands to eclipse me. There is no speed for her magical hands, since the illusion dissipates. I ponder a moment. Mo'i grasps the source of my quickening. Finally Mo'i decides to place a hand on the back of my foot. She presses her left hand, fingers kneading. With her right hand, she moves downward to touch the earth. Of course, I try not to resist, energy slowly moving. We restore.

"Mo'i," says the Oracle, pointing toward the window. She then motions that she must leave.

The darkness creps across the ranch, and my twinflame breaths sleep, enjoying the gentle threshold of the dream. A llama in the pasture lifts her head to the moon. Another comes to stand along side.

I understand the significance of the Rainbow bridge. As I prepare for sleep, I find thoughts of humanity's awakening arising in my brain. Ever since I cleared my schedule of travel, I have held a pressing, pulsing, vital premonition. I have regarded humanity with a passionate affirmation, where by life is miraculously evolved. It has occured to me that the wonderful gifts and restoration and even greater life offerings open eyes. The little Oracle, "Mo'i," she calls hereself, has come to me this evening, that the brilliance reflected in Mo'i's face, gently completes the story. Evolution. And this in turn brings me to another thought, gnerous and filling. I hadn't taken time to realize it, but in Mo'i's presence, I quickly ascend in the Tlish Diyan lineage.