When spending enough time in your inner space, the perceptions amplify and you can enter into some kind of a resonance with whatever surrounds you. The roads you take become inner explorations, offering information, the pause moments allow you to digest whatever you received, and the nights turn into fantastic adventures revealing the unknown.
Shamans all over the world speak about Signs and their importance: they say sometimes one can see minute but important things, showing up in the corner of one’s eye, or at the edge of consciousness, like spontaneous knowing states. d
A few steps away from the bed and breakfast there is an ancient carved rock complex called Aluniş. In the first day, we wanted to come here, on top of the caves of monks and the stone carved church, on the ancient ceremonial platform, broken by the slow movement of tectonic plates and the eathquakes that also shattered the Agatons. Now this platform is tilted. The place, called God’s Throne, or Zalmoxis ‘ Throne, is like a small stone seat located in teh middle of what once was a great horizontal slate. Diana says there were sacrifices, we can feel offerings, milk and honey pouring on the old warm stone, not blood. Ceremonies were held here since the beginning of time. Access is dificult, either you try to climb the rocks on the side with the cells, or the steep slope in the forest that follows the line of the former monumental steps that now lie buried under meters of dirt, only the top stones of the separation walls barely visible today.
We climb, dressed in white, with all needed supplies in our backpacks, for the final contact with the translucent surreality of these lands laden with knowledge like a transparent glass hard disk that one must first find to be able to then read it. Two dogs from the bed and breakfast are accompanying us like silent watchers sent by Mother Earth, and we are surrounded by huge ants: the sign of self sacrifice for the collective benefit, giving up the ego and effort that does not expect any reward.
Among serene trees grown on what used to be a grand ceremony platform, we are welcomed by a thunder out of the blue sky. The Voice of the Old Ones is already familiar: we heard it at the Carpathian Sphynx, in the Valley of Cozana, yesterday, at the Agatons. Since hearing the name of Agaton given to the two monumental constructions, former pillars of the Golden Fortress, today monk cells visited and enlightened by the lightworker monks around, I had the feeling that this is not just a name, it should have a meaning, because Greek was the cult language for centuries and this would have been the only way to carry further the hidden meaning.
And here we are: Agathon, To (Greek) means overall good, as a principle, highest good, in the moral sense, summum bonum; Platon uses this name for an aspect of Divine also called the unmanifest, or the Original Word (Logos). The best Sanskrit equivalent is Paramatman. The Pole of Goodness, expressed in a binary formula – the male and the female principle. God’s Finger on the heart of the believers out here. How much sense this makes.
So that we hail the Great White Light from the Throne of God, and then thanks the Four Directions for four days of wonders, before descending with great effort and sacrifice (one unstable rock slipped downhill and hit one of us – there was blood and bruising and ice packing and antiinflamatory ointment). The general sensation we have is one of being afloat, and all human aspects seem so small and insignificant when compared to the overwhelming wisdom of these super-human places, that a part of us wishes we stayed here forever. I understand the aspiration of the soul that accompanied us along these days. We nicknamed him Frodo, because that man, dressed in turquoise, and walking barefoot, remininded us of the hobbits walking in the Lord of the Rings. Frodo got from us food, love, understanding and as much guidance as we could offer, and Father Isidor enveloped him in the warmth of his advice about seeking a Master if he wants to try being a hermit as a personal perfection way, explaining that this path might be dangerous if not properly guided by someone who knows the mysteries and traps of solitude.
It seems, too, that these lands sanctioned any unauthorized attempt or intrusion that lacked the proper knowledge. There are stories about locals disappearing from next to the Drilled Stone, with their ox-driven cart, reappearing without the animals and the vehicle next to Targoviste, a few hundred miles away, and having to beg for money to return home. They had come to these mountains looking for treasures…
A treasure is buried deep, close to the cross we saw yesterday. The hiding place had a sort of air pipe that locals had known for a long time. This place punished the one who tried to go down this air passage to steal the gold of the high officer: it has been said that once lowered into the pit, hanging by the dog’s chain (it seems they had to drag their dog by the chain, the animal did not want to come to that place), the man started screaming in terror: The Dragon! The Dragon!. Once pulled up to the surface, his face pale with fear, he could not speak a word more, and two days later he perished mysteriously. So the locals decided to leave Nature to its course, and the trees and bushes covered the secret passage forever.
Offering to the paths of Knowledge your effort, may it be a bit of time or some sweat to pass, physically, the mountain ridge, climbing to one rock to the next one to get to the Valley of Wonders, you receive signs.
The days we spent in the heart of Buzău Mountains came with such signs, and the ones I received were
The Stag Beetle: this weird insect’s message comes from the Egyptian tradition, where it represented God Kephra, the MidNight. It is the one carrying the Sun between its horns passing it through the winter, and the meanings are connected on one hand to death and rebirth and on the other hand to transcended Love.
The GrassHopper: trust in the Greater Plan, encouraging you to take the leap of faith, knowing you would be supported, to continue your way, because a new stage in your life is beginning. The grasshopper never leaps back, but always forward.
There is a lot to meditate on what stones, animale, plants and insects told us. One thing is clear: in order to hear their message, you have to be here, now, searching and touching everything, feeling, invisibly, the signs and signals coming in such places of power. This takes you out of the bad habit of dwelling in thoughts about past and fear for future. This only is enough of a reason to try the difficult and treacherous path to the mysteries safekept by generations of high priests, hermits, monks and lightworkers that kept the message alive, until the day humankind could get out of its decay to re-learn and re-acquire the ways of perfection and beauty.