Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Strange Solstice Dreams
"The true Pahana (or Bahana) is the Lost White Brother of the Hopi. Most versions have it that the Pahana or Elder Brother left for the east at the time that the Hopi entered the Fourth World and began their migrations. However, the Hopi say that he will return again and at his coming the wicked will be destroyed and a new age of peace, the Fifth World, will be ushered into the world. As mentioned above, it is said he will bring with him a missing section of a sacred Hopi stone in the possession of the Fire Clan, and that he will come wearing red. Traditionally, Hopis are buried facing eastward in expectation of the Pahana who will come from that direction."
In the home of a beloved. Watching a black tornado streak across the window. This is strange, unlike anything I have ever seen. Cats at my feet, Earth angels, they know what is out there. I pick them up and they know I know. I look out the window and there is a formation of brilliant white men, so white they look albino, with black uniform-like clothing on marching and destroying others. I close the blind, knowing they will know I can see them. I am safe here. In the house of a beloved.
"The legend of the Pahana seems intimately connected with the Aztec story of Quetzalcoatl, and other legends of Central America. This similarity is furthered by the liberal representation of Awanyu, the horned or plumed serpent, in Hopi and other Puebloan art. This figure bears a striking resemblance to figures of Quetzacoatl, the feathered serpent, in Mexico. In the early 16th century, both the Hopis and the Aztecs believed that the coming of the Spanish conquistadors was the return of this lost white prophet. Unlike the Aztecs, upon first contact the Hopi put the Spanish through a series of tests in order to determine their divinity, and having failed, the Spanish were sent away from the Hopi mesas."
Deep waves of gut wrenching sadness come out, I feel the pain of the world. The wounds that can no longer be healed because they are so terribly deep. The divided lines are never-ending trenches that can never be crossed. A cleansing, the removal of the root begins. The awake ones will be safe in the houses of their true beloveds.
The legions are divine beings, not Gods, but more evolved versions of us. The first instinct among those who do not know, is to go to them to fight, they will be recycled.
"The time would come after the people had migrated to their permanent home, he said, when they would be overcome by a strange people. They would be forced to develop their land and live according to the dictates of a new ruler or they would be treated as criminals and punished. But they were not to resist, warned Masaw. They were to wait for the person who would deliver them. This person was their lost white brother, Pahana (from pasu—salt water), who would come with the people of the rising sun from across the great salt water with the missing corner of the sacred tablet, deliver them from their persecutors, and establish a new and universal brotherhood of man."
I felt no fear, just an awareness and curiosity. The black tornadoes drew my attention, as I almost left the house of my beloved, I stopped, I wanted to go to them. But as I watched them approach a group of people, they destroyed them. It was calculated, swift and easy. One turned his head towards me, and I knew he knew I was there. I held a cat, who I stroked knowing she was an Earth Angel. I held her and we backed away from the door so that what was meant to be would be, as we waited in the home of my beloved. A bitter-sweet knowing.
"Far to the south in Mexico the return of the bearded, white god Quetzalcoatl was also anxiously awaited by the Aztecs. The myth of his arising, departure, and return was dear to every heart. Many centuries before he had appeared among the ancient Nahuatl people called Toltecs, “master artists.” He came as a great king to lay the foundations of their culture. He discovered the maize, which he gave to men; taught them to polish precious stones, to weave fabrics with cotton, to make bright-colored robes from the feathers of the quetzal; he taught the priests how to measure time from the movements of the stars, to institute ceremonies, and to fix the days for prayer and sacrifice. He was wise, good, and chaste."
The world has become ill with soul-sickness. Few are awake. Many sleep with hate in their hearts. Bitterness that deadens their love for themselves and for others. Unable to connect on levels needed anymore. Many are afraid, and filled with soul-sucking fear that sticks to their insides like tar. The ones who know how to love, and how to help others learn, need to come forward. The cat purred as I held her, an understanding communicated.
I spent the Summer Solstice in the sun and by the water. Intentionally receiving the light. Consciously opening myself completely. My 12 year old was diving off one of the rocks and found a round turtle egg. He brought it to the surface, and I wondered at the significance. How completely appropriate.
"In American Indian culture, the Turtle represents the wisdom of the ancient ones and is respected for it's strength and individuality. Those who bear the symbol of the Turtle carry the responsibility of caring for, protecting, and nurturing others.
The Turtle is considered to be the oldest, most sacred symbol of the Anishinabe and Haudenosaunee people. They believed that North America was created on the back of a turtle.
'Legend says that Father Sky's wife fell through a hole in the sky, and to keep her from drowning, little Muskrat managed to bring up a handful of soil from the bottom of the ocean; she placed it on Turtle's wide back and the land immediately began to grow, forming North America. To this day most Indigenous peoples refer to North America as Turtle Island."
We did a small ceremony honoring the turtle egg. Today on the Solstice it represented a vision for a new world. I asked to receive guidance. Then I dreamt the above dream. Before I went to sleep I had laid outside under the stars and closed my eyes. Soaking in the dusk light and as each star appeared in the skies, I drew them inside me.
"The turtle is a totem animal in Native American culture. The grandmothers and grandfathers spoke of the turtle as a symbol of mother earth and female strength. The turtle was respected for its qualities of nurturance, protection, patience, perseverance, tenacity, self-reliance, groundedness, and wisdom. The turtle teaches us that we blossom in our own time and that we must go within to find the answers that we seek."
There is power in the world, and it awaits for love to find it.
Posted by Hillary Raimo at 6:17 AM