Once she drank the vine of the soul there was no way out. She had awakened in the 21st century… in one of many concrete jungles of the world. She had been reincarnated, and the ritual had brought back her ancient spirit. But the screams, and the fire, and the rain, and the swords, and the blood, and the incessant attacks of the shadows were still impregnated in the depths of her hippocampus.
The apocalypse of her soul had claimed and marked her beginnings.
The days and nights of utter destruction continue to wake her up in the night. Her post-traumatic stress disorder is unforeseeable. She did not fail though she still feels miserable for the loss of her tribe and the magical lands. It was not her battle to win. She was simply a vessel of the serpent woman to aid in the transformation of the earth. She is a protector. Not a savior. Love, water, earth, air, and fire of volcanic rocks is what she truly is. She was a friend of the crow woman from the southwest. Together they bathed in the scents of the earth. Together they worshipped the holy smokes.
But she has yet to discover her powers once again…it is all a matter of time. She is determined. She is on fire to obtain what her heart so desperately desires.
The shadows of the whore despoiled the shores of her land. Even though her mystical chants obliterated them for a short while, the coming was inescapable. Her father had once told her that consciousness is universal planetary pollination. Many battles she won until there were no more shadows to hunt, or so they made her belief. But the battle of the chants was just the beginning of a self-destructive virus.
…She was a pupil of the Tlamatini…
She once belonged to the Council of the Seers…
She was an agent, an eye of the old world. She still is…
…The colorful carnations of her lands still bleed at dawn.
The hummingbirds still cry in the absence of light…
The sages, the Tlamatini of her time never abandoned her. Aya, her tutor understood that she needed to rest. She was going feral. She needed to let it be. It was destiny. It was life itself. Nature had spoken. Her time had come to an end. She would be needed in the future. And so the troll sisters prophesied…
“she will be born again… and a different body she will be gifted. The earth will birth her once more and she shall become an Amazonian Warrior of the Moon. She will awaken in strange lands, but the sharks will guide her right back to the heart. She will remember what she has always been…but not until… A love for the arts she will have…”
If she only knew this is the book that has been missing from the cosmic library… the troll sisters are not too happy about letting prophecies out in the open. Though they believe in one’s ability to transmute, they are strict about containing chaos. They do not want to call out attention. Not especially now that the hunting of mystical beings is still happening across the universe.
“And though hundreds of years have passed since the invasion, exploitation, and colonization of the lands, the echoes of her chants can still be heard in the corners of the world,” the crow woman of the southwest writes to Ms. Harris, the cosmic librarian. They never stopped hunting us. I am still here in the deep central canyons for anyone that wishes to live. Send them my way. My ravens are always looking for survivors across the lands.
The Troll Sisters had personally contacted Ms. Harris. They had asked her to add a special, hidden reference in the book of life that was not to be shared.
But she is now here finding her way back where it all began, and no doubt she was going to see her friend, the librarian. She holds records. She keeps memories. The present, the past, and the future are all interconnected. The future is created in the present. Everything exists. Everything has existed. I wonder if Ms. Harris will show her this time. It is clear Ms. Harris cannot keep the secret much longer. She is too sweet. She knows what she has been through. The human clocks are ticking. Kou kou, kou kou…
She died to be reborn in the future, a future that she once tried to stop. The feelings are surreal. What a beautiful feeling it is to remember the rainy summer days of her magical town. The energy of that place is powerful. I feel the calling. It is happening again. It is plastered all over where I look.
The virus is once again here ravaging what is still left of what once was a…
She is no ordinary being. She has yet to understand that she cannot stop events from happening. That was her demise in previous centuries. She is powerful, yet she cannot stop the moment. She is only a vessel. She is meant to live, and lead the light and shadows of the days to come. She is a scented eagle. In her feathers she carries the sacred aromas of the forest. The crow woman is with her… and so are the monkeys, and the dogs, and the cats, and the horse mermaids, and the walking trees, and the coyotes, and the angels, and the owls, and the sounds of the drum, and the cosmic panthers.
She is a samurai warrior, and her katana is as sharp as her eyes…
Who would have thought that she would be creating her own magic? There is a difference between coming across magic and being the creator of inti magic. In terms of her father, even he acknowledges that there are different types of consciousness…
Her chants are a reflection of the soil in which she stands. Nostalgia passing. Memories and reflections going through her mind. She sits in silence merely observing. She is strong. She could have gone back to repeat the same story, but she saw beyond that.
The sacred plants have made her stronger. No doubt about that… The plants have given her the cognitive freedom to be who she really wants to be. Her womb is magical and sacred for she holds the secrets of creation in her blood. I am the mystical creature that she has been looking for in her dreams. All of it is inside me. She closes her eyes and sees the night sky with blue lights.
…Who knows what she had to endure in order to use her chants against the shadows… She was lovely healer of the creeks until her world began to collapse in front of her eyes. She had to fight back or die. She is walker of light and wisdom. The nature of reality is revealed when her body sings the chants of her innermost heart. Purification, purification is what she pursues. She is the deity of the scented womb of poems, and liberation she seeks to transform with the power of the sound and beauty.
The scents of copal and palo santo that emanate from her hair are unavoidable. She is free like the winter breeze. She conjures the medicine of the jaguar of the moon, and the birds of the rainbow-colored waters come in her aid. She plants compassion in her lands for she knows that compassion is a type of consciousness that heals.
…She is the force of the volcanoes, and the creatrix of new lands.
It’s clear the crows are on her side. No doubt about that. They follow her and dance around her path. The way is not in the sky. The sacred way is in the wind or so they sing the plants of the lagoon…
…And everybody knew that she would not stop until she gathered her sacred chants. She was tenacious. The plant people of the lagoon knew of her powers. She traveled in her dreams. She traveled on earth and through the heavens in the search for the magical chants until she met “Las Santas Plantas Almas,” the sacred curanderas of the waters and the breeze. Some have seen them like siren-sharks while others have seen them like giant eagle-serpents with precious wings. But she knows deep down that it is only one. She is a marvelous one. Her presence is mesmerizing. She is enthralling. She was called long ago. The blood of the serpent-creatrix is in her. She is a birther of higher consciousness.
But she is also a human seeking love. All she ever wanted was to have warm arms around her neck. She only wished to travel with the love of her life. She only wished to share experiences but living in the midst of war was not easy. She had a different destiny. The entire planet was on fire, and she was one of the few that could truly call the sacred waters.
The spirit of the water had left the earth.
It was up to her to bring back her ancestor.
She knew the chants of the waters.
She knew the chants of the sun.
“But the warrior of my heart… He was there. I thought he had forgotten me. He looked so handsome in his silver shining armor. Ay, his lovely olive Greek skin.”The light of the candles inside the temple illuminated his symmetrical face… ay his beard… I remember him entering the temple from afar. He was removing his helmet…then I saw his face, his eyes, and it took me back to the time where…
The majority of the people had forgotten the past. There were only a few who still remember the bloody night of terror. The sound impulses, the continuous waves of sound were overwhelming. Their ears hurt, their hearts hurt…
Ay, the explosive shock waves. Ay the lights, the moving objects in the sky. Nothing but silence and poom…glass in the air and hands in despair.
…He looked older and wiser. And I could not help, but to run to him, and hug him, and kiss him… but I was still hurt. What a rollacoster of emotions. He had abandoned me in the night the fires swept the forests. There were no excuses to evade those memories. I know what happened. That night is not all a blurred as they think.
…And just like that he left me stranded among fires, thunder, knives, and swords…naked running for my life in the mist of the cold night. I could hear their steps, their grunts, their laughs, and swords coming after me…
And then we saw the shadows and the red-eyes zebras…
We weren’t the only ones in the temple of the lights. One of the portal keepers. I have seen her true form. It is quite overwhelming. Not sure anymore if she is a white witch or a… She seems to be a grey soul. She heals…She sickens…She helps and unhelps…those are the ones to watch out. I have seen them changed in a matter of years. They love solar energy. My question is always: WHY? Interestingly enough, she had been the one that had taken us Ayaland, the land of the flowers in a not so distant past. She is always changing. Always transforming. Always seeking. Always trying to mess with me…or maybe she is making me stronger. Who knows. The world is crazy. No wonder why the world is experiencing EXTINCTION ILLNESS. Maybe I am too…who knows…
She is after solar magic. Always changing alliances. And as soon as she started talking (before I could even acknowledge that she was there), she activated it something in the atmosphere. Everything happened so fast. I began to dissipate within the fabric of space. Everything began to warp around me. We were inside the temple and poof just like that I was surrounded by turkeys. Turkeys everywhere. And the sound, the sound of the turkeys and the colors were inescapable. I felt comfortable. I felt too comfortable among the orange and baby blue turkeys I forgot where I was. And you know you are too comfortable when you…. My wow was I not embarrassed…The spartan had come looking for me… What a magical and surreal moment. There I was all pretty and cute worrying about him making any movement towards me. All I could think was…Can he…Nevermind.
And just like that I woke up back in the 21st century moving like crazy on my bed thinking I had…the morning had come. What a relief…I can’t believe I saw him… and that grey soul obstructed the moment. Maybe it was for the best. Now I am thinking… is it really him? Was the journey real or it was simply a fabricated dream with alternative motives. The grey souls are powerful and they can definitely do that…I better watch out. They could very well be testing me for what is to come. Time for me to study what I saw and make sense of the messages encoded…I better go seek counsel.
And the red-headed fairy spoke and said: “There are parts of yourself that you dislike. Cure yourself. Heal yourself. That’s the message. Learn to listen. Learn to love your body, and let go of your insecurities regarding your weight. I know you love food but remember my dear Tuffy Baby: Balance. Balance your soul. Balance your body. Balance your mind. Balance your inti magic. It is time for you to eliminate unnecessary toxic feelings and emotions. Close your eyes. Put your hands between your eyes and your eyebrows. Press down slowly, and push up. Look down and breath…
The lustful hunters are always there mascaraing to be something that they are not. I am glad you now know who they are. They are another form of leeches that drain souls in the realm of dreams and reality. They work with the whore. Not all of them of course… but the majority… for sure. She uses them to get what she wants of others. Run and drum under the sun. Let your slothfulness wash away. And be careful of the lustful hunters of dreams. Watch what you eat. The healthier you eat, the clearer your dreams and your visions will be. The healthier you eat, the stronger you will be in your odysseys. Now sing, sing el “Icaro de la Santa Curandera,” and keep crusading the realms of the beyond in the search for tools for the evolution of the self. The mists of the flowers are with you. And when in doubt, conjure the friendly, hybrid spirit of the half cow, half ostrich to protect yourself with laughter against the forces of the souls gone grey.
I now wonder if he was one of her minions all along. Did she created him to get to me? No wonder why she likes to be in my dreams. But he now knows who I am. I know the game she is playing. I always wondered why she was in my dreams. She had been here all along and her grey magic. Not sure what she has planned, but I am onto her doings. Maybe she is really just training me to be even stronger. I know. He knows. I truly liked him and that’s what hurts. And it had to be her…she was the only one that knew about…
…I know he is real. But he is more than real…Yet he could very well be a grey soul or a blue warrior in a simulated reality. The ocean is on his side. I saw the sea of life in his aura. As much as I enjoyed his presence and the great times we had together in previous… He has seen my true nature. I am not the person he thought I was. He knows about the glamour to protect myself in my dreams… You got to always plan ahead before traveling in the dream world. Part of me tells me he also knew all along who I was…I am sure. He could very well be a mischievous mechanical elf of the beyond. And right after the turkeys… and my little funny incident. I had woken up, but the temple of the red and yellow lights is still present in my mind, in my heart like a thorn on a foot in a desert.
The candles are still lit in my heart. The merging of my inner state with my outer state is happening. I wonder if I will ever see him again. I will not let him get in the way of the war against the shadows. I have a chant for him. We will see if he comes to see the show.
I wonder if we will ever cross paths. He did leave me a glowing rose, a glowing blue rose, the same color of rose that he gave me when we first met in the valley of joy. Ah, sacred warrior.
Everything has an essence.
Life is a universal planetary polinator.
Santa Curandera Ikaro (Ale Padilla y Matthew McHolland)
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