Read an Excerpt
Journal Excerpts from the Ring o Fire
By Barbara Wolf
AuthorHouse LLCCopyright © 2014 Barbara Wolf
All rights reserved.
Mount Shasta, Meeting the Lemurians
September 23, The Equinox:
It is fire season when I am driving a rental car down a California mountain road, my husband reclining in the back seat recovering from hernia surgery and our friend Hal in the front passenger seat pointing the way. We are headed toward Mount Shasta on a beautiful, clear morning, and even the smoke earlier shrouding the mountains to the southeast has retreated. We are able to see on these neighboring mountains outlines of tall green pines and a gash of autumn bright yellow-orange here and there. Beautiful scenery.
Today is the Autumn Equinox and our destination is Mount Shasta because it is a living model of mystery where the past, present, and future fuse. I am excited to visit this place. It is my first time here, but I know this is a magical place. To actually be at the mountain itself brings a quickening to my heart, an excitement hard to describe.
Just now, however, I am paying special attention to the road, with a bit of anxiety mixed with my excitement because there are no guard rails lining this mountain road and I am thinking that a sudden mistake would send us plunging. I ask our California friend how he can drive this road in the winter, and he is saying that the rain changes to snow only near the top, and he does not live here in the winter.
I feel relief when we are off the mountain road, driving on smooth, paved Scott River Road with a gentle, twisting river beside us. Where I live, we would call it a stream. A couple days ago, it was hidden by smoke. I am thinking of the fish in this river/stream, and suddenly I see a blue heron. Fishing, probably. Beautiful scenery! How different is our experience today from a couple days ago when my husband and I were following with great anxiety a pickup truck as it made its way through dense smoke to reach the mountain road that would take us to the top, to the home of our California friend.
With the smoke gone today, we see For Sale signs in front of small ranch houses. Our friend says the economy is depressed here. This is cattle country and we see barns and fences, and yes, some cattle are grazing, even some sheep, and, yes, look to the left, a rancher has just begun to cut his crop of grain. We are going along slowly, looking at this beautiful countryside, and finally we come to a ranger station and a modern supermarket called Gils Market. We are at the town of Fort Jones. A big sign, 'Thank you, Fire Fighters!' is draped above the main street. I slow the car a bit when our friend warns me to be mindful of the local sheriff who takes a dim view of speeding.
Soon the road begins to climb and when the climb becomes steep, I shift to a lower gear. The little rental car does not have much power. We reach the town of Yreka, pass McDonalds, turn onto I-5 Expressway, and head south toward Mount Shasta. Now we are expectantly looking for the big mountain, but we do not see it. On clear days, says our friend, he can see it from his neighbor's house.
The sky is becoming overcast, and as we drive closer to Mount Shasta, the sky is becoming more and more overcast and we are beginning to see cars coming toward us with headlights shining. Oh dear! To our left, is that Shasta? I am looking at a shrouded, tall, twin-peaked mountain close to the road. No, says our friend, not Shasta. He is expressing amazement that we cannot see Shasta.
Finally a road sign tells us to leave this good road if we want to go to the town of Mount Shasta, and we obey this road sign and quickly we are arriving at the town. Its Western-style wide streets are clean and orderly. The main intersection is at Lake and Mount Shasta Boulevards, and a big Shell station stands at the corner. I park our rental car and we begin looking for a bookstore with spiritual tendencies. Our friend has told us there is such a bookstore. Yes, here it is, and we enter this place and we are greeted by strong, spiritual energy reminding me of the Edgar Cayce center in Virginia Beach.
A man and woman run this bookstore, both strongly occult, as one would expect, both strongly intuitive. The man is young, late twenties, tall and thin. I ask him the direction for Mount Shasta and he is explaining how one can get up the mountain by taking this road and that road and turning here and there. When he finishes, I face the front window and ask if this is the direction for Mount Shasta. Yes.
The pull of the mountain is so strong, I find it unusual not to be able to see it. Before entering the bookstore, we three have joked that we are probably the first to come to Mount Shasta and not see it. Well, of course our friend has seen it many times.
I am now leaving the bookstore, walking alone up Lake Street toward the mountain I cannot see, looking for a good place to meditate, walking along the Western street, so clean and orderly, walking slowly up a gradual incline, knowing I am at the foot of the big mountain, looking at the flowers and the green grass in front of the small, neat houses, looking for a good place to meditate, and yes, just ahead, just beyond the last house, just over there under a roadside tree, yes, that will be a good place. The tree overhanging the road will give shade to the car.
I return to the bookstore and arrange to meet my husband and friend later, and then I am taking the rental car and driving up Lake to the place where the tree overhangs the street at the foot of the big mountain I cannot see, and I am parking the car with the front passenger window open to give air. There is need for an open window. It is hot.
11:15 a.m., on this day of the Autumn Equinox, I begin meditating, facing the big mountain with its big vibrations, thinking on this mountain. No, that is not exactly correct. I am thinking on the Lemurians. I have been thinking on the Lemurians since I entered the bookstore, when the first meeting with the man made a link between the present human race and the Lemurians. His vibrations have told me that. I have seen that.
The Lemurians are in the mountain in front of me. I cannot see them with my physical eyes, but I know they are there. I begin meditating, removing myself from the third dimension, entering the vibrations of this place. So strong are the vibrations of the Lemurians! And yes, this strength raises my energies high, high, high! Such strength, this place! Such LIGHT! I can see this with my inner eye. And yes, I am entering the council chamber of the Lemurians. They are accepting me, but not as one of them. I know this. I am an accepted visitor. We are celebrating the Autumn Equinox together. No, wrong word. We are not celebrating. We are working. We are working for Mother Earth!
It is coming close to twelve noon now and I am turning my thoughts away from the Lemurians, focusing on Libra, yes, Libra, the Lords of Libra, they who bring strong Light, strong balance at the Equinox. And I am also thinking on the Pleiadians, our brothers. And I am also thinking on the Lords of Sirius, yes, yes, they who help our planet. And yes, I am thinking on the Light of Buddha and on the Light of the Christ and on the others. I am combining the power of all who help us.
All that Light is coming down at noon of the Autumn Equinox to Mount Shasta where the Lemurians are uniting to make this place strong, strong with the vibrant thought form of LOVE.
Now this united, powerful Light of LOVE is spread throughout all of Mother Earth.
* * *
I return to the bookstore, and when I open the door, the man who operates the bookstore and I look at each other. He is the link between the present human race and the Lemurians. We do not speak. There is no need to speak because we understand. It is time to leave the bookstore with my husband and friend.
In the night, when I am in the Astral with the Lemurians, I am with a man, tall, thin, similar in many ways to the man in the bookstore. He gives me a book, small, square, thick with large print and a sturdy cover with tiny stones attached to it. There are nine small stones. With the man is a woman of French-Canadian features, dark hair, pale complexion as if she has never seen the sun, wearing an Angora sweater embedded with many tiny pearls. Her sweater reminds me of the fashion style of years ago. She begins telling me about the past of the Lemurians and I am interrupting her. I do not want to talk about the past. That is not important just now. What is important is today. Today is the time of the great crisis.
Curious, these people of yesterday who have a different concept of time from we present humans. They think in terms of immense blocks of time. Strange to have worked with them in the council chamber.
* * *
It is now the next day, Thursday, the 24th, and I am in my noon meditation. I am thinking for a moment of the Lemurians in their council chamber, and I am surprised they are not in the chamber. When I question their absence, the Higher Worlds tell me it is not the Equinox and so they are not in their council chamber at this hour. I am surprised because I have assumed they will always be in their council chamber.CHAPTER 2
Kauai, Island of Love
Now I am ready to visit the island of Love, as I call Kauai, a Hawaiian island I think retains perfection inherited from ancient Lemuria. I expect to find Love in the land, in the mountains, the trees, the flowers, and yes, in humans who dwell here. This is my first visit and I am impatient to learn whether or not I am correct.
If I meet the legacy of Love, then I will use it to overlay faulty reality needing to be changed. That is what one can do. It is not necessary to call in a crowd to help. Yes, mass consciousness on a mass basis would be helpful, but one has to be practical. If one is alone, then one must begin with the Self, and with the knowledge that All is One, All is Mass Consciousness. I can create a reality of perfection and overlay it on reality needing to be changed with the realization that the thought form produced REMAINS. It is energy. Crack open the door to a new possibility and have the FAITH that the energy of creating a reality will attract itself to those whose job it is to help change the situation. That is how it is done.
In any case, just before evening, 5 p.m., I have arrived at Lihue Airport on the island of Kauai, and I am waiting to speak with the manager of American International Car Rentals who is on the phone refusing a rental car to someone. When she hangs up, she tells me there are only two rental cars left, and do I want one of them? I hesitate. I do not need a car tonight, but I will need one tomorrow. She says planes will arrive on the island for another two hours and who knows whether the two remaining cars will be rented and whether there will be a rental car available for me tomorrow morning. I am tired. I do not want to bother with a rental car today. I decide to take my chances tomorrow.
A taxi driver takes me two miles to where I have made reservations with Spike, a carpenter by trade, who has built his own hotel. The driver, as we are going along, glances at me in the mirror and asks why I am staying at Spike's place when a woman like me should be staying in town so I can walk up and down the streets and see things. I shrug my shoulders.
He takes me along a good asphalt road with no traffic and stops in front of a small, triple-decker complex with no identifying sign. We have arrived. I am looking at this place out here alone without a sign, pickup trucks parked in front, wondering if I have made a mistake. I pay the taxi driver and he gives me a ripe yellow papaya, cautioning me to take out the seeds before eating it. Seeds aren't eaten, he warns. I am thanking him, knowing that tonight my supper will be his papaya and my dry food from home.
An Hawaiian man looking fifty with a square face is standing in the yard next to a large, white fishing boat hoisted onto a rack. I ask if he is Spike. Yes, and as he smiles, his eyes become slits. All his face becomes slits. Lots of slits on that face. Good face. Kind man.
We enter his hotel that has no sign and we go to his small concrete block office that is functional, not fancy. A waterway for carp comes into the office from an outside pool and I am greeting the fish. Big yellow, orange, black, multi-colored carp. Spike says they can live 200 years. He tells me he has to clean his carp pool often because the algae grows very fast in the pool, and then he adds in a joking way that maybe the carp like the algae in order to hide from the people. But the fish aren't hiding from me. I am talking to them and they are coming to see what all this is about.
Spike gives me the key to Room 9 on the second floor, and I am finding my room by climbing an outside concrete stairway between buildings. As I climb, what do I see here? A concrete covered water causeway attached to many narrow water pipes. Why? My room has lost its number tag, but '9' is penciled on the door, so I know my key will fit the lock. I enter the room, which is quite large and has a small refrigerator. Good. Also, there is a balcony. Spike's place has interested me because of the balcony. I am looking out at a parking area of pickup trucks and old cars and beyond these is the street with no traffic, then a pink flowering hedge and bushes, and then untamed sandy ground with low bushes and palm trees. Beyond this is the ocean. Yes, the blue blue ocean. That is what I want to see. Yes, this place, Spike's place, is exactly where I want to be.
* * *
I sleep well and wake as dawn begins. A somewhat red sky is in the East with the sun thinking about rising from the dark ocean. The remainder of the sky is black. I am lying with my head at the foot of the bed looking out, the balcony glass door open, screen in place to keep out mosquitoes, and I am hearing them buzzing to get into this warm room. It is cold outside and they are sensing the warmth, and probably me.
It is quiet, very quiet. The birds are not yet awake. I am looking at the stars in the black sky. So many of them. Bright, bright. I wait for the black ocean to begin turning to dark blue, and now I am beginning to see the outlines of palm trees sharp against the dark sea. I am watching all this, and yes, I am thinking this is exactly where I should be, at Spike's place. Not in the town. A man comes out of the darkness, goes to a pickup truck, starts it, and drives away. Soon another and then another. Time for work here on this island of Kauai. I am lying here on my bed, watching.
7:15 a.m., I am with Spike in his office and he is phoning American International Car Rentals. The man who answers says there is a car for me. Only one to choose from. No air conditioning. Am I satisfied? Yes. Someone from the rental office will come for me, and within ten minutes a young man is at Spike's place to pick me up. He drives me through the quiet countryside, avoiding the town of Lihue, and at the airport, a little red Nissan is waiting for me. The man at the rental office is shaking his head in disbelief as he hands me the keys. He says just before Spike called asking about a rental car for me, the manager has phoned him to say that a Barbara Wolf at the Ocean View Motel will phone and she is to have the only remaining rental car. And yes, Spike has phoned less than two minutes later. Thank you, Higher Worlds! I have my rental car! The rental man is still shaking his head in disbelief as I drive away.
This little red car will see much driving. I intend to intensely feel the vibrations of this island of Kauai that I call the island of Love in order to experience the vibrations of ancient Lemuria. My first priority will be to drive in the mountains to see Mt.Waialeale. Its name means overflowing water, an appropriate name for a mountain receiving the most rain in all the world. A clean mountain, I am thinking. After a shower, one feels clean. This will be a clean mountain. Clean vibrations.
Today, as I begin my journey to this mountain, the land is bathed in sunshine. Perfect.
Excerpted from Journal Excerpts from the Ring o Fire by Barbara Wolf. Copyright © 2014 Barbara Wolf. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.