Swinging and swaying on the HIlls frees the confines of physical space. Blood rises and drops with the curves while the eyes roam the impossible peaks of granite on Needle Highway. Lungs fuel with prana. Life force fortifies a purpose. There is reason in my presence, But I know what for. The faith developed over years of recognition to connection with Gaia.
"Must touch Little Devil's Tower," the message propels me forward. I hadn't even changed out of my uniform from working in the kitchen. The blue pattern leather shoes have thick soles. I cannot enjoy the earth under my feet. I wish I had brought my Vibram toe shoes. I relish the caress of my toes around the shape of Mother.
Uncommon rain refreshes the aroma of earth, with full breath I hike. Mullein reaches tall and proud in family gatherings besides rich, dark pine. The silver underside of Aspen leaves glitter in the breeze. They're celebrating? Feeling the anticipation in the air, I expand my awareness passed my senses, "what am I called here for?"
Giggly shivers heighten the anticipation, still ignorant of the task. I chant, "Sat Nam, Wahe Guru," listening to the crunch of earth under my weight. "Grounding, grounding, grounding," repeating the command in my mind. Reaching deep into Mother and stretching into the firmament, the order is obeyed.
To my right. "What is that?" I hear and feel the pull. This is it. "A Doorway?" The path, littered with mica slices pulses from the rejuvenation of sky water. The boughs of two pine trees lean in, obscuring the way forward. The hair prickles to attention, inflaming awareness.
Crystals play with the light, dancing with the shallow waterfall puddling into the clay, washing stone into glorified striation of earthly hue. The cavern is merely five feet in diameter. The The rain clouds cleared as quickly as they came and a blanket of blue seals the crevasse.
It is death, no not exactly. It is dying? Or draining life. The shadow calls to me from behind the water cascade. The rain has made a wash of the presence so I may enter less bewitched. Drawn toward the empty vacancy, I hesitate. "There is wrongness here," I think. Stepping behind the fluid curtain, feeling the cool sprinkle anoint light in a shimmering shield on my bodies, I take in the scene. Breath ceases. It's a festering wound.
Immediately a horde of malicious waves roll around me. Warning me to stop. Commanding the forces of Light and Love, I fortify my presence. A whine, like a battered animal, reveals the frustration in my challenge of their hold here.
The sodden clay shifts unsteadily under my feet. Sliding forward, the gaping fissure takes form. Mining activity from decades past, abandoned but left its mark, a geometric configuration of a drill. A mammoth size indent is cloaked in shadows of a foreign species that deflected the Light.
Mother grieves here. Intense loss and anger anchor my heart to motivate completion. The entities slam into the Light field. I must not lose more time. Pulling tobacco from half a butt in my pocket, I bless it as an offering.
Calling to the ancient form of the Sentinel, connecting to the heart crystal of Mother, we banish the entities from Mother not to return. Commanding the angel army to assist in their relocation to other realms where they may finish their purpose.
Wails and scraping define the resistance for me as I do not see them right away. Activating full sight, the shadow takes shape. Exoskeleton segments wrap around supple fluidity in body while simian features bare fangs. Mouths agape.
My heart beats hard, forcing retreat. My legs move before I can think. Anchoring Light, with a promise to return, I entreat helpers to continue clearing. Rescuing a mica sliver, before tumbling sloppily out of the crevasse, I felt them on me.
One tenacious intruder, brought here during a time of great disregard for Mother, grabbed the opportunity while I was distracted and in retreat. Laden with malicious intent, it bore into the flesh on my back. Drilling into the base of my skull.
Shallow breath shortens my gait, "Must call for help," hazily I remember how. Reaching into my heart, a rhythm older than Mother thrums, thrashing the the shadow beings into submission, as the angels arrange crystalline transport for them.
