Dalion’s quest for spiritual knowledge had become a ritual. Five short years living with the Navajo had rekindled his desire to uncover his Native American roots. The Navajo traditions had awakened something deep within his Cherokee blood. Sometime during the year of 1976, Dalion’s spirit had left his body in search of something far greater than offered by conventional education or religion. Through the years it seemed his essence was still in Arizona trapped on the Rez, searching for that guide to release the torment of this existence. Many cultures and many interactions later, he was returning to Red Mesa in hopes becoming complete and finishing his journey.
“Yes, yes,” he thought, “I’ve been from coast to coast and still haven’t found ONE all enlightening religion.” They are all in conflict, even the ones that claimed to be peaceful. Some claim the holy day to be Saturday while others declare Sunday. Predestination was thought outrageous centuries ago, yet many still claim we all have destinies according to God. The ONE thing that really got to Dalion was the claim that God loves all and is a loving God, yet he knew from the beginning that ¾ of humanity was going to burn in this place called Hell. How could a “loving” God create a species and condemn over half of them to perish in such a horrific manner? All the “Christians” that I pose this question, call me “Luciferian.” Whatever! There is more to the big picture and Dalion was dead set on finding it. He wasn’t sold on the idea of reincarnation, but had vivid memories of past lives. He laughed to himself, “I might have been a knight once, but I damn sure ain’t coming back as a water buffalo! Too Hades with secular ideologies! I will find the path to enlightenment if it kills me.”
The pounding drum beat gets my heart rate soaring in rhythm and ready to ride again. The horses breathing heavy and the hooves pounding. Leaning back, I feel the rain run down my face and neck, under my cloak, and down the small of my back. I have missed riding in the rain. The creak of leather and the pounding of my heart within my armor, fighting to be heard above the rain against my breastplate. The clank of swords against shields in ready for the attack. I hear the horns and spur my mount forward, prepared to enter a night of flesh and blade.
“Aaaaarg!” Dalion wakes up with a shout. Sweat pouring from every part of his body. “Not again,” he thought. “Jeez! When will these nightmares stop?” He crawled out of bed, noticing it was 4:44 and headed to start the coffee. 4:44? “That’s 5 years straight,” he thought. What gives? The marble floor was as cold as the cutting wind had been in … Where the hell had he been? Forgetting the clock his mind wandered back to the dream. Was it a dream or a memory? He felt so connected to the dream. It seemed so real. As he reached for the carafe to prep the coffee Dalion noticed a trickle of blood land on his forearm. He wasn’t ready to face what he might see in the mirror, so he anxiously finished the caffeine ritual before trudging off to the bathroom.
I am beginning to realize that there is no right or wrong, only our perceptions thereof.
I had a vision that I was standing with the woman that has been in my thoughts as long as I can remember. We were looking at an apple. We both knew the fruit was red in color. She said to me, “If you could only see the apple through my eyes.” I focused, and my soul entered her body for a brief moment. What I saw changed my perspectives on life itself. I saw the apple, but it was blue. That put a crack in my ideologies of right and wrong. What I saw as red, she saw as blue. Just because two people see the same thing, it might be quite different in each of their minds. So every right is wrong and every wrong is right. I understood something of the ancient wisdom at that moment. Throughout the next 10 years that wisdom was touched by Fibonacci and grew exponentially. There is only ONE.
Dalion recalled reading Brian Greene’s The Elegant Universe some years back and one line has been haunting him since he waded through the thick book on the Super-string theory, “How can a speck of a universe be physically identical to the great expanse we view in the heavens above?” He knew the answer before he finished the question. Through the fabrics of love and time, all things are equal. A rock has the same qualities as a star. Ions and anions. Everything that exists is there to regulate and fill in the holes of our existence. To add color to this confined corporeal life. To help us understand the all encompassing expanse of love. Love is where we originated and where we will return. That is all that really matters. So, a speck of a universe IS physically identical to the great expanse through the filter of my heart. Molecules. Atoms. Dalion was beginning to feel weightless in mind and body. He knew he was on the right track. D.D. Jent had once told me, “There is an unseen order to chaos.” He was so right. All the knowledge and wisdom of the ages are converging and offering a map to the next elemental plane. What everyone thinks to be layers of chaos actually create a pattern of order.