The leaders of a women’s political organization
The obvious counter to the less than genuous support for drilling for oil as if that would lower gasoline prices or present any kind of solution to our problems is to present a technology that has any chance of changing our status pro toward a sustainable future.
THE MAPUCHE INDIANS have a tradition: At there doorstep stands a horizontal notched 6-foot poll called a Rewe. To most, the notches all look the same … to the Mapuche, the differences couldn’t be more obvious. Recorded in those simple notches is their family name, their past and most important of all, their future.
Geronimo had come here to renew old friendships with these proud natives. Like him, they had held out against all odds. The Spanish lost so many men in battle against these ferocious Mapuche warriors that they left in frustration, moving north to easier pickings in Peru, Panama, Costa Rica and Mexico. By the time Ziggy was 25 years old he had spent time in all those countries. His father had said he was an “old soul.”
They called it the “Corral de Aqua.” They said before you felt its mist on your face, you would hear the deafening roar of it’s guardian, Ruka Pallin coming from the waterfall above it!
The Organic Healing Honey came in seven different colors, the LSD in one deep, deep shade of blue. Neil Young sang about both. Ziggy learned about all of this from his father who taught him about the soul of the world, the whisper of angels, spirit guides and the colors of chakras. An old Reiki master who healed with energy and color, Ziggy’s dad was the real deal; you didn’t need a microwave when he was around.
Ziggy had come to Chile when talk of the draft started back home in the U.S. If Bush had his way, the war in the Middle East would make his father’s Vietnam war look like child’s play.
Very few of the old souls living here in Curarrehue (Curawagway) had ever heard of George Bush. A Mapuche stronghold located in the foothills of the Andes just this side of the continental divide; it was a quiet little village.
It is said the source of the “Corral de Aqua” starts directly above this valley on the top of the mountain. It sends half its water to Chile and the other half to Argentina. Geronimo said it came directly from “the hand of God.”
Geronimo and Ziggy had met on a vision quest in Arizona. “Just lie back, pull your knees to your chest and ask,” the vision guide instructed. It couldn’t be that easy, Ziggy thought. His father had said his spirit guide would make the introduction when the time was right. His Papa loved telling the story of hearing the name of his own spirit guide for the first time when sitting on the steps of the ruins of Machu Picchu in Peru: “‘Gabriella is my name’ she whispered in my ear.” Then he said “she kissed me, on the top of my head, like a mother kisses a child.” From that day forward, his father promised he would listen to what she said. As a child, Ziggy remembered feeling like a ping pong ball bouncing around from country to country because, as his father put it, Gabriella was leading him to his personal destiny.
Ziggy took a deep breath, “Oh wise and kind spirit guide, you who has been my inner voice, my whisper of angels, what is your name?” “GERONIMO” came back quickly. Ziggy opened his eyes to see if anyone else had heard it. Then he laughed, saying, “Geronimo?”
“What, you think that’s funny?” the young man heard loud and clear.
“You mean the Indian that jumped?” was all the boy could muster.
“White Eyes” were the last words he heard from Geronimo that day.
But with Geronimo’s help, Ziggy had found a small cabin on the edge of Curarrehue just along the Trancura River. The price was right?$50 a month plus watering the garden and do a little yard work, was all Eloy had asked. Eloy was a transplant … that’s what they called anybody living here that was not Mapuche. Forty years of living in Curarrehue had filled him with great respect for these people and their traditions of protecting the earth. It had also gifted him with a command of the Mapuche language. It was Eloy’s advice the young man was following today: “Follow the river north, you’ll hear it before you see it. Just be careful the waters of the ‘Corral De Aqua’ are deep.”
The way the Mapuche kids playing along the river threw the beans reminded Ziggy of the way his father use to throw his I-Ching coins. As a boy, he was with his father when he bought them from a friend who owned a metaphysical shop in Idyllwild, where they lived at the time. "These are over a 1000 years old,” his father’s friend, Frank, had said. He went on to explain that in Japan, I-Ching coins, much like the rewe, are made with the markings of the family and handed from father to son, generation after generation. “The only way to get coins this old,” Frank had said, "was if a couple, the last of a family, had no children and the man died. These are from a very old and proud family. I bought them from my mentor who lives in Japan.” His papa used to say he paid more for those coins then he had his first house,” and when he first held them in his hands, he could feel the power and the history of the family as if he were a part of it, perhaps he was.
When his father handed them to his son, who could not have been more than eight years old, Ziggy quickly took them and put them to his eyes, looking through the diamond-shaped holes in the center, and proclaimed, “Look Papa I can see Japan.” Frank and his father laughed.
The game the young Mapuche boys were playing was called Ararkuden. Eloy had told him about it. “Äwana,” Ziggy greeted the young boys. The kids stopped playing their game and stood up, clearly surprised by the Mapuche greeting for hello. "Äwana, Gringo" the biggest one responded as the other boys laughed.
After taking four years of Spanish in high school, several years working kitchens in California and three years of living in Costa Rica with his father, Ziggy had a fair command of the Spanish Language. Mapuche was much harder to get your tongue around. He was glad that all but the oldest Mapuche spoke Spanish.
“Can you teach me this game my little friend?”
“Did you bring your money with you?” the oldest boy shot back. The others chuckled at the boldness of their leader.
The game was relatively simple. Each player had eight kidney beans flattened on one side and colored with charcoal. To score points, you threw the beans in turn into a blanket, four black and four white scored one point, seven or eight of one color garnered two points. As long as you scored, you kept throwing, keeping score with small twigs. The real fun came in warding off the witty chants and bolsterer’s slang hurled at you as you made a scoring run while your opponents tried to throw you off your game.
Ziggy swore he felt the ground shake. He for sure felt the man’s presence before he saw him. (“Kelu,” Geronimo whispered in his ear.) “Lunch is ready,” he boomed. Standing up and turning, Ziggy was surprised to see that despite his impression of a very big man as seen from the ground looking up, the man was only a little taller than he was. He misjudged his size because his legs were like tree trunks and grew straight into what had to be at least size 15 shoes. They seemed to be anchored directly into the ground. Smiling, the man spoke in Spanish. “My name is Teddy.”
“I am Ziggy.”
“Thiggy” (He was use to hearing this Spanish version of his name, they always had trouble pronouncing the Z.) “I see you are playing Ararkuden with the boys, playing games with pieces of nature has a way of making you feel a part of it, don’t you think?” Not leaving time for a response he continued, “This game was played by my father and his father before that. The Mapuche have a joke that says this game was invented so we would have a use for kidney beans. I am sure you will agree, playing with them is a lot better than eating them. Join us for lunch.” Turning to the oldest boy, he commanded, “Kono we need water from the river. Take your friends and fetch some.” The kids collected the beans and the blanket and then nodded at the young man as they scurried past him.
As Teddy turned to head for the Ruka (hut) on the river, he must have sensed Ziggy’s apprehension. Over his shoulder came the words, “Come, I promise I won’t serve kidney beans and Geronimo wants me to tell you more about the ‘Corral de Aqua’ and Ruka Pallin.”
His Ruka was the nicest one the young man had seen. They all reminded Ziggy of Eskimo igloos, only made with bamboo and straw. The Mapuche themselves were a bit like Eskimos, too, having strong facial features, almost oriental. He recognized the scent coming from a large patch of sage at the entrance to the home. His father had a similar patch growing at the entrance to his mountain cabin and was always sage-ing the house and grounds. As a boy growing up, Ziggy thought all homes smelled of sage as this one did. He noticed that, like all Rukas he had seen, the entrance faced east toward the sunrise and wondered if that were because the morning meditations could be done in the sunlight?at least that was his father’s reason for facing his cabin that way.
The Ruka was one large room. In addition to sage, the smell of cinnamon hung in the air. The room had no windows and smoke from the fire in the kitchen area rose and escaped through a triangular opening in the roof, the only source of light in the room. Along the back wall were shelves of food, clay pots, a couple large strings of garlic and other supplies. To the right was a sleeping area?its two beds made the young man think that only one of the boys must be Teddy‘s. Sensing his thoughts, Teddy, watching the boys playing outside the back door, said, “The oldest boy is my son, Kono.” Ziggy took a seat at the small table by the back door. “His mother died when he was born.”
There are those moments in life when all time stops, you live your whole lifetime in a second. Every deep emotion comes to the surface, hidden memories escape, your skin feels as though it’s been exposed, for the first time to air, your lungs stop breathing and you cry, like a baby you cry. This was one of those times for Ziggy. Though it was clear that Teddy heard his sobbing, he kept talking. “There are times when he calls me ‘Ñuke’ mother. It feels good, I have been his mother and his father.” He continued, “I’ve tried to teach him patience, grounding, and to stay planted. I’ve told him stories of survival from our ancestors. I’ve talked a lot about our roots, my father’s father built this house and I wanted him to feel their presence.” He became quiet. Slowly he turned, facing the young man who still had his head in his hands. “Hold on to the family you do have but hold even tighter to the ones you’ve lost and keep your eyes open because they will be back. You just have to recognize them when they show up.”
At that moment, the black hole Ziggy carried all his life?the empty place where he kept the pain from losing his mother at birth, the guilt he felt as if it were his fault?disappeared. His existence seemed to have a red glow around it now. He watched as Teddy reached to a shelf and from under a red silk scarf pulled down a small jar. Taking a spoon from the sink he removed the lid, filled the spoon with honey and handed it to him. “Take this, it will help heal that space that is your family and it will help you to grow your own roots.” As he turned to walk out the door, Ziggy noticed that grounded way Teddy walked reminded him of elephants and for the first time in his life he felt at peace and truly connected. He felt “at home.”
After lunch, Teddy suggested Ziggy stop just up the river at his niece’s cabin. “She has spent years studying Ruka Pallin and the Corral. Her name is Armun, Mapuche for Heat. I know you two will have so much in common,” he said as he hugged the young man. “When you see my brother, Traru, further up the river, tell him I love him,” Teddy whispered, and sent Kono to make the introductions. As Teddy released him, Ziggy was going to ask him about his brother, Geronimo said, “Don’t.” So he followed Kono, north, along the path of the river.
R.E.D. (Root Earth Development) The Root Chakra
Here we find our foundation, our closest point of contact to Mother Earth. It sits just below the hip, at the base of your spine. Think of it as a large square red box. It attaches you to the Earths energy system. It runs down your legs and into the Earth like a large grounding rod or root system. We use this to stand upright. Here we find the basic things needed for survival in life, a roof over our head, food on the table, a job and those things that provide stability in our lives.
The elephant is the animal that represents this Chakra, because of the grounding way it walks. The Element connected to it is the Earth itself. It is found in the land of all the indigenous people of this planet. To connect to it one only needs look around and notice the beauty and perfection in the natural world.
Balanced Red People are solid, grounded, connected and they know what they want out of life. They tend to stay in one place and do not float around much. They are more likely to be archaeologist than searching the heaven for extraterrestrials. They are deeply connected to those souls they call family and understand the importance of forming a solid bond to those they will travel many lifetimes with. They love to work in their gardens or with the Earth such as in pottery. They always seem balanced and when they touch you or you touch them you feel grounded, similar to the feeling one gets when holding the black shiny stones Hematite. They are great to have around when you need a rock to lean on. You can always depend on them to get the job done. They are very good foundation people for an organization. When they begin to make the transition between red and orange sparks start to fly. If you are bless to be around them at this time they will be some of the most passionate and sensual people you will ever experience.
Some ask why these colors are so important; I see our colors like this. I believe we are all-through our many lifetimes-on a journey, from the Red of the Root Chakra to the Violet of the Crown Chakra. Some of us will make this journey faster than others. I think a lot depends on how fast we become comfortable at being in and understanding each color. Allowing ourselves to wear it like an old friend we can then make the decision we are ready to move on to the next color.
I believe that deep inside us is a desire to over our lifetimes continue on this journey until we become that blissful, peaceful, spiritual, healing color that is Violet. This color-space is always calling us forward.
Where do we go after we complete our lives of living in violet? Some say we become Angels. I think we have that option but I believe that most make a decision to continue to keep in touch with all they have experienced in their many lifetimes and as Steven Spielberg put it, we become ¨the Force.¨ In becoming the Chi-Life Force Energy itself we get to be everywhere and see everything at all times. We can become the cosmic telephone and help those souls who have surrounded us for so many life times move forward.
The Chi responds to the healing work I do on it, because it is alive, conscience and loves being loved. It also returns affection by healing me, those around me and the Earth as I am healing it.
The Bodies Vibration Levels
The vibration levels of the body are like the strings of a guitar, when they are in tune the music is so pure and clean, when they are out of tune plug your ears. This natural vibration can be heard in everything from the low base of the Root Chakra to the Chi matching high pitched almost dog whistle sound of the violet Crown Chakra. These sounds are in all nature that surrounds us. In the end they become silence, a pitch so high you hear nothing, but you know it is there and it relaxes you.
The vibration level of the red Chakra is a very guttural, base sounding, lets call it the low E on your guitar. ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, try to hum as low as you can. This will help establish your base level. We will be using these sounds as well as color to move our vibration level up as we go.
Why Use Reiki?
This whole hooplah about Sarah Palin – the how can she cope as a mother of five with such a demanding job? debate