The Brotherhood of the Magi

THE

BROTHERHOOD

OF THE

MAGI

by

Jessie Ayani

Heart of the Sun

2012

The Brotherhood of the Magi© by Jessie E. Ayani. Printed and bound in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means without permission, in writing, from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in review.

First Edition 2002

Second Edition 2012

First Digital Text Platfoming of Second Edition 2012

Published by Heart of the Sun at Smashwords 2013

Ayani, Jessie E.

The Brotherhood of the Magi / Jessie E. Ayani – 2nd Heart of the Sun Edition

ISBN# 978-0-9648763-9-2

Cover Art:

Expanded Sri Yantra – Over Titicaca Lake by Francene Hart

www.francenehart.com

Cover Design:

Silverlining Designs, Leanne Zinkand

www.silverlining-designs.com

Published by

Heart of the Sun

www.heartofthesun.com

[email protected]

Table of Contents

Pilgrimage

WhiteHearts

Dreaming Paths

Motherland

Rubies and Sapphires

Three Wise Men

Codes of the Holy Grail

Brotherhood

Order of the Ruby

Valley of the Blue Moon

Temple of the Sun

The Siege Perilous

Glossary

Dedication

To the Brotherhood of the Magi who have fostered and preserved Magic on the Earth – even in the most perilous of times

To the Magi of the Ruby Order – the highest magicians on the planet – who move subtle energy in service to Mother Earth and Humanity

To Beloved Saint Germain

To Beloved Sananda Kumara and all of the Lords of Time

by the same author

BOOKS

Fiction

The Lineage of the Codes of Light

The Priestess and the Magus

Book One: The Gift

The Priestess and the Magus

Book Two: We the People

The Priestess and the Magus

Book Three: Main Street USA

(forthcoming)

Non-Fiction

Awakening and Healing the Rainbow Body

Awakening and Healing the Rainbow Body

Companion Guide to Self-Mastery

AUDIO

Deep Trance Shamanic Journeys

Volume One: Pachamama’s Child

Volume Two: Right Relationships

Volume Three: Reclaiming Power

magic

happens!

Pilgrimage

Leah cinched the cord on the hood of her parka, tightening it around her head. Driving sleet stung her face, already wet with tears of cold and fatigue. The entire expedition inched along the side of a mountain on a narrow icy path. They had dismounted their horses hours before. Leah, a veteran of many such journeys in Peru, was not concerned for her own wellbeing, though this was as tough as it had ever been for her. The group concerned her. A wrangler guided her rugged little bay, walking along the cliff edge. She held onto the rough rope bridle while walking alongside the mountain slope. Leah was in a light trance as she walked, weaving strength into the filaments of light that held her group of women in a communal place of surrender to the greater mystery. Ten of her beloved sisters followed behind her. Trusting the wisdom of horse and horseman in this perilous situation, she dared not turn to make sure of their safety.

Ahead of the women walked Susmo, Leah’s spiritual brother and close friend. Susmo had been the bridge between Leah and the spiritual elders of the Andes in the more recent years of her Spiritwalk. Susmo walked behind a band of young natives, descendants of the Incas. The sight of their bare calves and sandal-clad feet, impervious to the cold, sent shivers through all of the women. The Indian men had met them in Pampacancha, east of Cusco, where the horsemen and Susmo’s young apprentices had assembled the expedition. The young apprentices walked behind the women now as the wind of twilight howled down the mountain with considerable force.

A year had passed since this pilgrimage had entered Leah’s dreamtime. The exact same dream had come to her four nights in a row. It was no less than a summons to make this journey to the elders, and each of the ten women with her had appeared in the dreams as well. Coming from around the world, these were sisters she had awakened, and then guided in their attainment of spiritual sovereignty. Leah’s path was not that of a guru, but rather that of a liberator. These women had not been together before on such a journey, so the weaving of the group was barely under way when the storm hit. She and Susmo had planned the trip for dry season but their guidance had been adamant about moving that up to the end of April, when the weather was unpredictable in the mountains. Tuning into the group energy, Leah was assured that everyone was alert and strong despite the hardship.

Concerned about the next day’s travel at even higher altitude, Leah focused her intent on Don Eduardo, the elder who had issued the summons. She saw him dipping his hand into his baby alpaca-skin coca pouch, a toothless grin upon his face. He pulled out three coca leaves, arranged them carefully between his index finger and thumb then held them to his mouth to infuse them with the power of his breath. Then he surprised Leah by calling out her name. He laughed again and told her that the storm was sent as a cleansing. When the group filaments unified toward the highest purpose of this endeavor, the storm would cease.

With this message came an intense energy that Leah used to fire her own core. The heat quickly spread out through her body, then into her entire energetic field, helping her to focus her intent more fully on the women. She sent the same powerful energy through the filaments of the group assemblage point to each of the women. She felt an immediate shift in that assemblage point as each one of them was able to see beyond the hardship to the greater purpose of their journey. Each one of the women received the message of the cleansing from Don Eduardo. Leah visibly relaxed. Energetically, they were in the clear.

Her thoughts turned to the filaments of light and the assemblage point, the most liberating of all the shamanic teachings. She had grown in the wisdom of this teaching over the years to know that it was central to all mastery of energy and that all esoteric traditions understood it, though terminology differed among them. An individual’s reality is a composite of beliefs. At any given time, we call to us what we are willing to believe and this collection of beliefs guides our lives. When Leah was young, she believed that all people had to work hard for a living at a job they didn’t like. This belief was based on messages she had received from both her father and mother. She breathed a prayer of gratitude that she had been able to change that limiting core belief for it opened to her the work of her soul. Soul work, she found, is not a task; it is her passion — her joy.

Leah had next realized that when she changed that core belief, her entire reality shifted. Eventually she came to understand that she had shifted her assemblage point, the place where all her core beliefs came together to focus her reality. The shamans saw that assemblage point as a focal point of light filaments. They taught that all things were made of light filaments because the Universe was a Matrix of Light. They called our personal Universe the wiracocha or egg of light. Leah had come to understand that the light filaments of each person’s wiracocha were that person’s core beliefs. Each filament had its own frequency and each assemblage of filaments reflected the stage of their awakened frequency, or light-body activation. Everything a person draws to him or her — people, pets, material possessions either reflects his or her reality or challenges it.

Additional insight coming from her own Truth caused her to see that individuals could enter partnerships wherein they shared a collective assemblage point with the partner. This assemblage point, or reality, represents a collection of mutually held core beliefs. All too often she had seen partners lose their individual assemblage point to the partnership through enmeshment of each other’s filaments. Just as devotees were expected to surrender their assemblage points to their guru, couples unconsciously gave their power away to their partners fostering co-dependency. Leah’s understanding of a healthy relationship was individual autonomy in partnership, wherein each partner is conscious of his/her own reality and also aware that he/she shares a mutual, though not identical, reality with his/her partner. Conscious beings could not expect another individual or group to have exactly the same view of reality as their own. That was absurd. Leah championed individual sovereignty as a path to God, for only a sovereign being had the power to merge with the God-force in Divine Union. Anything else appeared to her as a trap.

Her reverie ended as the group reached the high pass. Behind them, invisible in the clouds but profoundly present were the powerful peaks of Apus (Spirits of the mountains) Ausangate, Kayangate and all of their children. The rocky trail led them across the pass and down into a clearing, which hung on the mountainside. A clear stream ran along the clearing near a stone hut. Susmo had mounted his horse and was directing his apprentices to make camp for the night. The wranglers piled up the saddles in one end of the hut and took the horses upstream to graze. Dry brush and dung stashed in the hut by the Indian guides the day before made a quick fire to warm the hut and cook dinner. Pitching tents and stowing gear went swiftly with the help of the young men.

When camp was set, glowing faces peered out of wet rain gear as the women gathered in circle before the hut. They rubbed each other between the shoulder blades and poured heart energy out to each other. There was no doubt in Leah’s mind that Don Eduardo had called forth the perfect group of women for this pilgrimage. None of them had any idea where they were going, and none of them cared a bit. She fought back a laugh at the thought of their blind trust, but the women, so close to her and to each other, read her thoughts and started to laugh aloud. Soon the whole circle was in an uproar, releasing the tension and fatigue of the day with unbridled merriment. The young apprentices came to join them, soon followed by Susmo and the Indian guides. As the last of the group entered the circle, the low clouds parted, revealing the snowcapped peaks of the mountains that flanked the valley below their camp. Bathed in the blue-pink light of sunset, the Apus shimmered magically. The group was one. The cleansing was complete. Tomorrow’s path was in sight.

After organizing the tents for the night’s sleep, everyone crowded into the stone hut to warm up and shed their rain gear. Several of the young men had brought in the cooking pots and had brewed coca tea. It felt good to hold the hot liquid and warming to take it within. Perched on piles of saddles facing the blazing fire, the women looked radiant. They had another full day on the horses and a very high pass ahead of them before reaching the first of the Indian villages. No one seemed tired. The gift of energy from Don Eduardo was gratefully appreciated, though not totally understood by one and all.

Her heart brimming with love, Leah looked around the room at the shimmering faces of these exceptional women. Having committed themselves unselfishly to the Mission of the Sisterhood, each one of their light bodies was fully activated. They were the Priestesses of Annu, Priestesses of the Sun, incarnate on Earth to hold the frequencies of Earth’s ascension. These women were not the only women responsible for this great task, for the Sisterhood had incarnated en masse, in every race and on every continent, at this time. This was a soul lineage that was part of the great Monad of Christ Consciousness, a vast group of souls committed to planetary ascension. Leah felt these particular women had been chosen for this pilgrimage because they had reached the gateway of service in their planetary work. None of them were living for themselves any more. Realization of the greater work of their souls had come to all of them. This was a significant step towards enlightenment.

Susmo left the cooks to their work and wandered over to Leah. He put his arm around her and kissed her cheek. Her blue eyes sparkled as a great smile came to her face. Susmo was her dearest wayki — a true spiritual brother, and she addressed him as such.

"Wayki, we are so grateful for the strength of your young men, yourself and the Indians. It was an unexpected and challenging afternoon," she said, in fairly good Spanish.

"Wayki Leah, accept my apologies for the weather. All the intent in the world could not change it," he replied, in English, establishing his desire to try to speak their language.

"It was a limpia, a ritual cleansing, my brother. We all understand and accept it. Don Eduardo was quite pleased with it," Leah answered with a chuckle. Susmo raised his eyebrows and all the women laughed.

Susmo, I would like each of these beloved women to introduce themselves to you, Leah suggested. A few have been with us in Peru before, but many have not, and they have had little time even to meet each other.

Wonderful, Leah, he replied.

"Buena," Leah said, with a smile. Let’s begin with Sonia, who will be our Spanish/English translator when we are in formal circle. Sonia, she announced with authority, front and center!

Jumping down from her pile of saddles, Sonia brushed her shiny black curls away from her cheeks as she turned to face the group. A short, slight woman of Mexican-American descent, Sonia had a dazzling smile and dark eyes with a deep light. Having grown up in a bilingual household, the task of translation was not difficult for her. She had gladly accepted Leah’s invitation to perform this service. Looking out at the expectant faces of the group, she began to speak.

I am Sonia Sanchez. My home is in Albuquerque, New Mexico in the United States. Sonia paused, collecting her thoughts. "What can I say about myself? Well, I have had many careers in my life, including motherhood, but it was not until I found my real niche in this world that I began feeling fulfilled and joyful about life here on Mother Earth. So now, I live out my soul’s purpose as a visionary artist, painting what I see in meditation and ceremony so that others might share in the experience. I feel like a bridge to the beauty and mystery lying within other dimensions and I try to capture that in the art. I paint most often with watercolor, but I also use acrylics and oils. I am also passionate about gardening and growing my own food.

I met Leah many years ago when she came to Santa Fe to offer a seminar. Like many of us, I woke up from a deep and unhappy sleep that weekend and am continually integrating more of my Truth and light every day – to say nothing of continually detoxifying my body, mind and spirit, she said with a grin. The whole circle laughed with recognition of their intense cleansings. It was the only way to keep up with the frequencies coming to Earth from the stars, and it was one of Leah’s favorite topics.

Sonia continued. I was lucky enough to be with Leah at the mountain retreat when she gave us the story of the lineage of light, the Sisterhood of the Sun. I wonder what we will witness on this journey? she concluded.

Sonia gave Susmo a warm hug. Susmo, always deeply connected to his translators, sent a surge of love energy into Sonia’s heart that brought tears to her eyes.

"Gracias, Wayki," she whispered to him as she moved to embrace Leah. Susmo was a charismatic man with a huge heart. It was impossible not to love him.

The next woman to step forward was Bridget, whose soft red hair fell in waves past her shoulders. A fair-skinned and delicate-featured native of Ireland, Bridget spoke with the charming lilt of the isles. She led the others to remember their Celtic soul roots, for the Sisterhood had incarnated as Priestesses of Avalon for centuries.

Beloved sisters and Susmo, Bridget began, bowing to Susmo, "I am Bridget O’Brien, born in Dublin, but now choosing to live in Edinburgh, Scotland. To truly walk my soul’s path, it was necessary for me to make some temporary separation from my family and its rigidly held religious beliefs. I married a Scot, Willie McIntyre, who has been incredibly supportive of my spiritual path. He was the one who signed me up for my first retreat with Leah in Glastonbury.

"Willie is a very special doctor, an osteopath and homeopath, as well as an intuitive healer. I am fortunate to have his help with my own work, and also to assist him with his practice. I have been taking healing courses for a long time and am a nurse and licensed body therapist in Scotland. Everything I had learned began making more sense to me after working with Leah and my British sisters. I could see the whole picture of health and vitality. When that happened, my hands became channels of a healing energy that clearly helped people come into balance. Willie gave me a room in his clinic and integrated my work into his practice. Now I am teaching others to bring this energy through their hands and hearts. The work is growing.

I feel it is a miracle for me to be able to be here on this journey. Five years ago I was angry at the world, a big reflection of myself, and now I feel the love of God within me and know the meaning of acceptance. I am very happy in my life. It is good to see those sisters from the European retreats and to meet so many new sisters. Thank you.

Bridget bowed her head slightly then went to give Susmo a warm hug and kiss. Turning to Leah, she said, I am so glad that you saw me in your dream, Leah.

There was no way to miss your red hair, Bridget, she replied, smiling. In a quiet voice, she added, Your work is magnificent, Beloved. You will find it even more rewarding because you are now fully anchored in your purpose.

Leah and Bridget kissed each other’s cheeks before Bridget returned to her place. Leah nodded to a tall, blonde beauty who was leaning against the wall of the hut, wrapped in a lime-green fleece blanket. The woman smiled and stepped to the center. She towered over Susmo and Leah, but had no awkwardness about her. In fact, her grace and poise were inspiring for all of them to watch.

I greet you all for my homeland of Sweden, she began. I am Britta Stephenson. I was born in the north where it is very cold, but I now live in Stockholm. Please excuse the poor quality of my English.

Get out of here, Brit, Sonia teased, your English is perfect! Brit bowed her head, pleased that she was being heard, then, tossing her long blonde braid over her shoulder, she continued.

"I was, for many years, a model in Stockholm. I made a fortune in modeling, but came close to ruining my body with starvation dieting and taking pills. I believe I was severely malnourished and know I was deeply depressed. Thank God, I have now learned to eat healthy food without fear. In recovering from that career, I sought out many alternative-healing practitioners in Sweden and around the world. I studied nutrition, movement and breath. I recovered to become a coach for others who had experienced a healing crisis like mine. Now I am moving into the fields of rejuvenation and youthful longevity. I love my work. I love helping people.

I am also the mother of two children, a boy and a girl, who are still young. My body was not able to have children for many years and then – the two miracles came to me. My husband is a banker in Stockholm. He doesn’t understand my spiritual work, but he does not oppose it. In my situation, that is support. He likes the transformation but is afraid to hear the details.

A number of the women gave her knowing nods of kinship with regards to the men. The work they were doing was little understood outside the Sisterhood. Therefore, support from loved ones was a particularly important issue. Most of the women on this journey had managed to manifest incredibly supportive partners. It was one reason they were able to be on such a quest. This was a journey without expectation, without rational explanation, and as far as Leah was concerned, without a plan. It was a test of fluidity, courage and dedication to the path.

After thanking the women for being her sisters and acknowledging both Bridget and Genevieve as friends from the Glastonbury retreat, Brit gave Susmo a kiss on the top of his head and tousled Leah’s long blonde hair with affection. Leah had always adored Brit’s playfulness. She was like a breath of fresh air in any group.

Genevieve took the cue and stepped forward next. Her English was halting, generously mixed with French, but her thoughts and expression were quite clear. She was a radiant woman of medium height, slim with bright green eyes. Long, wavy auburn hair was pulled together and fastened on top of her head in a charming way. Genevieve had the refined, almost chiseled, features of privileged blood.

Good evening, Susmo, Leah and my sisters, she began. I am Genevieve de Louise coming here from the little town of Saint Maximin la Saint Baume in Southern France. My life in Saint Baume was simple before I met Leah. I was and am still very dedicated to the Black Madonna and Mary Magdalen, whose cave of meditation lies on the mountainside of Saint Baume. My mother raised me in the traditions of the Black Madonna, the true Gnostic teachings of Jesus and Mary Magdalen, which was rare in our village of Catholics. I was not brainwashed by the church like most others, and so she cautioned me never to express my beliefs in public. Many have died in Southern France in the past for believing the greater Truth. I was so close to Mary that I took a part-time job as a tour leader to her cave and the tomb within our basilica. It was a good job, since most people came there in respect and awe. One day, Leah came to that cave and asked me to tell her everything I knew about the Black Madonna and Mary.

Turning her gaze towards Leah, Genevieve brushed away a few tears that had welled up in her eyes as she remembered that encounter. Gathering her composure, she continued. "As any of you might guess, I began saying things I had never known in my conscious mind about Mary, the Black Madonna, the Gnostics, the church she started, and the persecutors who sought to rid the area of her great Truth. Suddenly, I was a fountain of information coming from – I knew not where. Leah’s presence seemed to connect me with a force that had been waiting to move through me. She held a space for me that allowed me to connect with my Higher Self and my soul.

"Now I am aware that I was guided by the voices of the Sisterhood; those women who lived and worked with Mary in Saint Baume and those who had followed them. I was fortunate that Leah was staying in the region for several weeks activating her own codes, for she kindly helped me to integrate what was happening to me. Otherwise I would have been afraid to continue my work, thinking myself insane.

"Many women come to see me now to make their connection with Mary and the Sisterhood. My own gifts have opened further, giving me greater opportunities to help them connect with their own wisdom and Truth. I offer these readings for a donation and God has taken very good care of me since the work began eight years ago.

My daughter, Millicent, is just six years old. I am divorced from a nice man who could not live with my gift. My Millie is coming into her own gifts already. I am hoping she will be able to influence her father. I love him very much but need to follow my own heart. I can see that Millie and I share in our lineage deep feelings about the Sisterhood and Mary. Our family has been in Provençe since Mary’s time, though branches of the family have been close to the throne of France. My mother believes that we are of Mary’s blood. For me, it does not matter for we are all of her soul lineage. I am grateful to have found myself as a reflection of each of you. I am equally grateful to be here with you now.

Genevieve hugged Susmo and Leah before returning to the pile of saddles next to Bridget. Another dark-haired priestess jumped down from her perch and came forward. A veteran of many Peru journeys, she sought out a big hug from Susmo right away.

"Wayki Natalie," Susmo said, offering her to the group. Natalie laughed, bowed and stepped forward to speak. She had the unmistakable accent of a true New Yorker, offering her thoughts and feelings in a no-nonsense, matter-of-fact way.

I’m Natalie Baylor from Long Island, New York. It is so great to be here in the Andes again. Thank you so much, Leah, for ‘dreaming’ this up, she added, getting a good laugh out of the group. "I inherited a little bookstore on Long Island. It’s a kind of coffeehouse hangout for the locals, but we attract a lot of tourists during the season. My spiritual transformation has been reflected in the inventory, but more than that, I have attracted some very interesting people who became a regular circle of spiritual seekers. As I continued my search, they began looking towards me for guidance.

"I have to say that I was relieved when Leah came along. I heard about the Sisterhood through my sister, Helen, who hosted Leah in Boston. I got involved right then and it has been quite a ride since. This work has moved me into a place where I don’t have to search anymore. I offer people that sense of stability and direction that Leah offered to me. Teaching came naturally, and I am happy to be conducting the beginning seminars for Leah in the East now that she has been working more internationally.

It hasn’t been my calling to marry or to have children. I like my freedom. I like to see open and fun men, but my real passion is sailing. The wind, the water, and this path have taught me the art of fluidity, the marriage of yin and yang within and around me, and the Divine Feminine that is my essence. I offer my support to each of you, since many have not been on a mountain trek before. Please call out with voice or thought if you need help, she concluded.

Natalie gave Leah a long, warm hug. Then she took her place once again, opening the floor to the next woman. The circle continued bringing forth stories rich with transformation and not without humor. Carolyn Weston was an Australian light worker who was an administrator for the Sisterhood in Australia as well as a seminar leader. Marie Louise Gerbouis was the proprietor of a unique rejuvenation spa in Geneva, Switzerland. Situated on a biodynamic farm, the spa combined thermal baths, body care and dietary reprogramming to help clients connect with healthy lifestyles.

Georgia Parrish was a breathtaking blend of African-American and Cherokee blood. Georgia had asked for and received foundation grant support to bring the work of enlightenment to those who would otherwise not be able to afford it. Each year, her funding had increased as the foundation saw how her programs fostered independence, courage and self-sufficiency among the participants. She had just been asked to put a program together for the Cherokee Nation to empower women of Cherokee blood in five states. Georgia was pure inspiration.

Liu Chow, a second-generation Chinese-Canadian, was a writer from Vancouver, British Columbia. Writing with an obvious passion, Liu was a powerful spokeswoman for the Sisterhood through the written word. Ellia Theiran had co-created a blossoming aromatherapy company in Santa Barbara, California with her partner, Greg, and the kingdom of the Devas. Their products were sought after for their high frequency and effectiveness in moving energy. Ellia also had a nice sideline business practicing Feng Shui, the art of moving energy within space. She had a sense of vitality about her that was stunning. She and Greg had two boys with families of their own. Both she and Natalie had been working with Leah not long after she had begun teaching formally.

When Ellia had finished her introduction, Leah asked Susmo to introduce himself to the group. He had been leaning against Leah’s pile of saddles twisting his mustache throughout the introductions. Without moving, he nodded to Sonia indicating his desire for translation, and then began to speak. His Spanish was delivered in a poetic cadence coming straight from the heart.

"Wayki sisters, I am Susmo Manaja. I welcome you to the Andes and to a very mysterious expedition. When I was a boy, my father often took me to the lands of the Incas. We were sworn to secrecy about these journeys because these Indians had never been found by the Spanish or by the church after the conquest. Their teachings were pure Inca, kept whole from the times before the Incas became corrupt. Their Quechua dialect was ancient. My father was a dealer in antiquities who always found beautiful weavings and artifacts on our journeys. We never went empty-handed. Our horses were always loaded with blankets, food and simple farming tools.

"These Indians’ lives were and are austere and rugged, for they had chosen to live in the high mountains where there is cold wind, snow and where little food could be grown. They chose to do this to protect the Truth and live in peace. My father’s passion was to learn the legends and histories of the people. As my father learned about the tribe and their history, I began hearing my Truth. I chose a life following in my father’s footsteps, inheriting his little shop in Cusco. When my father died I was forty years of age and a respected member of the business community of Cusco. Receiving the written legacy of his secretive work with the Indians reconnected me to my Truth in a way that was sudden — almost desperate. I found within me a hunger for the Truth that I had been ignoring.

"My wife learned to run the business and I began arranging weeks of free time in my work when I could be in the mountains searching out the elders. My wife and children understood this as my need to heal the wounds of my father’s death, but that is not what I was doing. I felt guided by my father and, in a way, was as connected to him as I had been when we journeyed together. The tribes of the high mountains received me in keeping with the memory of my father and I was soon apprenticing with many of the paqos (shamans). I arranged more and more time away from Cusco until, with the teachings inside me, I had no desire to be there. Now it is different. I have learned to live in both worlds, but I prefer to take people into the mountains to experience their awakenings.

"You might imagine that my family thought me crazy to be in the mountains so much and they felt a little abandoned as well, I am sorry to say. I was a driven man. Now I understand that the time was at hand for the Truth to reach the world and that I was to be a bridge for that Truth. However, at that time, I even questioned my own sanity. I have been fortunate that it has all come to pass as a surrender to the greater Truth — that is to say that I left my rational mind behind and gave myself wholly to the unfolding Mission. I think all of you know that this is necessary. My eldest son, Lobo, is apprenticing with the Indians, free from the constraints of the cultured world.

Now the time of bridging is complete and I await the next part of my Mission. This journey we are undertaking, this pilgrimage of Truth, may hold the keys to the future work of those in this group. Don Eduardo would not call people to him who were not to be of assistance to the Mission. So, as we walk and ride tomorrow, I ask you to clear irrelevant thoughts from your minds and focus your intent on service. We will mount our horses at nine o’clock tomorrow morning following breakfast. Let my warriors pack up your tents and load the horses. They will overtake us in no time at all. You all must save your strength – and focus your intent. If all goes well we will reach the village of Don Eduardo before dusk.

Susmo waited for Sonia to complete the translation, then turned to Leah. Neither Leah nor I, he said, knows the intent of Don Eduardo. We simply concur that we all must be here at this exact time. I cannot tell you more, he concluded with a comic shrug.

That is quite true, Leah laughed, and it does not surprise me that the timing of this pilgrimage coincides with the auspicious planetary alignment. We will be under the influence of this grand conjunction of eight planets for the entire trip, but we will be particularly mindful of it May 3rd through the 5th, when this fortuitous Stargate, a portal to the higher dimensions, opens. My suspicion is that certain energies important to the Mission will find a universal doorway through that conjunction. It has all the makings of a co-creative wave of cosmic energies. I think we all understand that the experience will be intense, but all we women have to do is show up and be receptive. She gave Susmo a little pinch on the cheek and added, we’ll see what happens to the men.

The group laughed and applauded while rising to receive the steaming hot bowls of quinoa soup being served by the young warriors. After a dinner filled with the chatter of new friendships and freewheeling speculation about the journey, everyone retired to their tents and sleeping bags carrying hot water bottles and instant heat packs inside their coats. The Indians were left to sleep in the way-station hut. A number of the women shared tents for added warmth and less gear to haul.

Leah preferred to sleep alone to accommodate the frequent insights and visions that came to her during the night. Maintaining some distance from the women allowed her to be clear about the status of the group assemblage point as well. It was a simple truth that moving energy required a kind of focus that could not be social. Susmo, on the other hand, had no qualms about disturbing Lobo in that way, or the whole mountainside, for that matter, with his snoring. The importance of falling asleep before the men became immediately apparent to the eleven women.

At seven-thirty the next morning, the women were called to the doors of their tents to receive steaming hot tea from the warriors. They would find these little acts of attention to be outrageously luxurious under the circumstances, and most welcome.

By nine o’clock they were packed and ready to mount the horses again. The warriors would break camp, allowing a little more time for tent moisture to dry, and then join them by lunch. A crisp, clear morning set the stage for a warm and beautiful day. The group was encouraged to dismount and walk when they were traveling downhill, easing the strain on muscles that comes with two days on horseback. The treacherous walk the day before had spared no stress for anyone.

Having overtaken the group at midday, the young men stopped in a natural clearing to prepare a feast of guacamole sandwiches and fruit. Riding into the clearing, the group found lunch spread upon a tablecloth beneath a monolithic slab of rock that jutted out of the earth. Susmo asked them to look at the rock, then above it at the snowcapped peak they were ascending. The rock was a miniature of the mountain. There was the everyday magic of the Andes.

Not long after lunch, the Indian guides reached a junction on the path and were joined by another band of their tribe. Susmo went ahead to speak with them and returned to inform the group that, after crossing the high pass before them, they would not be far from Machabamba, the first of the Indian villages. Men from the village of Don Eduardo who were returning from Cusco had joined the guides. It was a five-day walk to Cusco for the Indians of the high mountains. They did not ride horses, and the blanket-wrapped goods on their backs were heavy. Dropping their loads to give a hearty greeting to Susmo and his friends, the travelers welcomed a short rest before throwing their packs back over their shoulders. Soon they started off across the rocky terrain, leading the group towards their village.

Leah and the women stopped to layer up because the wind in the exposed areas was fierce and cold. They had ridden out of the protection of the mountainside. What greeted them was breathtaking. Snow-capped mountain peaks sparkled above the high country where icy streams sliced through the rock-strewn landscape. Home to the condors and eagles, these mountains were a sacred family of Apus and Ñustas- the male and female spirits of the mountains. Each peak had a name and was the guardian of all that lay below. The highest peaks in the Andes were great Apus where the elder shamans, their protectors, communicated with the stars. Don Eduardo was such an elder.

Just before dusk, they arrived at Machabamba, the first of a string of villages tucked in the green valleys of lofty mountains, which spread towards the jungle. Dismounting their horses, the group walked the last hours of the journey single-file down the footpath into the village. Children began appearing from the herds of llamas and alpacas, surrounding the visitors and grabbing their hands. It was the warmest kind of welcome for the road-weary group, and many felt tears stinging their eyes. Coming to greet them next were the men who offered them warm potatoes, while their shy women watched from the shelter of their doorways. The wranglers took their horses away to graze, freeing the group to join fully in the festivities. It felt like coming home to all of them. Met by pure spirits, who wanted nothing from them beyond a smile, a laugh, and a traditional hug, the group was fully in the moment, the rigorous journey forgotten.

Susmo gave Leah a warm hug, announcing that her women were true warriors. Arriving at a plateau above the village huts, he asked Lobo to supervise the establishment of their camp. Don Eduardo would greet them in circle after a dinner served in an abandoned village hut next to the clearing. There was enough time to get tents set up and maybe have a little nap before dinner.

As the women waited for the warriors to pitch their tents, their attention was drawn to the snow-capped mountain peaks above them as the last rays of the Sun sent radiant light from the Apus. Leah sent a prayer to the sacred mountain, which guarded the village, on the steam of her breath through the chilly air.

"Beloved Apu Señor Waman Lippa, may we hear the voices of the stars, may we be as children receiving your grace, and may we surrender without hesitation to this unfolding mystery, the greater Truth. Be as guardian and oracle to your children, beloved Apu. We have come here to receive and to serve.

"Beloved Ñustas, show us the way of balance and receptivity. May we be blessed with the ability to co-create the future. May we never forget the Mission we serve and those who have held the light for so long on Pachamama. Blessed Be.

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White Hearts

Close to full, the Moon hung over the mountains to the east as the group left their crowded dining hut after dinner. Susmo led them up and down the steep paths through the community of rectangular thatched-roofed stone houses to a larger stone building at the far edge of the village. Village men were gathered around the entrance of the building awaiting the visitors. After a ten-minute round of hugs and cheek kissing with all of them, the group was ushered into the fire-lit stone room. Larger than the homes, it was reserved for community meetings and ceremonies. Two young boys were attending to the fire — its smoke rising through a hole in the thatched roof. In spite of their excitement about the strangers, they maintained a serious attitude about their chore, stealing looks whenever they could.

As Susmo and Leah entered the room, they saw an old wayki talking to two villagers. Leah was shocked. Brian Stafford! she cried, quickly holding a hand over her mouth to muffle her voice. What on Earth are you doing here? Leah grasped Susmo’s arm, dragging him towards the tanned, sandy-haired man they had known for years. Brian lifted Leah off the floor and twirled her around in his arms. He set her back down next to Susmo with a kiss, and then grabbed Susmo. After the two waykis had finished greeting each other, Brian stood back a bit to look at them.

Leah, I have not seen you in three years. You are younger and more fit than ever.

Leah laughed. Thank you, Brian. That always sounds good coming from you. How long have you been here?

Susmo left me here about a week ago. Brian said.

Leah looked at Susmo suspiciously. "You are difficult to surprise, Wayki Leah, Susmo offered sheepishly, but I think we have succeeded this time."

That you have! she replied. What brings you here, Brian? Leah asked, touching his arm lightly.

Well, Leah, I had a dream. I was sleeping under some palms near the ocean one afternoon so I cannot tell you if it was a dream, a journey or a vision, but I clearly saw Don Eduardo who told me precisely when to be here.

Leah smiled inwardly, acknowledging Don Eduardo’s masterful method of invitation. It looks like life on Maui agrees with you, she added.

I miss Santa Barbara, but the energy is similar and the weather is more to my liking, he laughed.

Brian was just a bit taller than Susmo and Leah, of muscular build with luminous blue eyes. He was forty-two years old to Leah’s fifty-five years. Susmo’s vanity prevented him from revealing his age, though she guessed him to be in the mid-forties given that Lobo was nineteen.

I sent an e-mail to Susmo, Brian continued, "who agreed to arrange my safe passage to the mountains, and here I am. By the way, Susmo, we are not alone. Another wayki arrived yesterday afternoon. He had come up the trails from Paucartambo to the east villages and worked his way to Machabamba. I have not formally met him yet, but I’ve seen him and do not know him."

Susmo’s eyebrows were raised nearly to his hairline. It was obvious to Leah that he had been surprised as well – no doubt by Don Eduardo. Susmo’s dark eyes sparkled and the wavy black hair of his mestizo lineage framed the olive skin of an expressive face. He looked from Leah to Brian and replied, We should have taken that route ourselves. We were given a severe thrashing by the sleet spirits to eliminate the need for any cleansing ceremonies.

Brian laughed and asked them to join him as he finished speaking with the village men. They joined Emanuel, Juan and Jose, three of the alto mesayoqs, or high priests of the tribe. These were men in their forties and fifties who tended to the spiritual needs of the village. The elder priests like Don Eduardo, were the messengers of the stars who held light for the planet. In addition to the titles and duties of the priesthood, which was part of the tribal tradition, paqos (shamans) possessed a quality that was cultivated and expressed in their work and life. One might be a seer, while another might be a curandera or healer. Don Eduardo was a ylloq’e, in fact the highest and most respected magician in the Andes. He had trained all his life, through the pampa mesayoq (master herbalist) aspect of the priesthood, as a magician. It was his calling.

Directed by the young warriors, the women were seating themselves in a semicircle opposite a low altar when a commotion outside the door drew the attention of Leah, Susmo and Brian. Through the doorway entered an obviously exceptional man. In the physical, he was over six feet tall, a good-looking man in his late fifties, with a tanned face, close-trimmed graying beard and mustache and soft green eyes. Handsomely streaked with silver, his dark, wavy hair was drawn back in a ponytail, presenting only a subtle contrast to his black fleece jacket. In fact, like Leah, he wore only black. He was dashing, Leah mused – a charming blend of Jedi Knight and Zorro.

His physical appearance was lost to no one, but more importantly, his energetic presence held them all spellbound. For those who could see energy, this man’s golden aura pulsated rays of violet and indigo light, while a huge, filamentous White Heart was present deep within his heart chakra. Leah had sensed the presence of a heart like that in Susmo, but this stranger’s field was as bright as that of Don Eduardo, whose White Heart had always been a mystery to her. The minds of the group came alive. Where did he come from? Who was he? What part would he play in the unfolding mystery of the journey?

The stranger smiled as their thoughts reached him and, tactfully freeing himself from the grips of five children who had accompanied him to the ceremonial hut, he came towards Leah, Susmo, and Brian. The alto mesayoqs silently backed away to take their places on the altar side of the circle. As the stranger neared her, Leah felt her entire body fill with a blissful current of energy. His smiling eyes were meeting her own — every step of the way. She felt as if she were looking at someone she had lost a long time ago, but she had never laid eyes on this man before this night. Acknowledging deep and mysterious emotions within her, she extended a trembling hand towards him. He bypassed it entirely and wrapped her fully but gently in his arms. When he drew away, she was smiling brightly, brushing away the tears that had rushed forth when their energies had met.

You must be Leah, he said, in a twangy version of the Queen’s English.

The only place she had heard English like that was ‘Down Under’. Her mind expanded to review all of her Australian friends, students, teachers and their stories. She narrowed her eyes to study his face. You’re not Christian Kramer, are you?

Delighted to meet you, mate, he said, laughing heartily. How did you know?

Leah laughed. A good guess. On my last visit to Perth, one of my students gave me a flyer for your workshop as I was leaving for the airport. She told me you had lived with the Aborigines in the bush for two years and then with the Maoris in New Zealand.

You must have been in Perth last October. I could feel your presence, Chris offered.

You could? Leah replied, stunned. You didn’t even know me. How could you detect my presence?

Remind me to tell you sometime, Love, he replied, winking. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends? Oh, and please call me Chris.

Of course, she blushed, turning to Susmo and Brian. "This is Susmo Manaja, my