Chapter 2 - Initiation

It was my time to evolve. The previous evening my relations had been waiting for me, eyes expectant and shining. "Are you ready for your new form?" my father had asked, happy and ready. I relaxed. "Yes", surprisingly easy to say, and my father had relaxed some more.
It was the morning and I knew from the knowledge that had been carefully revealed to me, that I knew nothing but had the tools to make this transition. I was confident, but knew I was only humanoid and mistakes could be made. It didn't have to be done well but it had to be done. I was only human. I repeated part of my mantra, my song; "Strong....maintain......strong......maintain......". I steadied, came back to the now and started my rhythm. Choices to be made and I wanted to make the right ones. Today of all days.
For protection, I chose sunglasses and a black animal-hide jacket. I knew the route. Up Bourne Lane, where the underground spring fed stream would offer more protection, to the Crossways Corner transport hub; perhaps the beginning of another journey. I would know when I got there.
I closed the door of the compound quietly behind me, leaving the rest of the family at peace, and struck out on my own. "Strong.....maintain......". They were safe behind the green door.
I remembered the words of Michael, "...look, earth and roots, and water", holding the green turf firmly in his five year old hand.
I was through the first gate and down the steps and walking up Bourne Lane. Greeting everything with a cordial hallo; the birds, the insects, the airborne shuttles. Listening for calls and replies. Filling the spaces left for me, for my voice to add to the music of the morning. Nothing could stop me now, I was on my way with the confidence of youth.
"Are you the new one?", my neighbour falteringly enquired from behind his hedge as I passed, eyes hidden. Safe from behind my sunglasses, I turned towards him and bobbed my head as I had been shown, an earth-robin had finally pushed the lesson home. He relaxed some. "Yes, but my father is still there, he's okay." I replied. My neighbour relaxed some more. My father's house, the family compound, was a place of power as signified by it's size and space in comparison to the immediate neighbours. The last thing they wanted was a psychopathic killer in the big house. I didn't need to kill my father to evolve. The last thing they wanted was a tyrant in the big house. I didn't need to break my father to evolve.
In the holy books of our people, it is said that we had come from a different realm. A different place in space and time. After the terraforming of this planet, the mothership; after the first souls arrived, there had been a fusion of the old and the new, a con-fusion, that left the old culture in pieces. With each generation we re-created a new culture of one, a synthesis of the old and new knowledge. A culture of one, individual to us, that added to the dreamtime, the culture of many. It was time for my voice to be heard. I quivered in anticipation. Heights in-deed.
Back to my song, my mantra.
"Now
Bless the children for their guidance......"
"Thankyou Michael."
My feet moved without breaking stride from the dry to the wet earth that lay thinly on the grey surface of the road. Nature suppressed but not vanquished as evidenced by the abundance of green around me. It was good. It was reassuring to know more protection lay only a few strides away.
"Strong.....maintain....."
"Watch out for the transports," I had been told.
I listened.
"Hallo dog, hallo bird, hallo plane....
Oh yeah"
My mantra, my song.
The first corner was ahead. The sound of a ground transport added it's sound to the rhythms of life all around me. I faltered and stood on the wet green turf beside the road. Jazz. The morning dew. But sweetly, on time, in the beat. I listened.
"I was only human, and I was allowed to make mistakes."
My mantra, my song.
The Savages lived here. Was it them. I backtracked, keeping to the wet earth. A red vehicle came round the corner. I could see the driver but he couldn't see me behind the sunglasses. I couldn't see him behind his eyes. I nodded a greeting. He half-greeted me back, "Who was I?"
The transport slid smoothly by. I moved on, open, no fear, no looking back, in thought and deed, my song, my mantra.
"Now
Thank the ancestors"
I was past the first corner. But was it the right way? I stopped. On wet earth.
"Thankyou Michael."
There was another route to Crossways Corner. Over wet earth, through nature. I backtracked past the first corner.
"One step forward, two steps back"
"Thankyou Uncle Bob." A master of fusion from his cells to his song. ( Thankyou Lord Perry I later discovered. )
"Thankyou in-deed."
In the rhythm, on the pulse, I made my song and made my way like the old ones, greeting everything in my path, blind corners to pass. I looked up and towards the light, opened my body and felt the energy course through me. Nothing bad happened. I felt good. Another gate ahead. Half open. Wood. Natural. I passed through.
"Thankyou ancestors, thank you first ones."
My mantra, my song.
The valley was ahead. I stood beneath a tree and listened. Making my song, my culture of one. The Savages house was there in the distance, the fields, the lines of trees. Beneath my garments my old skin was stripping away. I took off my jacket.
My mantra, my song.
"Now
Forward in these generations"
I moved forward.
"I thank all those before me, and all those after me."
Who else could I thank? Everyone.
I couldn’t name them all.
"I thank the first ones."
My mantra ,my song.
The Australians, the first ones to step out. 140 000 years of vibrations.
"All those before me, and all those behind me."
It was all of us or none of us.
"I’m only human, it’s alright to make mistakes, that’s jazz."
It didn’t have to be done well, it just had to be done.
I took off my footwear. Feet on the dew wet green grass. Toes in the earth.
On the beat in the beat. Listening, greeting, call and reply.
I give you my mantra, I give you my song.

Now
Thank the children for their guidance
Now
Thank the ancestors for getting us here
Now
Thank those that are before us
Now
Thank those that are behind us
Now
Forward in these generations
Now
Listen
Now

We’re only human
So we’re allowed to make mistakes
That’s jazz.

Now

We have all the time we need

Now
Strong, Maintain, Relax
Now
One race
No race
The human race

Now

One race
No race
That’s no race
The human race

Now

Do what you want
When you want
How you want
And cleanheart, sweetheart
Nothing bad will happen

Eat well
Sleep well
Remember to breathe

Listen.

I had made it across the open field and through the gate, I was past the Savages house, I was through the field of wheat and standing at the final gate. I turned around to look at the way I had come. I knew what I had to do and I was ready to see what lay beyond the Crossways Corner. How far would I go and what would be required of me. Fear was strong in me but I stood my ground, then I took off my green shirt, lay it down and stepped through the gate. Shining and brand new I felt relieved and moved forward up the final slope towards the Crossways Corner transport hub. As I did so a woman with a large earth-dog appeared on the path I was going to join. She stopped when she saw me and the dog looked at me quizzically. I covered my new form with my hands and said, "It’s my birthday." She smiled and said , "Haven’t you got anything better to do?" She carried on past me towards the top. The dog looked round every now and then. She didn’t look back. I looked over her shoulder to my destination. It was crowded. There were several large transports, that meant a lot of people. If I appeared in my natural form I would be seen and stopped by the authorities. They would never allow it and my journey would be over. I would be locked up. Is that what I had to do? I wasn’t sure and I had been seen. An agricultural vehicle was heading back towards the Savages in the fields below me. Had they seen me? I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go on. I turned back, but not through the gate. Over the fence and through the trees. My new skin was scratched. I was in the field of wheat and my heart was racing, my temple pounding. I had to get back to the path. There was my shirt. Using my mantra and my song I got away. Had Babylon won, had the devil tricked me? I hadn’t lost my soul. It wasn’t over yet.

Chapter 3 - The Year Before

I have started on a path that isn’t charted, only words and intuitions guide me. Words are not truth but as a friend once said, "they are the best tool we have."
From rebel youth deciding to contribute nothing to a corrupt society, to ten years of apathy and withdrawal, to one months travel in Central America (dragged there by another). A crystal found in the sand (a gift from the earth), the words "you’ve got the light" and four days in the forest are sending me back on more travels. Signs and portents abound. Pure joy and faith have been replaced by uncertainty and doubt of my previous experiences but I am going back to Belize to find out more. The forest calls, new love beckons. I think I can help and be helped. My house has gone, my relationships are crumbling. The future is somewhere else.
Everything I have ever wanted or desired has always crossed my path and I have had to make the choices. So often I fail, so often I don’t help, so often I don’t make the connections; but when I do, it’s all love.

There is a way to the future through the old ways. Not a step backward or a return to the past, just the old way of doing the new things.

I was going travelling. I hadn’t been for twelve years. The last time I had been in a faraway country with a different culture and people had been in Thailand. I had ended up sitting in a village hut on stilts somewhere in the north during one of those walk, elephant-ride, raft treks. The village children were fascinated by the one African-American tourist in our trek group. The children followed him around and every now and then he would turn around, raise his hands like claws and roar like a lion and all the children would run away screaming and laughing and smiling.
I was sitting in this hut on stilts and I felt thirsty. I asked for a drink and was sent off to find a hut up the hill. It was quiet in the village. Just the dirt road, wooden thatched houses, some on stilts, the forest and hills and a little mist. Nobody around. At the top of the hill was a building unlike the others, more like an English scout hut. There was that familiar picture of a European Jesus with big eyelashes, long hair and a radiant heart. The house next door was the one I wanted. I went in and asked about a drink. In the corner of the hut was a shiny red and white fridge. A coca-cola fridge. I opened the door and it was full of coca-cola cans. I paid for a can and took it back to the hut. I was drinking my can of coca-cola and having a smoke of weed when a group of Thai children came in. They started singing and dancing. As I listened I realised I knew these tunes. What were they? Then it came to me, Christian nursery rhymes I had learned as a child. I adjusted the baseball hat on my head, took a sip of coca-cola, a drag of my smoke. I felt awful.
This time I was going back to Belize. Previously a friend had been watching cheap flights and asking me if I wanted to travel. I was unsure but then one came up for Cancun. She knew I was interested in the Mayan culture ever since someone had done my Mayan astrology. I had ended up in Belize and the rainforest. I told my rainforest companions I would come back to Belize and build huts with them.
During the summer in the UK I went to Stonehenge for the solstice. I went on my own. There were a lot of people there. As I made my way from the car to the stones one girl said to her friend, "look, there’s one still wearing dead animals" I was wearing my black leather jacket. I braced myself mentally and physically to go past the policemen controlling the entrance to the stones. I drew in my breath as I approached and put on my defiant head. The two policemen shrank back as I passed. They seemed very small for policeman. I seemed to tower above them although I myself am short. As I walked through the crowds an older hippy in an old suit jacket worn at the elbows, took a double take at me and said, "we’re trying to have a party". "Happy solstice" I said and moved on. The authorities put large spotlights all around the stones that shine on the crowd all night long, even during the sunrise itself. The revellers shout for the lights to be turned down for the dawn but the artificial lights keep glaring and the generators keep running. I was looking for somewhere to stand. I was getting jostled. Then I found a space next to three women and stopped and relaxed a little. Inside the circle of the stones the drumming and dancing were wild and loud. Out here the drumming was quieter. Faces were turned towards the expected sunrise. As I stood I heard the three women talking about me.
"He’s using our space" said one behind me. The woman on my left turned her head towards me quickly. As she moved her face seemed to change for a moment. Not her expression but her whole appearance to that of a young dark-haired well groomed woman of power and grace. "It’s okay he’s just very stoned" she said. Round faced and lank haired again. When I moved on I heard the original complainer say "finally". Later I was to wonder why she didn’t want to share her space. Was it her earth, her sky, her stones, her sunrise?
I was in a bar in Australia once, near Alice Springs, near the bush, when a whole mob of blackfellas came in. I was propped at the bar holding a beer. No one else was standing at the bar. They headed straight for me and stopped in front of me. The guy at the front said "your bar mate?" "no" I said. They didn’t move. He continued to look at me. "Your bar mate?". "No", I gestured to the empty space all around me. They didn’t move, I was getting angry. I didn’t want to move. Then the local I was staying with, an anthropologist, came up and put his arm around my shoulders and led me away. "You trying to start a fight?" he asked. "No", I said. "What did they say? Your bar mate?" asked the anthropologist. "Yes, how did you know? Why did they say that?" My friend shrugged.
Back at the stones, I found myself taking a space on the corner of a flat stone that led the way towards the sunrise. As the moment was approaching another man stepped out of the crowd and stood next to me on the other corner. We acknowledged each other silently. Two individuals some distance behind me started chanting or toming harmoniously. As they paused for breath I involuntarily let out a tuneful "Oh yeah", not loud, not quiet, right on the beat. The chanting came again, this time as they paused for breath I caught myself and looked round at them grinning. They carried on, I didn’t sing again. As I left I looked at them and smiled, they didn’t seem happy with me.

Chapter 4 - Words of Advice

It seems I failed my evolutionary initiation because I started thinking about consequences and my conditioning about nudity, vanity and insanity kicked in. My faith that I was doing the right thing wavered. I often wish I had gone the whole way and arrived at the top of Crossways Corner naked and new. I wonder what would have happened then. I think I would have been invited on one of those transports full of people and been taken somewhere else. I think they were there waiting for me. I wish I had crossed over.
If it hasn’t happened yet, dream a good dream because it might become your reality. There comes a day when the way you think life really is, (as opposed to the way you are being told it is), becomes your reality. You are jolted into your own version of reality, the way you thought it was. So dream a good dream. All the stories and ideas you have been exposed to and identified with suddenly become truth. The worlds collide. Your voice is heard. You may feel your voice is being heard by all mankind or every person you meet without you saying anything, or in everything you say. Dream a good dream. Your dreaming filters into the universal mind, pushes the culture, you will be heard.

Chapter 5 - Back in Guatemala

George went down to the lake early. A figure was lying on the flat sand. George thought he had slept there under the sky next to the lake. They looked at each other and then talked some.
"Don’t talk to me like I don't know anything , I just cut my dreads off" said Hamish; shaggy haired, dusty bearded, chiselled features. George tried to concentrate. A few other people were around. Everyone was in warm coats. The sun was up but behind the clouds. Across the lake and behind the mountains the day had already begun. At the lakeside it was still the magic hour. Then the edge of the sun appeared above the cloudbank. It moved so fast George thought, "the day will be over soon". Hamish was very happy. "I didn't think we'd see that because of the clouds", his words so fast that the meaning came afterwards.
Hamish jumped up and pulled a conch shell from the pile of belongings he had been wrapped in. Everything was the same dusty colour as Hamish except the white eyelash rim of the shell and the clean pink interior. Hamish blew through the shell, first at the sun, then in the remaining three cardinal directions, producing a mournful reverberation. It sounded so pleasing Hamish did it again. A villager at the lakeside took notice and went across to George and Hamish. Greetings first, then he spoke to Hamish. George didn't follow the Spanish but listened and seemed to get a general meaning from the others' communications. Hamish's spanish was harsh and staccato like his English. He informed George that when he was shown the conch blowing ritual he had been told it was from the Toltec culture. Toltec was a word George had heard in the conversation between Hamish and the Indian villager. The Mayans' descendant had nodded his head several times. When he said goodbye, he looked at George and Hamish like they really existed.
The next day George heard Hamish talking to Butch and a friend he had brought back from Palenque. There had been a gathering of shamans at the Mayan ruins across the border in Mexico. Butch and his friend had attended a ceremony and heard a man talking about the significance of the day how he had been chaste all his adult life in preparation for the convergence of time, place and person. George had heard Butch say, that as the man finished his speech, his, Butch's body, had seemed to fill with light that expanded from within him. George had looked at Butch and realised he couldn't get him in as sharp a focus as he had been able to before his visit to Palenque. He looked different. Fuzzier around the edges. When he returned from Palenque, George had said hallo to Butch, and Butch on recognising George had said, "do I know you?"
Hamish went on an animated and rib-tickling story-telling excursion through some classical mythological Hindu stories. George was listening spellbound from another table. Butch was listening closely. Butch's new friend fidgeted then said that he had heard a different version of the story and a different ending and interpretation; but not being able to recollect the other version he mumbled. Hamish analysed the feebly delivered sentence or two, his words were quick and energetic, and laughed. Butch's friend slumped. Butch said ,"well it's a nice story", while slowly turning his head away from the other two.