This magic place is situated in Romania, at the turn of the Carpathian Mountains. After passing the city of Buzău one enters places where hills grow tall and the road goes up and down, winding and twisting in sharp curves, on steep slopes. Entering the Myth. Overcoming the broken asphalt and the country roads, the daring ones can reach a realm that is isolated from the rest of the world by a giant invisible curtain. Beyond this lies hidden like a treasure held by our Planet’s hands: a seed of Light.
In the village of Aluniş, a building that resembles rather a mountain chalet than a museum hosts large amber pieces in all colors. The huge storage of honey-like drops crystallized through 60 million years, a story sleeps in each translucent gold, green, red or black drop. Large pieces radiate like silent lighthouses. Smaller ones seem ready to wrap around a woman’s hand or hang near a child’s heart. The place vibrates with an energy that wipes like a sponge any trace of hunger or fatigue. The lady attending the collections is looking at us, with her clear, child-like blue eyes, and tells us the stories, connecting the dots, about how Jason’s Argonauts searched for the golden wool. This is actually the lamb’s fur, lit by the golden shine of the amber stones. The place is called Colţi (fangs) due to the weird shapes of the rocks aligned on the tops of mountains like old dinosaur scales. The ridges look like fortresses and hide long forgotten secrets. The name Colţi itself, transliterated into Greek, becomes Colchi, and from here to Colchida and the legend of the quest for the mystical treasure there is only one more step. The custodian tells us to look for Diana, the Guide for these places, who can show us what needs to be seen.
Diana was not there when we reached the museum, but by the time we finished wandering among the crystallized pieces of energy living in the large, transparent amber pieces, she showed up, called by the same unseen voice that beckoned us imperatively to get here.
Small and slender like a high scool girl, with smiling eyes and pigtails, the Keeper of this place looks at us with a sense of recollection and, although she had a group scheduled for the day trip, she accespts to lead us to the Power Places. She tells us the legend: it is said that, long ago, Luana, a non-earthling, broke the ban on coming to Earth – a cursed planet – and came here to teach the inhabitants how to bring back the Light and cure themselves and the lands that needed so much to get out of the sticky darkness of the Lower Realm. Coming here, she selected a place and built a citadel surrounded by guarding huge blades of rock, in the spot she selected for power and defence, and started to share knowledge with the locals. The carved stones one can see everywhere bear witness, through the unknown paleoglyphs in an unknown alphabet, of the messages about the times before the Third Sun.
About Luana’s citadel, it has been said that it had its own Sun… and the light frequency signatures become visible for anyone who comes here with an open heart and a quiet mind. Huge sacred geometry shapes vibrate in the air, the silver-blue light flows everywhere, and in the evening the forest is swarming with all kinds of beings: Keepers, the Old Ones, the Grand Luminous Ones, and small sparklies of all sort, angels and leprechauns. Blessings flow to all the newcomers asking in humbleness for permission and teaching.
The words change in our thoughts and our speech, and the normal language is replaced by old words, archaic terms that we thought we had forgotten. It is like other voices speak through us. Across from the unfit huge, modern building compared to the ancient, spell-like wave of the place there is a first radiation spot: a small church carved in the mountain rock and surrounded by similarly caved cells. Inside, the Music of the Spheres is audible. For the quiet listener, it starts like a heavy fundamental hurl out of which finer, luminous vibration start to emerge: bell sounds, flute tones, and harp vibrations, like thin light fingers are running across the energy cords of the Earth.
Everywhere, from the signs carved on the rock walls to the images in the inner eye, the Maltese Cross shows up like a guardian of the lamp shelves, the icon stands, blessing the food baking stoves and the serene ceilings, softly curved, reminding us of the white dwelling places in the Cyclades. You can feel the steps and the touch of hundreds of hands of hermits and priests who attended this Garden of Life for as long as it needed that, until the earthlings will have risen to the point of desiring its fruit.
Skies are different here: they catch fire, and the places are guarded by sentries taking the shape of animals. Sounds change like they are amplified and taken over by a huge synthesizer, that changes their properties and attune them so that they can resonate with the Greater Music of this bridge between the Inner Earth and the Above REalm.
We are getting ready to pass through the Gates, and the night seems like a prolonged training session, leaving no signs of fatigue though, so that we may be shown whatever each one of us can see and we may be gifted with whatever each of us can receive. We are getting ready with our own light and the pink-rose light, so we can bring from the other side everything we can bring and, expecting nothing, we sit down on the logs next to the place we wpent the night, to look down on the road, for the arrival of the Guide.
From the Land of Luana, Bleassings to all.