By Leonardo Rodriguez Carrion
The Meditations
On Saturday, October 2nd, Mayk had to improvise. A few people from Spain were supposed to be on this trip and have some cool stuff planned for us, but because of the Coof restrictions at the time, they could not fly from Spain to the United States.
We met a woman who took us out to gather in a forest with giant sequoia trees. I bought two books from her, which I still have to read. She told me very well, “I have only seen the manifestation of God so clearly in four other humans. The other one is taller than you and has dreads.” We sat around a circle, and she shared her knowledge of Shasta and the beautiful place it is. She also spoke to us about Telos.
She told us how folklore is still respected and followed in some countries. In Iceland, for instance, people must ask permission from the “fairies” and other beings before building structures. She told us a highway in Iceland was destroyed because it was constructed somewhere it should not have been.
The trees spoke to me and offered me a poem. Unfortunately, I do not remember word by word, and language is inferior to telepathy. That is why body language and other forms of communication are superior to spoken language. The tree’s message was one of resilience. They had survived the fires and drought plaguing the vast state of California at the time.
The Mountain calls you to come
That night, we would also go to a meditation center run by a Taiwanese man and a Chinese woman who had a woman who did sound bowl healing. We all had to dress in white to go to the meditation center. A different one from the man Guillermo we saw at the park the other day. The man spoke in a language none of us understood in the group except for one person, Andrea. Andrea was on this trip with her mom, who was the youngest one. I was the second youngest.
The following night, I had the dream I briefly mentioned. The details are sparse, but I saw myself underground fighting with what looked like the military and other non-human forces. This is a dream best spoken of rather than written about. This leads us to the last day when we gathered near another of the beautiful lakes in Mt. Shasta.
Departure
As we had done so on the first day, we gathered around and drew out our cards. Mine was much better than guilt this time, but I do not recall it too well. I do remember what my grandmother drew, which was death. She had a bit to say about it, but she was not expecting to receive such a card. Kevin and I got to speak a bit more before returning to the bus during the last day.
It was the last day of the trip before I would see some people on this trip again into the following year and the final year of these beautiful trips at the end of 2023. The spirit is strong, and the spirit knows. It was not a goodbye but more so a “until next time.”
I can’t say I recall too much on the way back on the bus. My family and I would still spend two more days in the Rio Hotel in San Francisco before returning to the East Coast.
Oddly enough, this is where I do remember some more of the finer details of the trip.
