A Cavernous Hole in Taos (part1)

Carson Forest

Twilight is magic. An intoxicating array of color infuse my senses as I drive through the Carson National Forest just outside Taos, New Mexico. The light defuses into surfaces, penetrating an essence that comes to life only at this time of day. The blue hue of the sky merges with the earthy orange and brown, only to enliven the shadows. It's like classical music for the eyes. My brain fires up lazy neurons, releasing an inebriating cocktail. In a classically verbose inebriated response, I say, "Wow, cool," completely inadequate, I know.

Remembering the tightening of my gut when I made plans to leave the Black Hills, "What is that feeling telling me? Is it another opportunity to reclaim a fragment of my soul?" There's an inexplicable excited anticipation that precedes an event of this magnitude. A child like anticipation ignites the blood in my veins. The inside of my body dances. This was not the same feeling. I did not know what to expect. I was dubious about following through on the plan.

A series of precipitous events urge me with an unfailing trajectory toward Taos. The internal warning I received while still on the ranch in Rapid City did not resurface physically but ruminated in my thoughts. The incongruent weather drew me further south as quickly as possible. I race the snow storm and flee south, south, south.

Within hours the temperature rises to a comfortable sixty degrees. I watched the chunks of ice fly off the hood of the van, splintering into crystals. At dusk I arrive in Taos, the first item of review is the layout of the town. I scope streets for possible nighttime repose. I had an hour to visit locations and find safety for the night. The cobblestone streets and adobe store fronts, heavy with earth and stone combined with floral light and hue. Taos is for the romantic at heart. I was being wooed.

I settled on the Smith's parking lot, a large multi-use store, full of camping gear, cooked food, and groceries. I checked out a few items and some propane. I asked the cashier, "Is it cool to land here for the night? I've been driving all day and I need to rest. Do you have security?" Checking the possibility of harassment, as it rots when I'm all cozy in my pj's and there's strobe lights and a loud, overbearing voice pulls me back into 3D.

Giggling, she responded, "ah, no we don have none of that. It gets rowdy though."

"I am from NYC, street noise is like a lullaby," I respond, with a weird giggle that could be misconstrued as wicked. Finishing my transaction, I report back to the van. It is a safe haven, no matter where I travel. The vortex is anchored securely to the heart of Gaia and directly to Source, shielded by an etheric hum.

I awoke with a considerable joie de vivre. Anxious to begin the exploration of the land, I listen for the story only my heart reveals. Transmuting the sorrows and victories, I offer clearings and assistance when called to do so. Grounding, I check the tires on my bike.

Astride the seat, I momentarily pause to connect to Gaia and ask, "Where?" Immediately, even before another breath leaves my body, I discern the trail. It's close. What it is, I cannot design as proximity is important. In this lifetime, I rely on omnisentience. The development of this modality takes diligent training. Each body response to an environment informs me of the presence of etheric beings or incongruent energies that I might avoid if I am wise.

There are heart twinges that resonate with heartaches of all varieties. This muscle has its own intelligence, apart from the mind wisdom. It interprets grief, pain, suffering, and injustice. Humans are wrought with these emotional transitions. Luckily the focus of my sensitivity lies in the deposit of emotion on the land. I fell into this skill by fortunate accident in the Black Hills as I formed a relationship with the Sentinel, my soul brother. We are Earth Keepers.

I followed the lines of energy directly to a church. It is not uncommon for cruelty to have happened in the the name of god. I leaned my bike against a stone wall separating it from the mall parking lot. A very american configuration where church and commerce intermingle, I note to myself. Of course when most people come to visit Taos this is not on their destination list.

The single room a-frame wooden dwelling had a massive chimney, a small cross over the screen door. The windows, one at each side was the cheap aluminum style of the 1970's. Probably the last time they got aid from the government to improve the structure. It was unwelcoming, slovenly and silent.

I stood and waited to feel something. Nothing by the front door, but the back? I kick up brown dust making my way around. There wasn't even an abandoned flower bed. I approached the slated, dried cactus fence about 20 feet across a flat, dry yard. Too early in the season for weeds to proliferate, it was like walking into a sepia tint universe.

I cleared the end of the building but only just and was consumed with a heaviness in my heart. The pain grew. It felt like quicksand, crushing my organs. I acknowledged the presence. Demanding aid from my team, we backed away. With space, I afford myself a chance to call for help while simultaneously creating a vortex.

Archangel Metatron has integrated into my intimate team. The structural integrity of the vortex is enhanced by the Metatronic cube, a sacred geometric tuning fork. Math and music are inseparable. I anchor the cube into the land within the vortex to support the vibrational clearing. Any tendrils of a similar energy that needs clearing is identified through tonal recognition.

The Sentinel combines their seismic scalar maneuver to the basic architecture. A holographic multiplication of their identity surrounds the periphery. They immerse up to their knees in the Earth's crust. Combining the effort of each form, they bind their hands together in molecular symmetry. No longer are the individuals separate. There is an exponential increase as the movement organizes the surrounding organic material, creating access to quantum space where the anchor for the corruption resides.

In the few experiences I've had, the entities in the area are lethargic and surprised when I call Archangel Michael and his Legions to clear the area. This one didn't overwhelm. It was just heavy.

As the support crew begins to release the stuck souls and escort them to an alternate platform to finish their contracts, details of their narrative culminate. The source of the pain bubbles into my mind with artistic clarity.

The early daylight filled the wrinkles of bark with an unnatural depth. A shed, about 10 x 5, leaning against a large fir tree, there are humans inside. I do not move from the front of the church but I witness from my gift of knowing. A silent terror etched into their dusty cheeks, frozen in fear, they huddled. Cold and hungry, the oldest near six, shielding the young with her frail body.

A violent tornado descended, whipping the faces into dust storms. I didn't know I was holding my breath until it flew out of me as if aiding in the flight of the children. In the immediate liberation from their prison, they had no resistance to the angelic presence. Light floods through all time and space and the angelic teams assist in relocating them for the continuance of their process on another plane of reality.

The coexistence of the trapped souls who bred the dominance, battled the rescuers concurrently. Their contracts were to integrate the pain onto the land. Passed timeline, they won the original battle and continue to have access, until recently. The chronology shifted.

The manipulators exist in shadow. Their features are skewed in the desperate attempt to preserve their mission. The jack-o-lantern visage grimaced with vacant eye sockets. The chasm held an endless deep prepared to severe any grasp of hope. The smokey wisps of malevolent limbs entangle the essence of angelic bodies of the Legion. Piercing shards of quantum beams roll through the fog of desolation.

The sudden request for the Angelic Legions subverted any organized defense. Light pierces through the struggle, sending reverberating shivers through my form. I intensify the request for more Light energy to further weaken their resistance. All incarnations have a contract. It is not through any judgement that these beings are released from the land. Gaia's sovereignty aligns with the awakening of the Earth Keeper mission.

The murk dissipates. The Sentinel, Metatron and the Legions orchestrate through symmetry. The space created by the toning aids the penetration of the angelic light.

The Legions encapsulate the thrashing entities and transport them off Gaia to finish their processing. The density continues to clear into wave resonance.

The reverberation rolls through the land as the work is complete. I reclaim the human form and ground. Wriggling digits, breathing long and full, I dare to open my eyes. It's like glittery dew outlines the clarity in the land and the church building. Overjoyed by the reflection of light now shared in the land and in my heart. I am complete for now.