Tag Archives: portal

Apollo’s Portal

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În Oraşul de Sus

Our last night’s unfulfilled task makes us rush towards Acropolis. Smooth paths, a crowd of all nations and languages flows through the profitable filter of the cash desk and ascends through the ancient theatre entrance. The way to the Light of Wisdom is open, the secred, well hidden here, on the Athenian peak at the and of the road used of so many millenia by the sacred processions. Although the carved friezes  still lay, stolen, in other European museums, nothing can steal the serenity and unseen force of this place. The power statement made by the great temple, and then the secret center that radiates energy and knowledge.

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Erechteion, the Cinderella of the place, with its hidden beauty, and the six, six, six statues.  Three and three. Trinity in its feminine aspect, trinity in its masculine aspect. Complete fusion of polarity, with all its sides: potential, creation, destruction. There is so much knowledge, so much wisdom and so much Light stored here, in the old stones that sing for the ones who have ears to listen….

Beyond obvious elements and the explanations pronounced by the guides, in all languages of the Earth, abounding in facts and figures with no final sense lies the Light. In the Upper City, the chose ones get to reach it, and the merit is higher if they know how to absorb what is happening and what is conveyed here.

IMG_0739We descend through the back, after circling all great buildings and fueled ourselves with the power cocktail they administrate. People flocking here in the thousands daily must be sensing something. There is something drawing you, from thousands of miles away, like a compulsory  point of passing in one’s path through Life. Seeking the sacred road,  the one I remember from another time, when there was no pollution and no noise, and I recall it going up, nopt down, we get to the sign of wise old lions, heritage from our stellar dowry, on a path where we only meet gardeners and archaeologists.paznicii Behind it, under the great supporting rock of Erechteion, there are three, again three caves. We are three. After repeatedly getting the message about four, here we are, three, a family over lives, researching and searching whatever is hidden here, under the successive layers of civilization . marked with modest signs, the caves show signs of early buildings – the poles had support sockets in the rock, and one can imagine the inner spaces, from another age, but belonging to the same profound luminous energy that makes the contour of the stone shiver and buzz in the bright morning sun. 

în stratul următor

No doubt, this is a place worth sitting and meditating. The entire endeavor finds a meaning, the dots connect and become a very clear drawing, starting from I.’s diffuse intuition on Apollo’s portals. Athena was his ally. His sister and ally. IN brotherhoods described in a mundane way by the chronicles carved in stone, but well kept behind the stories lies the mystery of the high energy, layered successively down to the insectarium of the physical dimension. These energies let Creators mold the flesh matrix, conteiner of the Spirit.

peşterile străvechi, cu urme de locuire A steep descent brings us back, to the sacred road. Lots of new fences appeared since my last visit here and it is much harder to keep with the route of the old processions, but the tickets we bought up on the hill allow us to get down, to the temple of Hephaistos – why him? – and to new memories that have no other connection into now than our continuity of consciousness. Kings of the place, agora, life then, and the fields radiating from the supple buildings, sitting on columns. The road takes us back,  to the street that leads to the hotel, in front of  Moma: this is an offer that we absolutely cannot decline… so we sit again for a salad re-make, this time crowned with a typical orange cake, sending us to Heaven on a slope of vanilla ice cream. Real vanilla. No artificial coloring, the tiny black aromatic seeds visible in the milky dream. This place is a blessing. And, thus slowly landing into the world, we decide to grab our gear and go to Delphi.

Parnasul, capul-compas al călătoriei noastre. Starting is a nightmare, both the real and digital guys in the car have a controversy and meanwhile we are looking for a place to repair the air conditioning. It is Friday… The Greeks do not work. Well. As we are heading to the mountains, it should be cooler there. After not listening to Gitsa and instead of heading West we went North, entering the highway, arguing about the optimum route, we need to stop for a coffee to ease the tension before driving the driver nuts.

It does sound odd, but although in a honey-like mood, it does not mean we cannot have different opinions, and the energy is high, influent, impacting. So I start working on it a little bit, with focus on containment, so that we would not trouble our driver again. We take a left and enter a fairy tale road, among hills that seem to grow bigger and bigger, until the road becomes really curvy. A., apparently obsessed with caves in this trip, finds a ruined tower, guarding a cave with a crumbled roof. The sensation of heavy, stagnant energy, specific to cursed places, is amplified by the black traces, tar-like, as if the fires of Hell had burned here. A blessing, a candle, then we go. Gitsa and the map provide identical opinions this time, and we float up the winding road, to a magic place.

sus, Portalul.

A small terrace, nested in a curve, by the road, with old trees, fountain and wasp traps made of punched soda bottles, waits, anesthetized, for travellers to stop for a juice, a coffee… anything. We find there an old lady – probably operating the kitchen – and a waiter-receptionists-good-for-all young guy who looks like a monk in civil disguise. The beard, the pigtail, the sensation of balance and peace. Definitely a monk, maybe not in this life.  We are resting around a soda, called lemonade, looking like Kinley and tasting like Sprite, containing a ton of sugar, a beer, a tea, and stories. Up there is a road going to the ski slopes, but the cable car does not work. An option for tasting the energy of Parnassus.

pe malul mării CorintuluiThe mountain vibrates ample, profound, overwhelming. We jump into the car, we are speding the night in Delphi, and need to find the hotel I reserved via Trip Advisor.  Brilliant. Called Fedriades, the manager worked in Ramada and one can notice the large hotel chain type of training. The rooms see to the Gulf of Corinth, a distant promise of a captive sea, and as the night falls, you can feel more and more the magic of the place.  Delphi infiltrates into the mind, gets into the body, like a magic potion, working in stages. We are all high in a way beyond description, walking on the narrow streets. My eyes are instantly caught by a medalion with a strange symbol, one that I seem to have known forever. A kind of a cross and a slightly curved shape of an eight- pointed star. Two Epsilon letters, back to back. And when I ask for it, the eyes of the shop owner grow bigger: how do you know about the Epsilon?

It looks like we have just bumped into one of the Ancient Mysteries.

The Syrius connection.  I.’s theory about the portal we came through starts getting some substance. The symbol, they say, was carved above the sacred rock of Pythia. Old knowledge flows. I  recognize and chood sthe symbol from the whole bunch of silver pendants in the window. The lady asks why have I chosen it. I am on  the auto pilot anyway, floating in the thick, liquid energy, that I know it and came for it. The store pulls the blinds down after I make the purchase and I feel like I am in a space/time fault, like a galactic gas station where we came to fill our tanks. Then we find another store, another pendant… and yet another one… and the necklaces we needed to wear the symbol of our imminent meeting with what called us here in the first place.

ale felinelorStill groggy, we stop at one of the too large, too empty restaurants, reflecting the size of tourist hords in the high season. A cat shows up from nowhere, going straight to our Tiger. A batch of tenderness beyond compare and a treat with the only thing she would eat from our vegetarian meal: butter. Then the cat is swallowed by the very night she emerged from, and the darkness weaves magic around us, dense and almost material, so we head back, to the hotel rooms, to prepare something special. în întâmpinarea Luminii de la Delphi

Although used to go to sleep late, tell stories, cuddle in bed, wrapped in teh wings of Night before starting our astral journeys, this time something very strange happens. After opening the space, we are suddenly sucked into the craziest dream parade, mixed with teachings and mysteries that we have ever experienced up to now. A journey beyond compare, in which I feel the fusion of polarity, understanding why the two welded Epsilon and I feel A. in the next room living her own encounter with The Fourth.
The fourth in this expedition. There is four of us in the Light. The altar and portal stay open for us, at least until tomorrow.  The pendands vibrate around our necks, picking all useless things from the bodies, getting us rid of old signatures, reprogramming, harmonizing, realigning. The alchemy has started, and we threw ourselves into its magic core, serene, not knowing what will be, but understanding that the only way is ahead.

There is Here

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ian with orb

I’d like so much to linger in the charm of the unseen gates of Delphi. But there are other place to mark… Originally we did not know what.  A. gets to chat to the all-ointment greased Greek and we find out with great amazement that he has a full bunch of travel options around Delphi. Under the nicely polished desk there is a huge file organized in pockets, with detailed maps for each destination. Still obsessing with caves, A. comes triumphantly with the information. There is a cave of Pan there, we will go, we will go…

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And there we go. Crossing the huge, massive mountain, we enter the ski area. The view is incredible, but the entire place looks like someone threw an atomic bomb. I guess during the winter it comes to life, but now it looks  like one of those Western ghost towns, where the only moving thing is the tumbleweed. We have pretty clear instructions, what is the bed and breakfast that we need to find to turn left, follow the signs and climb the endless series of tight curves, until there is little space between the gap and the left wheel of the car. I am tightening my grip onto the door handle.  :)  As I am thinking it would be better to turn the car in the first place that allows for it, we get to a small widened – or rounded – portion.  Sneakers on, and we continue on the rocky path that leads to the much desired cave… not so touristic, but for sure full of potential  :).

Entering a huge hall, we see a narrowing portion to the back.  It is a gigantic exhibition of weird shapes looking like beings crystallized in the calcite mass, and the sensation of Presence is overwhelming.  We plant small offerings here and there, approaching the end of the hall – it looks like an enormous altar, and I feel I need to stop there, this is the place we need to light the candles. I set nicely the whole array to be set, including myself, as I. and A., adventurous as usual, want to explore more and head towards the end of this natural temple. They want to climb the slippery ropes and go beyond, of course. Beyond, the cave continues with other treasures. I open the space, take the first photos with my tiny camera and on its small screen I see the first light beings, crystalline, shining, round or oval. They make the camera focus on them and not on what I am trying to take. Orbs of light, halucinating and so diverse.

radiind

The daring ones come back quickly from their exploration trip, less muddy than expected. They join me, the triangle seems to mirror the three side entrance of the cave  and we plunge into the  sense beyond understanding of this place, in that something that called us from thousands of kilometers. Light floods us, loaded with all sort of information. It feels like a zip folder, we will have to decompress them and digest them later. Also, upgrades, to keep the informatics analogy.  :) t One clear fact is that our subsequent photos, after this phase show us all surrounded by light. The auras are captured on my tiny camera. Two Greek women enter the space with their partners, see us meditating, tiptoe and whisper. When they see us packing, they are excusing for the interruption. No, they did not interrupt anything. Something has just opened here, and they are the first ones to take advantage of this new Gate.

eroul grec, musculos şi... cam atât.

The road back to the valley is much more spectacular than the road up. We have completely crossed the Parnassus and and we are descending, descending, descending towards the sea. On the side of the road, ripe cherry plum trees wave at us, so we stop and taste the rather sour fruit, yellow, refreshing, compensating the lack of water. We ran out of water in the cave. MOuntain landscape, with the fierce and massive rocks, continue until we approach the highway that brought us from Katerini to Athens.

A brief recharging brake in Lamia brings us to a city that looks dead. There is an advantage about Sundays: less road tax, we saved a lot of euros, but when it comes to looking for a restaurant…. dificult.

Facem o scurtă oprire în Lamia, pentru redresare. Oraşul pare mort. Duminicile au avantajul că nu plăteşti taxe de autostradă, am scăpat de o grămadă de euro aruncaţi pe asfalt, dar şi când e să cauţi un restaurant…. greu, greu.

Downtown, we park and find a street that is packed with restaurants, but… God… only grill. We manage to find a hidden one and if my little Greek works, the translation of the name would be The Street of Dreams. Good inspiration, we had wonderful vegetarian Greek specials. And, clearly, we are made for good restaurants :) .

la TErmopile, o Fereastră misterioasă a Zmeilor.

We linger for another break in  Thermopile, to please our warrior in the group. Greeks take advantage of everything when it comes to tourism. Not much here, except a monument and a board depicting the sea level at that time – now it is withdrawn -. The nearby hills are resonating the wailing and crying of the dead beneath the apparent silence. Far away, a vertical wall, like a limit of the trap of the butchery Greeks applied to the Persians holds a perfect, absolutely perfect, round hole, like a Window of the Ogres. Beneath it, the hill where the 300 died, bait for the Persian army of one million fighters, that got the worst beat in its history.

Heart of the Earth

In the dusty parking lot, a fruit laden fig tree seems to wink at us. A. ignores the drunk Greek, asleep on the bench, under the generous shadow of the tre that hosts a wealth of violet, sweet fruit. She takes her slippers off and climbs, cat-like, searching for the much desired pray. The Greek kind of wakes up from his drunken meditation and points to her where to step and how to pick . They seem to get along wonderfully.  :)

Driving down, on the road to the sea side, on the right and left side there are two options – two villages. We choose randomly the one on the right, Stomio, and drive into a wonderful seaside slope, crammed with tiny hotels and bed-and-breakfasts. A typical Greek woman sits in the door of one of those, dressed in black, really serious. She waves, we come and there we go: 25 euro per night, a step way from where the waves break.

înapoi în Cald şi Ud

We need our  Metaxa, quick, quick, and then the evening swim. The sea is incredible, soft and silent and silky, and we float like jellyfish until or fingers get crumpled, and the sun slips behind the mountains.

Another sip of brandy stirs the appetite and we descend to the terrace built above the singing waves. We are surrounded by cats and dogs. We choose a humongous fish, two kilos, it will be expensive, and ask for grilled vegetables. The Greek does not know how to do that and we end with plain fisherman’s food, everything grilled, no oil, no salt, nothing. I. gets annoyed by the basic food, but us, girls, have a great time with the wonderful dorada, and dress the plain veggies with an ad hoc potion made of lemon, oil, salt and pepper… it is really tasty.

Tomorrow, big day.  Up on Olympus. And our Greek adventure is getting close to its end. For now. 

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.