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.
Sitting cross-legged in front of Dalion was a very old
man. He looked to be at least 300 years old. The wisdom of his years had
elegantly creased his face with wrinkles. The peace that flowed intertwined
with his word offered great knowledge through a soothing medium. The medicine
man told him to complete the internal journey and find peace of being. Dalion
closed his eyes and began the sacred introspection.
“Am I what I believe I am, or could I more? Am I less?
Am I living a dream and dreaming my reality? Should I stay within the
boundaries that everyone else has set for me, or do I fly free and explore the
unknown to discover my true self? Too damn many questions. It is time to forget
the ego and search for the well of peace. No more focusing on the past voices
that scream, ‘You should have never been born. You are a loser. I hate you. You
are not worthy.’ I am tired of hurting and resenting. I need to cleanse my soul
and forgive all the negative thoughts that others delude themselves with before
transferring those same messages upon my shoulders to bear. The 7 labors were
given to Hercules, not I. It is high time to shrug the yoke of hate and dawn the
harness of love.”
Dalion looked at his outstretched arms and saw wings of
fire. He stole a glance at his torso. His whole being was aflame. Phoenix! He knew he was
burning off the outer shell of the ego. He was ready to fly again. He was a new
being with a new beginning. Daimon looked up and find himself standing on the
precipice of a chasm between two great buttes. He closed his eyes and leaned
into the gentle wind and was lifted high above the desert floor. Serenity
filled his being. Total peace was within his existence. He felt so alive, and
cleansed. Dalion opened his eyes only to find himself back in the sweat lodge
and the old man replaced by a raven. “What a trip! Time to get outta here!” he
thought, as he stood up and left the depth of the dimly lit structure and
walked out into a cool breeze of the Arizona
thunderstorm. Dalion jerked awake. “Damn, these dream/visions are getting
intense.”
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.
Excerpts from STAR GAZERS: The
journey within the journey
