A day in the Land of Luana looks a bit like watching Tarkovsky’s Stalker. You never know what is going to happen, and nothing is what it seems to be.
We get together with Diana, the mysterious fairy of these places. She comes like floating, to assemble the rather large group bound to leave for the adventure. We are gathering in the area of the hermit cells carved in stone, here, in Aluniş. The gang is extremely mixed and loud, so our Iris starts one of her aerial songs. The mood chills instantly and we can listen, quietly, Diana’s story about the successive strata of civilization in these places. The symbols are quite ancient. Two lions are sculpted in the throne on the ceremonial platform above the church. Elements tracing back to Cybele, or Ishtar. On the right and left sides of the church, the unity is created from polarity by two stones, pillar-like, really old and now buried in the ground – the Inner Sun and Inner Moon- as the paleoglyphs tell us.
We start on the country mud road, going up, up, up among hayfields, floating through insects and wild flowers until we reach the edge of the forest. Each of these secret places hide in huge stone buckets, and climbing over the ridge of the bucket is difficult. It requires maximum will but it is reward with glimpses of weird shaped rocks, guarding the main passing points on the path. Gasping for air, we get to the sharp edge of the bucket, and then the road overturns and, passing the stone ridge, we descend into another world, in another scoop of Mother Earth. After passing the trees and getting back to grassy area, the vegetation changes suddenly, and huge silver willows spurt from the ground. We have entered the Zone. The mountain ridge is populated by a disciplined line of huge vertical sandstone pillars with a rectangular shape, planted one next to the other like dinosaur scales, and creates an enclosed space. This is where the Citadel with its own sun might have been. This is where the knowledge flowed to the earthlings. The space is marked by a gigantic pyramid shape structure in the center of the fortress wall. On top of this structure lies a large rock – a weird shape boulder that lookes like a wild hog head, in a fragile balance. Two hours later, we notice that the boulder has changed its position. In 2008, a team of researchers took a video recording of one day and one night… and saw that it really rotates following the Sun.
At the heart of the enormous enclosure, a huge Belly Button of the Earth, built of monumental rocks, hides, right at its top, after a difficult climb and an apotheotic final on fragile ladders, the cell of Dionisie the Spinner, a monk who spun wool… and not only wool. He was a light spinner too. The vortex created by the blended three cord light going up from this point is felt like an ascending vortex by many of the travelers, and some literally feel like someone is pulling the top of their head up. We provide emergency assistance to one of the victimes of superhuman effort of getting here, we sit in the rotation of the huge spiraled ligh weaving and then we go back down, into the womb. The group is getting more and more disfunctional so we take out from the backpacks the Tibetan bells to clean the space. The clear sky thunders telling us to mind our behavior stop for a while.
On the other rim of the bucket there is another pyramid shaped structure, guarded by the only fir tree in this area: the monumental tree is 400 years old and looks over the small church carved in the side of the pyramid and bearing the sacred blessing of St. John.
On the last hundred yards to the pyramid side, that has been smoothed by rain (or a nuclear blast) the path becomes to steep and difficult that it is impossible for the body to make it to the church: it is the mind that drives us through the torrent of rain and hail. The giant washing machine of this magic valley cleanses the thoughts of the ones that, stirred by the energy of the place, started to pour their personal impurity and negativity.
Waiting for the flood to end, some of us hide in the minuscule church, as I stand outside, with my hand welded to the stone structure of the pyramid, the water pouring down on it like I have petrified too and I have become a part of the crystalline stone structure. The much slower descent on the steep slope, due to the turning of the path into slippery mud, brings us down. We are not hungry, we cannot eat – it seems the energy of the place is so high that hunger disappears. A part of the group goes to the Cave at the end of the valley, in the nest of the Omega-shape pocket. The shape has an incredible resemblance to the femail sex organ and it is guarded by a huge phallic structure. It hosts the Live Water source – the legend says that the one with knowledge may heal when drinking for 33 days, and the untrained one may get poisoned. n
Around us, unseen, gather all the Guardians of this place. The Old Ones descend here, and so do angels and masters and all others, so that, under the guidance of the Great Blue Light Steward, we point our souls toward the great gate to the other side and we chant, meditate, tone as everything enters harmony, and the Good from beyond pours in a luminous stream to quench the thirst of the power place hosting us.
The way back is difficult, too, because we need to climb back to the ridge of the bucket holding the entire collection of wonders, fed by the unpredictable and unexpected energy of the place. This way, everyone miraculously makes it, safe and sound, to the base camp. On the way back messages are waiting. Weird wild tulips and a huge stag beetle. We spoke to Diana and tomorrow we will leave for another inspired trip. We do not know what and how it will be, but I trust her silent communication with these places and I expect more wonders.
Now, in the morning, in the shiny sun light, entering the breakfast hall to ask for a hot cup of tea, I am greeted by a huge grasshopper, a hidden message about trusting the unknown and making the leap forward. Later, quickly taking down the travel notes, a thin insect wing lands on my white pants that replace the ones totally compromised in yesterday’s rain and mud. The wing carries inspiration and opens the air travel.
Out of the Light, blessings.
For more images from this land of miracles, click on https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10200144924727807.1073741841.1291603111&type=1&l=358320d821