Tag Archives: Buzau

The Great Blue Steward

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Aluniş, chiliile săpate în piatră

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.

piramida cu piatra rotitoare

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.

poveşti scrise în piatră

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

la lucruWe set a power circle in one of the 10 illumination disks  (each of those is about 45 meters wide and they surround the central structure in the valley).

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.

o Roată a timpului, stâlp de poartă la DionisieThe 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

Trip to the Land of Luana

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Aluniş, chiliile săpate în piatră

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.

Trasee-Tara_Luanei-GoogleEarthAbout 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.