The Elephant and the Priestess

Twelve times they had tried it. Unbelievable. Certain in the beginning, before the first attempt. Less certain now. But nevertheless, certain. All the elements were aligned. Each step had been followed, each instruction. Done as had been done, as nearly as could be imagined from the answers that had come. Sometime, they knew, this had been the passageway, and it had been used often. In that sometime, whenever it had been. They were certain of it.

Clues that were so much more than clues, because they caused so much vibration in the body as they were read and fathomed. The bones became sound chambers when the clues were read. Sounding rods. Sound amplifiers. Sound chambers. Echoes and throbs of sound. They knew in their bones, in the hollows that their bones formed in their chests and in the cradles of their pelvis bones, they knew, were certain, that they had found the passage, its entrance, its exit. Its portal. Its infinite cosmic multi-dimensional portal.

They would try for the thirteenth time. Face the opening between the stones that had held these places for uncounted rotations of the galaxy. Resting in the hillside, clothed with glowing greened greyed blankets of mosses and lichens, red brown dry leaves, small white and yellow blossomed plants with red black butterflies. The large round one on the left, supported by foundation on several smaller sibling stones barely visible through the mosses and ferns. The large round stone that formed a feeling of the stomach and torso, with the smaller rounded stone a little askew on the top of it, the elongated and funneled stone lodged on the left side of it, the feeling as if being next to a seated forest-floor elephant. And on the right side of the gap between the portal stones, the gap that allowed a view of the slight suggestion of four, perhaps five vertical stones that could slide in the hillside, on the right side of that view stood the right portal stone, more surface exposed where the mosses could not cling to the vertical angle, standing like a tall-robed priestess, half-a-tree tall, her hair of ferns falling from the top onto both shoulders. Suggestions of uneven breasts under the robe below the shoulders. Standing immovable, as if a body trunk rooted by its legs deep into the Earth.

For the thirteenth time they would gather inside of themselves,,, each as though a part of the other, in their group of three they called The Triad. Gather inside of themselves as though they were one singular holder and generator, one transducer, one dynamo, one dynamic heart. Gather and create a vibration among them that was their dynamic golden heart intention to pass through this portal for the ultra-dimensional treasure that they were certain thrived there on the other side. To know their own treasures. To know the treasures that belong to all who experience life. Experience consciousness. Are expressions of consciousness. In form or in waves. All of it vibrations, frequencies, waves of the emotions that have been called divine, that have been called love, that have been called the many names of the creator love. A physical step through that portal and into the dimensions on its other side would allow expansions of the consciousness of that love as it has been expressing in individuated dynamics and flows. From those expansions would come the choosing of the flow that would follow,,, that would express further. These three in their triad knew that they had prepared and they had found their way to this place, to the elephant and the priestess.