Distant Lands – a Traveler’s Bookstore

20 S. Raymond Ave.
Pasadena, California 91105

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“They’ll cut your head off down there!”

Having spent the last decade traveling to some of the more exotic, if occasionally troubled, parts of the world, I’m used to friends and family responding hyperbolically to certain destination choices. But this was a high water mark.

“Mom. It’s Mexico, not Somalia.”

“Well, don’t you watch the news?”

Ah, here we go…

In her defense, I didn’t actually know a whole lot more about Mexico than my mom did. Certainly by the time I returned home from my recent visit to Guadalajara I realized I didn’t really know much of anything about the place.

Technically I’ve been to Mexico twice before: once as a kid living in Texas, and once 20 years ago, when I landed in Cabo San Lucas the day after a hurricane had all but flattened the place. Neither of those trips even remotely prepared me for the beautiful, spirited, spiritual place – and people – I was greeted with.

I was invited to participate in Meeting Place Mexico, a “marketplace” for people in the travel business. I’d never been to one of these events before, so I thought, “why not?” It’s kind of like speed-dating for the travel industry.

My very first meeting would set the tone for the entire week. It was with the Hard Rock Resort. The guy I was meeting looked like Thor’s twin brother.

I told Thor: “Look, I do spiritual travel, so please don’t take this personally, but the Hard Rock isn’t the kind of place for us.”

Thor said: “No problem. We don’t want to waste anybody’s time.”

This was gonna be a short meeting.

Then Thor said: “Spiritual travel, huh? That’s cool. So you know about the Huichol Indians?”

“Uh… no…” I said setting my stuff back down on the table.

“They’re the most magical people. They live high up in the mountains, so they were never conquered by the Spanish. They still hold their native, shamanic beliefs from thousands of years ago and they make the most beautiful art you’ve ever seen.”

I spent the next 90 minutes talking to Thor. So much for anything I thought I knew about Mexico, or the Mexican people. Or the Hard Rock Cafe for that matter.

The spa at Hacienda El Carmen.

There’s Tlaquepaque: an art and culture center so truly delightful you can barely bring yourself to leave. The unique, round pyramids at Guachimontones high in the foothills of Jalisco – more than 2,000 years old and one of the world’s most unique sacred sites. And then there’s Guadalajara itself: proud, beautiful, steeped in colonial history.

But more than the landscape, the architecture, or the cuisine, the thing that impressed me the most were the people. So genuinely warm, open, proud of their country, aware of both the remarkable heritage of the land and the modern reality of the nation.

The Sun and the Moon by Sergio Bustamante.

And almost without exception, when I mentioned “spiritual travel,” they lit up and shared some secret with me – either a personal story, or some hidden spiritual gem that I had to know about.

This happened over and over again.

When I was a kid living in Texas and my parents said we were going to visit Mexico, I conjured vivid images of men in sombreros leaning against cactuses. The reality of Nuevo Laredo, a modern city with cars and bridges and restaurants, was truly shocking to my child’s mind.

While not quite as comical, the difference between what I expected and I what I got on my latest trip was almost just as dramatic. Mexico was full of wonder and beauty and spirit, and I can’t wait to go back.

Photos by Spirit Quest Tours, The Tao of Photography and Introducing Nancy.

There are 9 “directional” temples that cover Bali. These temples are each dedicated to a different deity from the Balinese Hindu Pantheon. In addition, each temple (and direction) is associated with a color, a weapon (or ritual object), a sound, a written symbol and a part of the body. This is also called “Nawa Sanga” (both “nawa” and “sanga” mean nine in Sanskrit) which symbolizes the totality of existence. The Nawa Sanga is a mandala drawn across the body of the island in the form of these “directional” temples.

One of the most dramatic of these nine is Pura Uluwatu, which also has the distinction of being, not only one of the “Temples of the Sea” but one of the six uber-sacred “Temples of the World” which are dedicated to the blessings, purification and maintenance of the entire planet.

As a result of this trifecta of spiritual significance, Uluwatu is one of the Bali’s most revered and powerful sites, but it’s also one of the most stunningly picturesque – sitting atop a sheer cliff that drops hundreds of feet into the pounding azure surf of the Indian Ocean. From the walls of the temples you can clearly see dolphins and sea turtles plying the crystal water below.

Belying it’s gorgeous setting, Uluwatu is dedicated to the god Rudra (which means “howler” or “screamer”). In the oldest, Vedic conception, Rudra is a malignant storm and wind god also considered to be the god of death; the living symbol of raw, uncultured nature. He fires diseased arrows of sickness at gods, men and animals. As Hinduism emerged from the Vedic religion, Rudra changed to become a more beneficent and beautiful god. Eventually becoming thought of as the lord of animals, the patron of hunters, and a god of auspicious luck. Like Sekhmet in Egypt, Rudra has a dual aspect as both destroyer (he is called “The Dissolver of Life”) and as healer.

Appropriately, this site is very hot compared to other parts of the island, so I find it’s best to visit early in the morning. There’s a Kecak and fire dance performed here at sunset – while it’s a tourist performance (not an authentic ceremonial dance), the drama and beauty of the setting can still make it a worthwhile experience. As with all Balinse temples, you won’t be allowed to enter the temple itself unless you are properly dressed (sarong, sash, headdress for men) and bring an appropriate offering. Of course this is something that we always do at Spirit Quest Tours. There is a gorgeous park area surrounding the temple grounds that makes for a shady respite from the heat of the day, as well as offering amazing ocean views of the cliff faces and the temple itself.

Finally, Uluwatu is the home to a very aggressive and mischievous troop of monkeys. I’ve seen a lot of monkeys on Bali, most of them are fairly gentle and tractable, but not the ones at Uluwatu. It’s best to carefully hide way glasses, cameras, hats or jewelry, as they harass visitors, holding pretty much anything they can get their hands on for ransom. The going rate? Two pieces of fruit: one for each of the monkey’s paws. Anything less and they’ll hold onto your stuff with one hand while eating the food with the other.

At one point it seemed that President Obama was planning a visit to Bali which was to include a stop at Uluwatu.

The Secret Service worked out an eloborate plan to deal with the local monkey mafia: crates of food were going to be brought in weeks in advance, to make the monkey fat and lazy, then multiple tiers of protection were to be deployed with two aims: keep the monkeys from stealing any guns, and, most importantly, keep them from climbing the President. Two inner tiers of body-guards were to circle the president at all time, armed not with weapons, but with bananas.

Despite the heat, the aggressive monkeys, and the disquieting nature of the patron deity Rudra, a visit to Uluwatu will add immensely to your experience of Balinese spirituality.

Just make sure you have a banana or two on hand.

Here’s a video podcast i did back in 2006 about the “8th Wonder of the World” Edward Leedskalnin’s mysterious “Coral Castle.”

Almost accidentally, we found ourselves at “The Coral Castle” just south of Miami Florida. Built by the eccentric and mysterious Ed Leedskelnin as a tribute to lost love, the castle is made from thousands of tons of coral – all quarried, cut and assembled by hand, using only simple tools and no machines.

“I have discovered the secrets of the pyramids, and have found out how the Egyptians and the ancient builders in Peru, Yucatan, and Asia, with only primitive tools, raised and set in place blocks of stone weighing many tons!”

-Edward Leedskalnin

Click here to view the embedded video.

By now millions of people have been introduced to the island of Bali through Liz Gilbert’s best-selling memoir “Eat, Pray, Love.” The recent movie with Julia Roberts and Javier Bardem has increased people’s awareness of the island. But does the place itself live up to the fairy-tale quality shown in the book and film?

According to Greg Roach of Spirit Quest Tours, the reality of Bali actually exceeds the picture painted in the media. Using gorgeous photographs, video, humorous anecdotes and amazing facts, Greg’s signature presentation style will bring Bali vividly to life.

He’ll share the insider’s secrets he’s gleaned from years of travel to “The Island of 10,000 Temples.” Would you like to meet Ketut Liyer, the “Balian” from Liz Gilbert’s book? Greg’s spent hours with him and will talk about what one of his “readings” is really like.

Ketut Liyer

What about the powerful mysticism of the Balinese religion? Greg will help you understand the difference between Siwa and shakti. From tooth-filing to rubber time, cremation ceremonies, magical daggers, coconut wine, flowing volcanoes, sacred snakes, weasel coffee, roast suckling pig and chewing betel nut, this fascinating presentation will reveal the magical island of Bali in a unique and compelling way.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Click here to view the embedded video.

To be specific, I’ve hiccupped pretty much non-stop for the last 24 hours.

The taxi driver is freaking out a little. Not bad, and not about my hiccups, but the anxiety level is rising in the car. We’re lost.

<Hiccup>

“Where you friend go? He drive too fast! This the street! This where he said, but he not here!”

All of this was true enough. Thirty minutes earlier my Balinese friend, Yanta, had given the driver a few rapid-fire directives in Indonesian, then sped off into the snarl and tangle of Denpasar on his scooter, quickly outpacing the car.

Now we were crawling down an empty back street, drawing curious stares from a group of young guys shooting a game of billiards on a decrepit pool table that sat in the middle of the sidewalk.

<Hiccup>

“You have his mobile? You SMS?”

Shit. Tactical error.

If we were anywhere other than Bali I’d be worried. It would be easy to mistake this neighborhood for a “bad part of town,” but in Bali there really seems to be no such thing.

I glance at my taxi-mate, Loryann, my look implying, “You okay?” She flashes a brilliant smile and says, “I’ve been to the Philippines. I’m not worried.”

“What you meet your friend for? What is building? House?”

Uh… Tactical error #2. No clue “what is building.”

I spitball. “We’re here for a meditation with Gede. At his meditation center?”

The driver brightens a little. Something concrete.

“What is other name? Gede what?”

And stee-rike three! In Bali, where you’re named based on your birth order, there’s a 25% chance anyone’s gonna be named “Gede.” Without the rest of his name I might as well be looking for “John.” Actually someone named John would be easier to find.

The driver looks at me like I’m an idiot, which is fair. He stops in the middle of the street and jumps out of the car, engine idling and door open. Loryann smiles again. I hiccup back.

This little adventure began many months prior, when, on a prior visit to Bali, my friend Yanta introduced me to his guru, Gede.

When I first met Gede I thought he was way too young to be a spiritual adept. And his hair was too good: thick, black, movie star hair. How can you be a guru and have movie star hair?

After that first meeting, Gede invited me to join him for a meditation ceremony. I’ve learned over the years to say yes to these kinds of invitations (which has netted me everything from meals with Coptic monks to witnessing a ritual exorcism under a full moon). So here I am, clueless in Denpasar, and feeling doubly troubled since I’ve dragged poor Loryann along into what should be my personal muddle.

Loryann’s a nurse, but when Gede first met her, he declared her to be a “spiritual healer.” So I impulsively invited her tonight – thinking this would make a good introduction into the world of spirituality. If I hadn’t invited her, it would matter a lot less that we were lost, that I had no phone number to call, that I didn’t know what Gede’s last name was. Actually, if I hadn’t invited her I probably would just have ridden on the back of Yenta’s scooter. But regardless, here we are and I’m feeling simultaneously stupid, responsible, and, thanks to the hiccups, dyspeptic. Maybe I didn’t really think this through…

As he returns to the car, the driver announces, “No one here heard of Gede Meditation!” Gede now has a last name at least. Gede Meditation might not be accurate, but it’s descriptive.

Our slow crawl continues. A scooter zooms up next to us. It’s Yenta!

“Where’d you go, Baba G?!” This is often what my friends in Bali call me.

“Where did you go, Yenta!?” I reply.

He fires directions at the driver and zooms off again. A few turns later, and we’re there.

Yenta and Hari, my other long-time Balinese guide and friend, both stand waiting as we hop gratefully out of the cab.

“Baba G!”

“Hari!”

“Baba G!”

“Yenta!”

“Loryann!”

“Hari!”

 <Hiccup>

We make our way inside. It’s not exactly the “meditation center” I’ve conjured in my imagination. It’s a typical Balinese family compound: smallish, clean, middle-class. Traditional Balinese homes are actually a collection of buildings that center on a shared, open-air commons. Each building has a specific function: worship, sleep, cooking, etc. It’s a very comfortable arrangement, especially given Bali’s mild climate, but quite different from western style homes.

Of the dozen or so Balinese in the courtyard, no one seems particularly surprised to see Loryann or I. In her case, this is understandable: she’s Filipino and with her brown skin and dazzling white smile could easily pass for a local. In the “temple dress” we’ve been told to wear – sarongs, sashes – she looks even more authentic. Me, on the other hand, no one is gonna mistake for a local, regardless of how hard I rock the man-dress.

“Om swastiastu!” I offer enthusiastically to the group, palms pressed together in the traditional greeting.

“Om swastiastu!” they reply in unison.

<Hiccup>

<Laugh>

<Blush>

We all mill around for a few minutes, a little uncertainly. Out of the side of her mouth, Loryann asks, “What’s going on?”

I whisper back, “I have no idea.”

Suddenly the ornately carved double doors on the compound’s small temple pop open and Gede peers out into the courtyard, squinting beneath his shock of hair. He brightens when he sees Loryann and me, then ducks back inside and begins to ring a small bell.

At once the group slides off their shoes and shuffles into the small vestibule of the temple, motioning for Loryann and me to go in front.

The interior is lit by a dozen flickering candles placed around a shrine in one corner of the room. Gede sits cross-legged on the floor. The air is close with the smell of heavy, sweet incense, and the sound of the bell in Gede’s hand bounces around the tiny space. I can tell from the rich, resonate tones that this bell is made from an alloy of five sacred metals. I wonder how old it is?

The atmosphere in the room is already intoxicating. Loryann looks wide-eyed as she sits. Everyone packs into the small space, sitting cross-legged like Gede. Save for the pure, clear, ding-ding-ding from Gede’s bell, it’s silent.

I choose a spot at the back, and press my spine against the cool brick wall. Next to me a young guy, also sporting movie-star hair, settles in, smiles at me, and lights a massive bundle of incense. He begins to ritually bathe in the smoke, washing his hands and face in the traditional way, before motioning for me to join him.

The pungent smoke wafts over me as I scoop it towards my face and up over the crown of my head. Gede begins to chant in Sanskrit over the ringing bell. The Balinese begin to sing. The sound is dirge-like, evocative, haunting. I close my eyes as the tones from the bell and the chant and the song combine with the smoke and the energy in the room to lift my consciousness up, out and awa…

<HICCUP>

Fuck. The next half-hour is a bizarre combination of sputtering transcendence and self-consciousness. Led by Gede, the group cycles through a series of prayers, chants and songs. Some of them rock rhythmically back and forth. Periodically, one young woman makes a deep kind of retching sound. The energy in the room is remarkable. But each time I’m about to achieve that familiar, blissful, meditative “click” in my consciousness, my diaphragm spasms and my awareness slams back into my body. I feel like a bird chained to a perch. I can only rise a few wing-strokes into the air before I’m jerked back down to where I started…

I worry about Lorryann. While for me this is all unexpected and exhilarating, it’s also familiar. I have been steeped in the world’s weirdness for years now, but she’d kind of “fresh off the boat.” I hope that, for her, it’s neither too alien nor too overwhelming.

The guy next to me raises his hands into the air, channeling energy into the room. I close my eyes again and join him. To my inner eye, I see everyone glowing like gorgeous, luminous balls of energy, suffused with a golden light. I raise my hands, palms out, breathe in, and activate my heart and crown chakras. As I exhale I send a wave of love from my palms, and the center of my chest, out into the room.

<HICCUP>

In frustration I open my eyes. Loryann is scooting forward towards Gede. He takes her hands, and the guy next to me moves towards her, touching her in the middle of the back, tapping, drawing the shape of letters across her back, gently slapping her shoulders. Gede tones deeply.

I close my eyes again and raise my palms toward Loryann.

The intensity of the song around us increases.

As we shuffle out of the little room into the cool night air Loryann mouths a silent, “WOW.”

We’re led around to the side of the temple, beside a high stone well filled with clear water, where the congregation (I really don’t know what else to call them) begins a purification ceremony for us. Gede is still in the temple room, chanting, praying and ringing the bell. The guy who shared his incense with me, who I realize now must be Gede’s right-hand man, jumps up on the side of the well and uses a long wooden ladle to scoop out massive dipperfuls of water. I keep the high watch for Loryann, and then step forward to take my turn.

<HICCUP>Man, I’ll be glad when these stop.

The ladle is dipped into the well. Gede’s assistant gently tells me to “Wash.” I raise my cupped hands and he fills them with cold, sweet water, which I splash onto my face. The congregation begins to sing. Their voices are beautiful, moving. The Sanskit is an impenetrable, evocative mystery.

More water. I splash my face and neck. “Now, your ears, nose and mouth.” Of course. The congregation draws close. Water is gently poured onto the crown of my head. I close my eyes, tip my head back and let it run, cool and refreshing, over me. The song grows stronger. I’m handed a huge bundle of burning incense, which I hold between my palms, fragrant smoke billowing. More water is poured. Now my shoulders are wet. Hands reach gently for me, slowly washing my neck, upper back and arms. More water is drawn and poured onto my crown. The chants grow more intense.

Soon I am soaked, as a dozen loving hands work the steady, insistent flow of water over me: chest, arms, neck, belly, legs, calves…

Suddenly I am drawn into the heavens and blessed with one of the most extraordinary states of consciousness I have ever known. I am at the very center of existence. Life itself breathes through me, here at this crossroads of the human and divine. Above me, the wheeling stars welcome my exultant soul. Below me the Earth herself is palpable and alive. Around me, I am enfolded in the arms of the beautiful community, the very essence of human compassion. I am the rose flowering on the cross: a flaming amalgam of temporal and infinite, human and cosmic, transcendent and contained.

My hiccups are gone.

A beautiful young woman, the one who made the retching sounds earlier, stands in front of me. With a single, fierce movement she snuffs out the burning incense on her palms and slides the ash down the middle of my forehead in a long, fragrant smear.

After we change into dry clothes, Loryann and I lounge around with the congregation on the porch of the temple. The atmosphere is light, joyous, casual. In a corner of the compound, a few guys watch a soccer game: Arsenal versus Manchester United. We all joke and laugh and giggle. It’s so easy. We’re family now.

We write down our full names and birthdays and Gede calculates our Balinese names.

Loryann is Ni Putu Tasya Shanti Dehe: The woman who possesses peace in her heart in the name of God.

I am I Wayan Widya Balawatam: The man who has the power of spiritual knowledge. Hopefully after tonight that’s a little bit more true.

Gede twists up two simple white bracelets out of a raw bunch of cotton and ties them to our wrists, deftly trimming down the ends.

I wear it as I type this. It’s a constant, gentle reminder of that night. With no way to take them off, we’ll wear them until they break.

Each time I catch sight of that simple homespun circle I find myself wondering: What happened? What was all that? It certainly wasn’t the “meditation” I thought I’d be getting when I accepted this invitation months before.

Could we call it a baptism? I suppose. Not in the Christian sense, of course, but it certainly felt that way. I felt reborn: a new person to go with my new name. No matter what it was, I can never forget that long, timeless moment when I was cradled in the arms of the cosmos and bathed by the hands of man.

Facts are like hiccups: dragging me back down to the perch when I would rather soar.

And just as the Sanskrit was more powerful for not being fully understood, so it is with the rest of that night.

Martin Sheen, plays Tom, an American doctor who comes to St. Jean Pied de Port, France to collect the remains of his adult son, killed in the Pyrenees in a storm while walking The Camino de Santiago, also known as The Way of Saint James.

Driven by his profound sadness and desire to understand his son better, Tom decides to embark on the historical pilgrimage, leaving his “California bubble life” behind.

Armed with his son’s backpack and guidebook, Tom navigates the 800km historical pilgrimage from the French Pyrenees, to Santiago de Compostela in the north west of Spain, but soon discovers that he will not be alone on this journey.

While walking The Camino, Tom meets other pilgrims from around the world, all broken and looking for greater meaning in their lives: a Dutchman (Yorick van Wageningen) a Canadian (Deborah Kara Unger) and an Irish writer (James Nesbitt) who is suffering from a bout of “writer’s block.”

From the hardship experienced along “The Way” this unlikely quartet of misfits create an everlasting bond and Tom begins to learn what it means to be a citizen of the world again, and discovers the difference between “The life we live and the life we choose.”

“The Way” was filmed entirely in Spain and France along the actual Camino de Santiago.

Click here to view the embedded video.

I’d been conducting a master’s class at Cambridge and was on the train returning to London as the planes hit the towers, so at first I had no idea that anything had happened. As I was walking through King’s Cross, I had this feeling that something was amiss, but it was so far below the surface of awareness it didn’t fully register – but there was something odd and unpleasant in the air. The feeling grew while standing in the taxi queue: there was a palpable agitation and anxiousness in the people around me. It’s only in hindsight that I became aware of it.

One of the oddest moments came when I spoke to the cabbie. I gave him my destination through the window and he barely acknowledged me. Then, when I climbed into the cab, he didn’t turn down the radio, which was playing quite loudly. I love London cabbies for their demeanor and professionalism, and his general self-absorbtion really struck me as strange.

I was just about to ask him to turn off the radio, when the announcer’s words hit home. Suddenly all of the subliminal pieces from the previous hour tumbled into place.

I was shocked. I couldn’t understand what they were talking about. I struggled to absorb it…

I asked the cabbie: “What’s going on? What happened?”

He suddenly realized my situation: I was an American and I hadn’t yet heard the news. I’ll never forget the look on his face or the tremor in his voice when he said “They’ve attacked us.”

He wouldn’t take any money for the fare.

I spent the next week glued to the television: CNN and the BBC. I’d watch until I couldn’t take any more, then I’d leave and just walk the streets.

Over and over, wherever I went, when people realized I was an American, there was always a spontaneous expression of comfort, grief, solidarity… It didn’t matter their nationality or background. It was incredibly moving. There were times when I stood and cried with total strangers on the street.

My usual habit was to walk until I encountered a church or place of worship. Then I’d go in and just sit in the quiet.

Once I wandered into a Greek Orthodox Church and stumbled across a wedding rehearsal. I just sat quietly in the last row of pews and watched. After a few minutes I got up to leave just as an elderly woman dressed in black came in. I held the door for her and said “Pardon me.”

The instant she heard my voice she took my hand, and with tears in her eyes, began to speak passionately in Greek. I had no idea what she was saying, but I understood her perfectly. Suddenly I realized the rehearsal had stopped and the entire family was gathered around us, patting me on the back, cooing words of comfort.

Two months later I traveled to Egypt, where despite my fears, I encountered many of the same sentiments as that first remarkable week in London.

In the months and years since 9/11 I traveled extensively throughout Europe and the Middle East and I saw how that amazing sense of brotherhood morphed and metastasized as we invaded Afghanistan, then Iraq, and as revelations came about Abu Ghraib, Guantanamo, Blackwater, waterboarding, etc., etc…

My hope for the future? That the US (and to a lesser extent, the UK & Europe) will acknowledge and change the policies and failings that contributed to the disaster. That Islamic states can achieve a greater measure of democracy, security and prosperity.

But most importantly, that it won’t take something as horrible as 9/11 to keep compassion, kindness and our shared humanity foremost in our hearts and minds.

Tempus fugit…

My screeching alarm clock coincides perfectly with the call to prayer from a nearby mosque. It’s before dawn and I’m both disoriented and angry.

Where am I again? Oh yeah. Cairo.

Why am I awake so early?  Oh yeah. Emil.

I’ve just worked two weeks straight and, regardless of the opinions of the muezzin or my travel alarm, I should still be fucking asleep.

I’ve stayed in Egypt for an extra week beyond the end of a recent trip: just catch a little downtime and have some R&R after two intense weeks of pilgrimage and group travel. I have access to an apartment in Cairo, so this made it easy, and cheap. I’m looking forward to my first morning of sleeping late and having nothing to do or anyplace to be. So when my friend and guide of 12 years, Emil, calls the night before to say “You must come with me tomorrow” I’m a little hesitant. But I have learned over the years to say “yes” to the universe – especially when it shows up as Emil saying “You must come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Wadi Natrun.”

I like the name. “Where is that?”

“Halfway to Alex.” Anybody who’s been to Egypt more than once knows you don’t call it “Alexandria.” It’s just Alex.

“What’s there?”

“You will see. You will love it!”

That’s always the clincher. When Emil says “you will love it” I do.

Wadi El-Natroun, which translates roughly as “the valley of the minerals” (natron is actually a salt used in the mummification process), is not only the current epicenter of Coptic Christianity in Egypt, it was one of the very first areas to adopt Christianity during the first centuries of the Common Era.  In fact it might actually be the oldest enclave of Christianity in the world.

During the second Jewish revolt Rome not only destroyed Jerusalem, renaming it Aelia Capitolina, it forbade Jews to return to the city on pain of death. As a result the very earliest forms of Christianity, which were in truth a mutation of Judaism, flourished in areas outside of Jerusalem itself.

While the Diaspora flowed in many directions around the Mediterranean and into Anatolia and Europe, the delta region of Egypt made a natural refuge and provided a ready environment for the new religion to take root.

Coptic Christianity is, indeed, the oldest form of Christianity in the world, having been brought here by St. Mark in the first century A.D., and is a fascinating syncretism of Christian and Egyptian belief. The Coptic liturgy, performed in the Coptic language, is the closest thing to the sound of the ancient Egyptian language.

I have been many times to the Coptic areas of Old Cairo, but the opportunity to visit the Coptic equivalent of The Vatican is truly exciting, even at this God-forsaken hour.

It’s cold, even for January, so I throw on a down jacket over my galabayah – the long traditional “man dress” worn by many Egyptians. It might be a pretense, but it just feels strange to wear western clothes when I’m here.

Emil cackles when he see me.

“You look like a baggage handler!”

“Should I change?”

“No this is perfect. You’ll blend in.”

With my blonde hair and blue eyes, I doubt that.

We drive Emil‘s powder blue 1975 Mercedes sedan – which I have lovingly dubbed “The Blue Ghost” – for an hour down the “desert road” between Cairo and Alexander, before rendezvousing with “the key” (as Emil described him) Emil’s cousin. Many things in Egypt work this way: access to a place, a site, or a person, are dependent on some form of personal relationship: an uncle, a brother, a friend from school or the army, who becomes the facilitator, the opener of the ways.

We pull to the side of the highway behind a sand-colored Peugeot and I realize I am included in a very special family outing. Emil’s wife, Fatin, and son, Mena, as well as assorted cousins, uncles and aunts are all headed to the Church at Dier An Ba Beshoy to partake in a big communion service. “The Key” is well known to the monks and brothers of the church both for his sizeable contributions and for all the craft work (wood carving, glass work, general repair) that he provides to the church.

As we drive into Wadi Natroun I am immediately struck by how much the valley reminds me of Israel. The soil is sandy, but the landscape is green and verdant: lush with olive, orange and date trees and fields of onions, beans and lettuce.

Dotted throughout the wide shallow valley are the distinctive spires and domes of Coptic churches and monasteries – all topped with the “dimensional” crosses with four arms bisecting a central post, so that an arm projects into space in each of the four directions.

We drive past the Sunday worshipers streaming into the area (on foot, in cars, on horse or donkey carts) and head toward an ornate and formidable iron and marble gate at the back of the rather sizeable compound.

The guard raises his hand in the universal gesture for the “back the fuck on out of here” but the instant he sees “the key” his demeanor pivots completely. After a brief conversation, hugs, and traditional kisses on the cheek, he smiles broadly and the gate rumbles open.

“You see!” Emil chortles. “He is the key! They love this man here! No one gets to come here. And never, never touristes!” (Emil has a charming way of pronouncing the word – adding an extra syllable on the end). He tells me that his elderly aunt is such a frequent visitor that she is called “the mother of the monks.” I am obviously rolling with the right posse.

We walk the back alleys of the monastery – past the monks’ tiny cells, many, many centuries old. Here a man can find complete isolation from the world. The doors are only a few feet high and there is a small “pass-through” window where meals can be handed off.

“There is a monk here who has never left the grounds for 50 years and who only comes out of his cell once a month on communion days.”

“How old is this place?”

“From the third century, maybe the second.” Emil replies.

“I want to try and take communion.”

Emil stops, looks at me like I’ve suddenly grown a second head.

“No. You can’t.”

“Why not?”

I’ve had this conversation before, in many parts of the world, but I always keep trying. I guess I’m just weird this way. I’m always being turned away from communions, but I keep asking.

Emil explains: “You had to have fasted the past 12 hours. And you must be baptized.”

“No problem. I haven’t eaten since last night and I have been baptized.”

“Okay.” Says Emil “We will see.” This is polite code for “no fucking way.”

We turn an ancient corner and run smack-dab into the local bishop, heading into the cathedral to prepare for the communion service. I can tell from everyone’s reaction that he’s a big and important fellow. Falling into single file, one by one they each take his proffered hand and kiss it.

Whoa. I’m the last and the line is moving faster than my synapses are firing this morning.

What do I do? Do I kiss it? Do I shake it? The occidental and the oriental battle in my soul.

It’s my turn. Fuck.

My protestant genes rise up in revolt, but my need to fit-in wins the day and I go for the kiss, not the shake. Ah! There’s a ring! I get it. Kiss the ring!

But just before my lips reach either his hairy knuckles, or the ornate wad of gold lodged there, he quickly pulls his hand away. Shit! He’s suddenly realized that I’m not Coptic – that I don’t belong. That, like the bread and the wine, his hand is off-limits because as a baby my fontanel was bathed in a different brand of baptismal water.

I laugh. I can’t help it. This is my nervous travelers’ tick. It escapes when I’m uncomfortable. I laugh the way a dog rolls over and shows its’ belly. To say “I’m okay. I mean no harm.”

I can feel the mouths gaping all around. There’s the sound of in-drawn breath. The shock is minor, but palpable.

Motioning at me, Emil speaks to the Bishop in Arabic. A complex, musical, conversation ensues. Arabic can be the most beautiful language. As he speaks the Bishop eyes me, sidelong, as I grin stupidly back.

I learn later that this is “His Grace Bishop Serapamon.” Wow. The current bishop and abbot of the Coptic Monastery of Saint Pishoy is named after not one, but two, pagan gods: Serapis & Amon. I must be in Egypt.

The Arabic has become a little guttural, clipped, angry-sounding. I’ve encountered this before and have learned not to misinterpret. Just because they sound angry doesn’t mean that they actually are.

Bishop Serapamon flings me some more stink-eye, before shaking his head in a stern and definitve “No.”

He says a fond goodbye to everyone else, punctuates the pronouncement with one final glare my way, and stalks off to the church.

Emil slaps me on the shoulder. “Mitnaki! You can’t laugh at the Bishop.”

Shit. I’m really off balance now. Flustered.

“What did he say? Can I take communion?”

“No. He says absolutely not. It is the law.”

I love the way Emil says “law.” Again with an extra syllable, but this time in the middle: “laow.”

Emil’s wife Fatin says something to Emil. His son, Mena, joins in. Emil shrugs back at them.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Fatin thinks you should be allowed to have the communion. She says what’s important is what’s in your heart.”

“I agree” says Mena.

If I had a tail it would be wagging. The alpha might not have been impressed, but the rest of the pack seems to like me.

“So… ?” I ask, a ray of hope gleaming forth from my eager little self.

“So?” Emil responds “So nothing. He’s the Bishop. He outranks even my wife.”

—————————————————————————————–

To be continued…

We’ve all been riveted by the recent events unfolding in Egypt.

For those who know Egypt, it’s no surprise that the country is at the epicenter of a wave of transformation rolling through the Middle East. Egypt has a tremendous history of accomplishment: 4,000 years ago ancient Egypt reached the pinnacle of human accomplishment in art, medicine, architecture, engineering and, most importantly to the Egyptians themselves, religion: spirituality was at the absolute heart of Egypt’s awe-inspiring accomplishments.

This talk offers a fascinating glimpse into the profound spiritual genius of the ancient Egyptians: using stunning photographs, maps, music, sound and story to transport you back thousands of years to the Ancient world. Greg Roach, the founder of Spirit Quest Tours, will share his experiences and discoveries from a decade of travel to this beguiling and mysterious land. If you’ve ever been drawn to Egypt, please join us as we take you on a virtual journey to the roots of western civilization and beyond.

Topics include: Egypt’s controversial pre-history, Egyptian Mythology (Isis & Osiris, Horus & Set), The sacred science of sound, Ancient mystery schools, Akhenaten, The mysterious crypts at Dendarah, Reiki in ancient Egypt, Initiatory rituals, Sacred geometry, Islam, Christianity & Judaism, Life in modern Egypt, and more.

Sites discussed will include: Philae, Aswan, Karnak, Luxor, Kom-Ombo, Edfu, Tel-el Amarna, Abydos, Saqqara and Giza.

Space is limited, so please RSVP at:

http://www.savvytraveleredmonds.com/Imports/Seminars.asp#380

or
1-877-225-1994

The West has long been fascinated by the great cultures and spiritual traditions of the East.

Names like India, Bali, China, Bhutan strike a hammer blow to the bell of our souls. We think of mystics, spice and far-flung temples.

It’s ironic: China and India have been (and are, perhaps, becoming again) two of the greatest empires the world has ever known. Bhutan and Bali, in contrast, are tiny nations that would barely qualify as provinces to their mighty neighbors. Yet the culture and spirituality of all four easily stands shoulder-to-shoulder; the tiny satellites, Bali and Bhutan, achieving in spiritual depth what they lack in geographical breadth.

Join Greg Roach, founder of Spirit Quest Tours as he brings these gems of the Orient vividly to life.

Topics include: Historical Overviews, Buddhism and Hinduism, Arts and Artistry, Connections: The Spice Road and the Silk Road, Technology (modern and ancient), Empires and Vassal States, Modern Life and Considerations for the Traveler.

Sites discussed will include: Ubud, Besakih, Mt. Agung, Tirta Empul, Varanasi, the Kama Sutra temples of Khajuraho, Agra, Delhi, The Ganges, Beijing, The Forbidden City, The Temple of Heaven, Caves of Faith in Dunhuang, Suzhou, The Great Wall, Thimphu, Paro, The Valley of the Guardian Spirit, The Tiger’s Nest Monastery.

Space is limited, so please RSVP at:
1-877-225-1994
Or online:

http://www.savvytraveleredmonds.com/Imports/Seminars.asp#381

The Theosophical Society In Seattle

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By now millions of people have been introduced to the island of Bali through Liz Gilbert’s best-selling memoir “Eat, Pray, Love.” The upcoming movie with Julia Roberts and Javier Bardem will only increase people’s awareness of the island. But does the place itself live up to the fairy-tale quality shown in the book and film?

According to Greg Roach of Spirit Quest Tours, the reality of Bali actually exceeds the picture painted in the media. Using gorgeous photographs, video, humorous anecdotes and amazing facts, Greg’s signature presentation style will bring Bali vividly to life.

He’ll share the insider’s secrets he’s gleaned from years of travel to “The Island of 10,000 Temples.” Would you like to meet Ketut Liyer, the “Balian” from Liz Gilbert’s book? Greg’s spent hours with him and will talk about what one of his “readings” is really like.

Ketut Liyer

What about the powerful mysticism of the Balinese religion? Greg will help you understand the difference between Siwa and shakti. From tooth-filing to rubber time, cremation ceremonies, magical daggers, coconut wine, flowing volcanoes, sacred snakes, weasel coffee, roast suckling pig and chewing betel nut, this fascinating presentation will reveal the magical island of Bali in a unique and compelling way.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Mystic Journeys Bookstore

Greg Roach, MFA, F.R.C.
A very popular speaker, Greg is a traveler, writer, filmmaker, inventor, entrepreneur, guide and spiritual pilgrim. His latest writing is featured in “Modern Alchemists from the Land of the Pharaohs” along with Nicki Scully, John Anthony West and Normandi Ellis.

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Mystic Journeys Bookstore

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Mystic Journeys Bookstore

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The Modern Day Alchemist

I’m in very good company in the pages of the new book “Modern Day Alchemist.” My fellow contributers include Nicki Scully, John Anthony West, Christian Bernard and Normandi Ellis, among others.

A few of my chapters have been previously published here in Spirit Quest World, so I thought I’d share them with you:

A Remarkable Encounter in Heathrow

Hipless in Seattle

The book was edited/curated by my dear friend Mohamed Nazmy.

Cairo’s infamous “City of the Dead” is a centuries old cemetery that has become home to as many as a million Egyptians during the last decades. The buildings in the cemetery are like full-blown houses and the cemetery has long had mosques, school and markets. “The historic belief in Egypt is that the cemeteries are an active part of the community and not exclusively for the dead. Egyptians have not so much thought of cemeteries as a place of the dead, but rather a place where life begins.”

We recently visited The City of the Dead along with our friend and guide, Emil Shaker. In typical fashion, he gets into a “forbidden” area the tomb of the Imam of the Mosque.

This room serves several purposes: it’s the tomb of the Imam, a burial place for the newly dead, a cooling room for freshly baked date pies, a place to read the Koran, and, as Emil snickers toward the end of the clip: the place where the blind undertaker “hunts his wife!”

The man who lets us into the crypt is the blind sheikh and undertaker in the City of the Dead – there was a very famous Egyptian film made about him called “Kit Kat.”

Spirit Quest Tours

Click here to view the embedded video.

Theosophical Society of Seattle
717 Broadway Ave. East
Seattle, WA 98103
206-323-4281

After more than a decade traveling to the world’s most sacred places, Greg has realized that, far from being a diversion, travel has the potential to be a profoundly powerful spiritual catalyst and accelerant. Using beautiful photographs and touching, funny anecdotes, Greg will share with us some of the “Lessons from Spirit” that he’s been blessed to receive while on the road.

Greg Roach, MFA, F.R.C.
A very popular speaker, Greg is a traveler, writer, filmmaker, inventor, entrepreneur, guide and spiritual pilgrim. His latest writing is featured in “Modern Alchemists from the Land of the Pharaohs” along with Nicki Scully, John Anthony West and Normandi Ellis.

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A&I Photography Hollywood

933 N Highland Ave.

Los Angeles, CA 90038

(323) 856-5280

A&I Photography Website

Few things are as alluring, or seem as glamorous, as travel photography. From lush tropical jungles to windswept deserts and glorious ruins, travel photography promises adventure and immersion in exotic lands for both the photographer and their audience. But how do you get started? What are the rules of the road? How do you approach a stranger on the street and bring out the genuine spark of their personality?

Spirit Quest Tours renowned travel photographer Joshua Liberman & digital media and travel expert Greg Roach invite you for a festive and informative evening to introduce the world of travel photography, as well their exciting new collaboration: Luxury Photo Expeditions. From inspiring images to hilarious anecdotes and insider tips this event is guaranteed to whet your appetite for far-flung places, people and cultures. And Greg will teach you a few good curses in Arabic.

RSVP to events@aandi.com or see below for maps and location.

The mission of Spirit Quest is to further peace, prosperity, cultural exchange and the evolution of consciousness, through travel, travel products, expertise and guidance. Their recent addition of Luxury Photo Expeditions now offers amazing opportunities to those of us who experience the most when we are looking down the lens of a camera. These photo expeditions combine unique and exclusive travel access, master’s level workshops and inclusion in a deluxe image book from the trip. Luxury Photo Expedition destinations will include Egypt, Bali, China, Cambodia, Bhutan and Cuba.

Kicking off in December with a Luxury Photo Expedition to Egypt, the trip will culminate in a private dawn visit to the Temple of Karnak on the Winter Solstice, where the structure’s solar alignments make it seem as if the temple is giving birth to the rising sun. At A&I on October 14, Greg and Josh will discuss many of the unique features of the trip; which include an exclusive 5-star Nile Cruise, photo workshops, and special (often private) opportunities to photograph in temples, bazaars, villages, and areas of cultural significance across the country. Participants’ best work from the trip will be featured in a deluxe, commemorative Spirit Quest book that will be created by A&I, as well as being featured in a dedicate group show held at A&I Gallery.

A&I is thrilled that Spirit Quest Tours has selected them to be the exclusive supplier for all of Spirit Quest’s deluxe, commemorative photo books and gallery prints. Says Greg Roach, “I was blown away by the quality of the books that Baret and A&I produce, so immediately chose them to provide us with the personalized memento gift books that we give to all of our travelers.”

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Click here to view the embedded video.

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Please join Greg Roach, founder of Spirit Quest Tours, for an entertaining and compelling tour with beautiful pictures and fascinating details.

Here’s an interesting video about it: Zahi Hawass takes viewers deep into the mysterious tunnel that leads from the burial chamber of King Seti I. No explorer has ever reached the end of this steep passageway, and no one knows why it exists. Join Hawass as he discusses his team’s work to excavate and restore the tunnel, and their hope of solving the mystery of what may lie at its end.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Here’s the translation:

O, Birther of the Cosmos, focus your light within us — make it useful
Create your reign of unity now
Your one desire then acts with ours,
As in all light,
So in all forms,
Grant us what we need each day in bread and insight:
Loose the cords of mistakes binding us,
As we release the strands we hold of other’s guilt.
Don’t let surface things delude us,
But free us from what holds us back.
From you is born all ruling will,
The power and the life to do,
The song that beautifies all,
From age to age it renews.
I affirm this with my whole being.

Are you wondering how to avoid digestive upset while traveling abroad? Bali Belly, Delhi Belly, the Turkey Trots, the Cairo Curse, the Bangkok Bloat, the Dakar Dash, or the Hong Kong Crud do not have to accompany you on your exploration of a developing nation.

You’re a savvy enough traveler to know to not drink the local water, inclusive of using bottled water to brush your teeth and avoiding opening your mouth while in the shower. You already have packaged foods to carry in your day bag to fill in for meals in case you don’t trust that the local produce was washed with purified water or that the animal foods were thoroughly cooked. The question is- what if you feel a rumble coming on and you suspect that something got down the hatch in spite of your precautions?

Nearly all digestive disturbances while traveling are bacterial or parasitic. Most western remedies just mask the problem rather than cure it. (For example: diarrhea is the body’s response to getting rid of a pathogen, so plugging yourself up with the medications you’ll find in drug stores to halt the purging only results in the pathogen having more time inside of your body to colonize, rob you of the nutrients you eat, and burrow into your tissues. Your goal is to eradicate the pathogen, not give it more time to proliferate inside of you.)

I’ve explored 17 developing nations within the last 8 years and in doing so I’ve relied on some trusted herbs which have served me well (while traveling via camel, sleeping in mud huts, and admittedly downing any foods which looked good despite their unknown origins).

My favorite 3 anti-parasitic herbs are wormwood, black walnut (check the label to be sure what you’re buying was harvested while the hulls were green), and cloves. The first 2 annihilate the adult and various developmental stages of at least 100 parasites, and the clove kills the egg version of them (if you don’t rid yourself of the eggs they will grow into the adult stage of these parasites and lay more eggs). I carry liquid tinctures of these 3 and make an herbal cocktail of them each night before bed (take them on an empty stomach for the strongest impact) as part of my daily traveling regime. You can also find these 3 herbs in capsule form and pop them down in between meals. In addition to taking them throughout your trip, take them daily for a full 2 weeks upon return- just to be sure you eliminate any parasitic eggs planted in your alimentary tract.

Two other helpful remedies to take, both on a precautionary basis and after an infraction, are quassia and grapefruit seed extract.

The astringent resin of the quassia tree (indigenous to Jamaica, Panama, and Brazil) inhibits insects and other pests from resting on it yet in humans it is not only safe to be used for purging worms and parasites as well as taming malaria, some brewers use it as a substitute for hops when making beer. You can easily find quassia and grapefruit seed extract in either capsule or liquid form in most natural supplement stores.

While in Bali and India I carried with me, in addition to the aforementioned herbs, an ionic silver liquid. Forgetting to notice if the bottled water I had purchased in India was sealed or not, I realized (after gulping down 1/3rd of the bottle) that it was not sealed (refilling empty water bottles with tap water and selling them to tourists is not uncommon so always check the seal). I was grateful to have a bottle of Silver100 with me and a few drops later I didn’t even experience so much as a hic-cup.

Hydrochloric acid is crucial for full digestion. Most people, despite what the pharmaceutical advertisements blast at us, have too little rather than too much. HCL is what kills the pathogens we eat- they cannot survive beyond our stomachs if we have adequate HCL. What this means is that if you produce (or consume) enough HCL you won’t have to worry about parasites being able to get into your small intestine or lower because they’ll be killed instantly by your stomach juices. The average 40 year old has 15% less HCL than they had at age 25, and at age 65 they have 85% less. Buy HCL in capsule form and take it with meals when in unhygienic locations. Start with 1 or 2 capsules (always with food, never on an empty stomach) and if you don’t feel a burning increase the dosage to up to 6 capsules during a large meal.

If you experience the opposite problem (constipation being common after extended plane flights and having changed time zones) be sure to drink 60+ ounces of bottled water (both while in flight and each day throughout your trip) being careful to space your water consumption apart from meals. (Drinking more than a few ounces of water with meals dilutes your gastric juices which are needed to fully break down your food and kill any food-borne pathogens.) Magnesium (in the citrate, oxide, or malate form) attracts water and therefore pulls water through your body breaking free what may feel like an abdomen of cement. The National Institute of Health 2005 report estimates that 68% of those in the U.S.A. are in deficient in magnesium. There’s no danger of over-dosing since you’ll excrete whatever your body can’t immediately use. The ascorbic acid form of vitamin C (in doses of 2000 mg, taken multiple times throughout each day) is another powerful tool for moving the bowels. Both magnesium and vitamin C are safe to take for extended lengths of time.

For more information on establishing a vibrant body that is so healthful it is resistant to parasites and other pathogens check out “Your Health = Your pH: How To Reverse Illness & Gain Vitality” available for download at http://www.livelifewellinfo.com Happy travels to you!

Amy Mosher, Kirkland, WA, U.S.A.

“Historically, sound has been used as a means of spiritual awakening and to utilize the vibrations to resonate certain deep inner places and states within the seeker in a way that typical language cannot.”

-David Newman

The info page is here.
The MP3 itself is here.

While you’re at it, check out my article on “The Use of Sounds in Ancient Rituals.”

Click here to view the embedded video.

This is truly authentic Egypt – not a place that tourists visit (though we take all of our groups). This is where you can find the most beautiful, intricate, hand-made quilts & embroidery at truly amazing prices.

Easter is not complete without loving the one who made it possible—Judas. Forgiveness becomes possible when we transcend appearances and realize that those people who represent the Judases in our lives and those qualities within ourselves that seem to have betrayed us have been the divine process growing us into Christs. It’s all Love.

-Walter Starcke

I first shared this story a few years back as part of my Spirit of Place podcast. The Easter holiday has brought it to mind, so I thought I’d share it again. Even though they tell the same story, this essay is different than the original audio podcast.

[podcast]http://www.spirit-of-place.com/B2036951301/C59401926/E20061028235920/Media/SOP_HEATHROW.mp3[/podcast]

In the first few years after the 9-11 attacks, I found myself traveling very extensively to Europe and parts of the Middle East. Needless to say, this was a tense and unsettling time for me as an American. Europeans were judgmental and confrontational. And there was an unavoidable wariness in my dealings with Muslims. I was quick to denounce the actions of my government and they were quick to assure me that they drew a distinction between people and their leaders, but it there was still an unease that none of us could manage to avoid.

One day, in early 2006, when the war in Iraq was at perhaps its lowest point, I found myself at Heathrow airport several hours in advance of my flight. My partner was returning to the States while I was traveling on to Germany, so I saw her off, then enjoyed a more leisurely experience through the airport than is typical. I was waiting for the Heathrow Express to take me between the international and domestic European terminals. A few seats down from me sat a dark-skinned, older woman. Her black robes and headscarf told me she was Muslim.

As the train pulled in to the station the conductor announced that, due to a security scan, the train would sit idle for a few minutes after the departing passengers had left and that we should all please wait until the security check was complete before boarding.

As the train doors opened, woman next to me rose and started to board. I stopped her and explained that we needed to wait just a bit. She thanked me and we began to chat.

In short order our conversation turned to the events of 9/11. How could we avoid discussing the elephant in the train station? She was Muslim, I was American. The world was trapped in a conflict that seemed to cleave along the lines that divided she and I: culturally, geographically and spiritually.

Then she told me one of the most remarkable stories I have ever heard.

She lives in Islington, one of the rougher parts of London, to say the least.

On 9/12/2001 she was attacked and beaten by three young, white British men. They nearly beat her to death. They broke her spine in two places and ruptured a kidney. She was airlifted to Germany and underwent three surgeries, and was left permanently disabled.

While in hospital, the police came to her with books of mug shots. She easily identified her attackers: all three lived within a few blocks of her and were all known to the local police. They had extensive, if minor, criminal records. They were all arrested and charged with assault, attempted murder and hate crimes. The day after 9/11, these three boys graduated from petty criminals to true, violent menaces.

At their trial, this woman, from her wheelchair, testified that she had forgiven these boys and asked that the court do the same. She said that sending them to prison would harden them into true criminals but that it was not too late for them to redeem their lives. She asked the court for mercy in her name.

The judge was angry with her for “wasting the court’s time” and upset with the potential for setting such a dangerous precedent, but did as the woman asked and gave the boys suspended sentences.

Now all three of the men have completely turned their lives around. They all have jobs and have become members of their local community. Two are since married and have begun families.

But best of all, every day at least one of them stops by to check on her. They bring her food, she spends time with their families, and they all call her “Mum.”

Hearing this remarkable story, I cried openly as we walked together through the halls of Heathrow airport. I had never heard a more powerful testimony on the power of forgiveness or the potential of unconditional love to heal and transform.

Who knows how many lives that woman ultimately touched by her act of forgiveness? 

Paulo Coelho asked about forgiveness in his latest blog post:

For those of you that know Cairo, this footage show a SHOCKINGLY clean city. Since the brits were in charge then the narration has more than just a whiff of colonial prejudice to it. For example…

“Across the street the Dragoman are always waiting for victims. We say “victims” and if you’ve ever employed one, you know why. As a rule they are walking mines of misinformation, as each tells you that he is the son of a great sheik. If you do not employ one, they all follow you about and bother you.”

…which makes it an even more fascinating glimpse into the past.

The contrast between these shots of colonial Egypt under the British and modern Egypt today is pretty startling.

And it’s terrific to see images from some of my favorite places like The Alley of the Tentmakers, and the Ar Rafai, Sultan Hassan Mosques.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Here are a few modern shots for contrast:

Christianity was brought to the valley by St. Mark during the first century C.E.

A few weeks ago I went with my dear friend, Emil Shaker, and his family to visit the area. Because Emil’s cousin is well known to the priests we were allowed into the inner part of the monastery and grounds. We spent the entire day there and saw the communion service. It was incredible.

Here’s a great book on Coptic Christianity in Egypt. Otto Meinardus is the pretty much the greatest living expert on the subject and he’s mainstay of the Coptic portion of my library.

And here’s a video from the communion service:

Coptic Liturgy at the Cathedral of Deir Anba Bishoy from Spirit Quest on Vimeo.

The Cathedral of Deir Anba Bishoy in Wadi Natrun.

A Coptic priest performs a portion of the liturgy during preparations for the communion service.

This was part of the “transubstantiation” as the wine and bread are transformed into the body and blood of Christ. The big “bundle” in the center of the altar contains the bread and wine.

The Coptic language is as close as we can come to hearing the sound of the ancient Egyptian language.

Hand held, unedited clip.

Do you really believe in angels?

Yes.

Have you seen one?

No, I never saw an angel, but it is irrelevant whether I saw one or not. I feel their presence around me. Not the classic angel with the wings etc, but you know that you are protected. This has nothing to do with esoteric things, it is your attitude towards life. When you are enthusiastic about what you do, you feel this positive energy. It’s very simple. Everything is possible, from angels to demons to economists and politicians.

Read the full interview HERE.

 
And finally, here’s a great entry from his YouTube video blog:

Click here to view the embedded video.

Speaking at the most recent EG conference, author, philosopher, prankster and journalist A.J. Jacobs talks about the year he spent living biblically — following the rules in the Bible as literally as possible.

About A.J. Jacobs

Immersing himself in alternate lifestyles and long, hilarious experiments (usually with himself the guinea pig), writer A.J. Jacobs tests the limits of behavior, customs, culture and knowledge.

Read his bio here.

About this talk

In our hyperlinked world, we can know anything, anytime. And this mass enlightenment, says Buddhist scholar Bob Thurman, is our first step toward Buddha nature.

About Bob Thurman

The first American to be ordained a Tibetan Monk by the Dalai Lama, Robert A.F. Thurman is a scholar, author and tireless proponent of peace.

Read his full bio here.

People want to be religious, says scholar Karen Armstrong; we should act to help make religion a force for harmony. She asks the TED community to help her build a Charter for Compassion — to help restore the Golden Rule as the central global religious do.

About Karen Armstrong

Karen Armstrong is a provocative, original thinker on the role of religion in the modern world.

Read her bio here.

While I’m there I’m hoping to have a chance to revisit a couple of modern urban sanctuaries that I’m really partial to: the Cathedrals of St.Patrick’s and St. John the Divine on the island of Manhattan.

A couple of years back I was in NY and while I was there I recorded a podcast about these two wonderful spots called “Islands in the Stream.”  I also try and find a different kind of “island in the stream” – searching for some stillness in the midst of a bustling JFK airport.

You can listen to the podcast here:

On iTunes

On Spirit of Place.com

via RSS

You can follow this trip on Dopplr.com HERE.

What is the appropriate behavior for a man or a woman in the midst of this world, where each person is clinging to his piece of debris? What’s the proper salutation between people as they pass each other in this flood?

-Buddha Shakyamuni

Just before this last Christmas I flew from Los Angeles to Seattle to spend the holiday with my family. A sudden snowstorm closed the airport in Seattle and forced our diversion to Spokane, which ironically was itself sitting under 3 and half feet of snow, but where the airport was at least open.

The scene at the airport was a kind of panicked chaos. It was now well past midnight and the tiny airport was overwhelmed with rerouted travelers from up and down the West coast. There were no facilities, no food, not much information, and many unhappy people.

After braving 6º degree weather in a T-shirt and jeans (a frequent traveler’s faux-pas for me) I was at least able to find a hotel. The next four days were spent in a round-robin of harrowing trips to the airport, followed by canceled flights, closed airports and a mad scramble for lodgings. The cold was bitter and the snow was deep. The different shuttle buses crept through the icy conditions; falls and accidents were a common sight.

I was faring batter than many people I encountered: my top tier frequent-flyer card helped with the morass of booking problems and overloaded phone lines, and I at least had the resources to secure a hotel room. Many people had no choice but to sleep at the airport, which was beginning to resemble a refugee camp.

Finally, on Christmas Eve, the weather eased a bit and I had a confirmed ticket on an afternoon flight to Seattle. Even with a late checkout I arrived at the airport hours early. Soon it became clear that another wave of storms was rolling through: flights to Portland and other nearby destinations were being canceled. Damn it. I was angry, sad, and tense. I felt like I had been through such a ridiculous ordeal. I just wanted to get home for Christmas and this was making me deeply despondent.

Sitting a few seats down from me was a young man who, oddly, had an aluminum walker nearby. I couldn’t help but overhear his phone call with his mother.

“They’re canceling more flights. I’m on standby for the flight to Seattle, but they say there are three times as many travelers as seats, so if I don’t get on the flight I should just go back to the hospital. Maybe after Christmas I can get home.”

Wow, this was upsetting. He was a young man in the midst of an obvious medical crisis. I had a confirmed seat on the flight that he was only on stand-by for. Now that I knew this, I felt I had a spiritual obligation to offer him my seat if he didn’t make it on the plane. Damn it.

I struck up a conversation with him. He had just had his second hip replacement surgery at the age of 32. He chose Spokane because he was so happy with the surgeon who had replaced his first hip that returned here for the second operation. A congenital deterioration made these major surgeries unavoidable. He was on four painkillers, six antibiotics and two anti-rejection drugs.

The day after his surgery he was scheduled to fly back to Seattle to stay with his family, recuperate and celebrate the holiday. Just as he arrived at the airport his first flight was canceled because of the weather. Like me he had spent the last four or five days trying to make it home. Like me he had packed and unpacked and traveled to and from the airport. But he had done it with a walker and new piece of titanium implanted in his body. The icy sidewalks and slippery paths that I bitched about and resented were, to him, potentially deadly obstacles. While I might have bruised my ass, his fall could have been catastrophic. He couldn’t afford a hotel close to the airport, so he was staying at the motel 6 at the far edge of town. His insurance only paid for the hospital through the day of his surgery. He couldn’t afford to go back there.

As we killed time waiting for news of our flight (Would it leave? Would he have a seat? Would I?) we talked about many things: travel, food, cities, politics.

We shared many common interests. We spent 30 minutes comparing notes on San Francisco, Prague and Seattle. Soon we were both grinning and laughing. The time flew. Suddenly an airline employee approached him and handed him a boarding pass. “I made sure we got you a seat.” He smiled from ear to ear and I shook his hand. He called his mother just as they announced that the flight to Seattle was boarding.

He turned to me. “I’m so glad we talked. I feel so much better about things.”

We were on a small turbo-prop plane – the only available aircraft not grounded in other cities – so fewer than a hundred of us made it out of Spokane that day. It was the only flight to leave. I folded his walker and helped him board the plane, just as the evening sun appeared for the first time in days.

That night in Seattle, sitting with family around a glowing Christmas tree, I remembered that man and I gave a silent prayer of thanks: for my family, for the blessings of my life, and for my health.

Not the best video quality, but it does give you a good sense of the place and what it’s like to be there.

I’ve embedded both HD and standard definition versions.

Besakih Temple, Bali, Indonesia from Spirit Quest on Vimeo.

HD: Besakih Temple, Bali, Indonesia from Spirit Quest on Vimeo.

Enjoy!

Bali is often called the land of 10,000 temples, and while no one actually  has quite an exact count, that’s as good a number as any to work with – considering that every house, village and even many businesses contain temples.

But in addition to these thousands of smaller temples and shrines, there are the nine “biggies” – each an element of the Balinese Mandala Pilgrimage, Six of these temples are called “The Temples of the World” and are especially revered.The central temple of the mandala, both geographically and spiritually, is Pura Besakih “The Mother” temple – the most important temple in all of Bali. This is a HUGE complex – with at least 23 separate temples found inside the precincts. It’s found on the slopes of Gunung Agung – the most sacred and important mountain in Bali.

Besakih is primarily dedicated to Siwa (Shiva), but smaller temples on the site are dedicated to other gods.

Balinese Hindus believe in one supreme being known as “Sanghyang Widi Wasa.” This ultimate godhead is beyond our comprehension, but it manifests as the three main Balinese gods: Bhrama, Wisnu and Siwa, or “the creator,” “the preserver” and “the destroyer.” So Siwa, or Shiva, is “the destroyer.”

It’s always hard for me as a westerner to get my head around the idea that “the destroyer” is beloved and the focus of worship and dedicated temples. Seems like that should be Wisnu (Vishnu), “the preserver.” Isn’t that what you want in a divine being? But in truth most Balinese are “Siwans” meaning their primary focus of worship is Siwa.

Here’s a comfortable, accessible idea about Siwa: Siwa is often depicted with an opened third eye with which he burned away Desire (Kāma). Thus Siwa’s destructive power allows new perception, and the destruction of the chains of maya. Well, I find this comfortable and accessible, I don’t know about you.

It’s possible to walk the mandala pilgrimage “in miniature” around the Besakih complex, but even this “mini-pilgrimage” is no small feat. Besakih is very large and parts of it are kind of steep (being built on the side of a mountain the way that it is).

The “Mandala” temples in the Besakih complex are:

Pura Gelap (Temple of Lightning) representing Iswara in the east.

Pura Kiduling Kreteg (Temple south of the bridge), Brahma, south.

PuraUlun Kulkul (Temple of Origin of the Slit-Gong) Mahadewa, west.

Pura Batu Madeg (Temple of the Standing Stone) Wisnu, north.

Pura Panataran Agung, the central portion, where the whole population
worship, is dedicated to Siwa and multi-colored.

There are three courtyards in most Balinese temples. The inner Courtyard is only open to worshippers who are properly dressed and who bring offerings. The Pedandas conduct the ceremonies here, and no other activity is allowed.The Middle Courtyard is restricted to worshippers, but other ceremonies and activities are allowed here. The Outer Courtyard can be used for a variety of activities, and may (or may not) be open to “non-worshippers.”The entire site is truly beautiful and full of life and energy. It’s as big as a major Egyptian temple like Karnak, but it’s a place of active worship, so the vibration and feeling is truly remarkable.

Of all the smaller temples found at Besakih, there are two that I’m partial to.Near the center of the complex is the ”Pande” temple. The Pande are a special caste of smiths who have a temple at Besakih dedicated to the fire god Agni/Brahma.

And the northern most temple Pura Batu Madeg (Temple of the Standing Stone), representing Wisnu, offering both a wonderful, peaceful mediation spot, a gorgeous evocative temple, and truly remarkable views of both the slopes of sacred mountain Agung and the entire temple complex which spreads out below you.

Here’s a brief video clip of the temple.

And here’s our Flickr slideshow:

Anyway, the visuals are nicely intriguing and evocative.

Sword of God – Reel from aurora fearnley on Vimeo.

Check out the expedition website HERE:

A Coptic priest performs a portion of the liturgy during preparations for the communion service.

This was part of the “transubstantiation” as the wine and bread are transformed into the body and blood of Christ. The big “bundle” in the center of the altar contains the bread and wine.

The Coptic language is as close as we can come to hearing the sound of the ancient Egyptian language.

Hand held, unedited clip. Follow this link to go Vimeo.com and watch it at a larger size.

Coptic Liturgy at the Cathedral of Deir Anba Bishoy from Spirit Quest on Vimeo.

Sacred Sites Throughout the World

Monday march 9th 7:30 – 9:00 PM

Distant Lands Bookstore

56 S. Raymond Ave.

Pasadena, CA 91105

(800) 310-3220

Distant Lands Website

      

What impulse in the human spirit has, for millennia, caused us to paint cave walls, pile stones, carve, build, engineer, plan, craft and construct monuments to the invisible and unknown?

Why are some places set apart and worthy of our greatest efforts and accomplishment? What makes one site sacred and another a garbage heap? Every culture on the planet has a tradition of sacred spaces and spiritual places and when we encounter them we resonate in harmony with the energies we find there.

This intriguing lecture will include sites in Bali, England, France, Eastern Europe, Hawaii, America, Egypt, the Sinai and the Holy Land. Topics will include geomancy and earth energies, sacred architecture and geometry, solar and stellar alignments, psychology, spirituality, religion, the alchemy of travel, quantum mechanics and some fascinating new discoveries about the science and psychology of Sacred Places.

Please join Greg Roach, founder of Spirit Quest Tours, for an entertaining and compelling tour with beautiful pictures and fascinating details.

Greg has taught and lectured all over the world at numerous prestigious institutions, including Cambridge University (England), San Francisco State, USC, and the University of Sofia. He speaks regularly on spirituality, comparative religion, sacred sites and the potential of digital technology as an artistic and storytelling tool.

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]]> http://spiritquestworld.net/sacred-sites-throughout-the-world-presentation-distant-lands-in-pasadena-ca-march-9-2009/feed/ 0 http://spiritquestworld.net/the-age-of-aquarius-begins/ http://spiritquestworld.net/the-age-of-aquarius-begins/#comments Thu, 12 Feb 2009 21:43:28 +0000 travelin_G http://spiritquestworld.net/?p=643 Continue reading The Age of Aquarius Begins

]]> Remember that trippy new-age song from the show “Hair” about the dawning of the age of Aquarius? Well, turns out it didn’t just rhyme. We are moving into the beginning of that Zodiacal age, and this Saturday the Moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter aligns with Mars. Ring a bell?  

For those of you who are a little foggy on the whole thing, it’s all based an ancient understanding of something called “The Precession of the Equinoxes.” The Earth is like a wobbly top which causes the placement of the constellations, relative to a fixed position on the ground, to change very slowly over time.

For the past 2000 years or so we’ve been in Piscean age. It’s no accident that we entered this age at about the time of Christ (remember that Christian fish symbol?).

We are now entering, or on the cusp of entering, the age of Aquarius. Just as the rising sun signals a shift in the activity, consciousness and patterns of the natural world (or the onset of a new season, take your pick), so too these astrological ages carry with them a shift in consciousness and a fundamental change in the energetic frequency of the entire world.

The coolest thing for me is the fact that I’ll be in Egypt, leading our “Spirit of Moses” tour when this celestial alignment occurs on the February 14th. As a matter of fact, it will be the first day of our trip!

Here are some further explanations sent me  by friends and colleagues:
 

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In mid February a rare astrological concentration brings together a number of planets together with the North Node – denoting higher purpose – in Aquarius that energizes and inspires the possibility for transcendental breakthrough in some perhaps seemingly intransigent situations.     

We measure our global sense of both space (latitude and longitude) and time (universal time – UT or GMT) from the prime meridian located at Greenwich, England.

So we can perceive the collective influence of this momentous astrological event by looking at the alignment from this globally ‘centered’ perspective.

At dawn on 14th February the day dedicated to St Valentine, the patron saint of Love, the Moon in Libra enters the seventh house of relationships. And Jupiter and Mars are aligned in Aquarius in the twelfth house of spiritual transformation.

Forty years ago, the intuitive words of a song called Aquarius, brought the dawning of the new age into our collective awareness: When the Moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter aligns with Mars. Then peace will guide the planets and love will steer the stars

At dawn on 14th February the Cosmos actually embodies this perfect alignment to support our collective manifestation of love and peace and dawning of the Age of Aquarius.

The Aquarian chart of 14th February reveals an incredible concentration of cosmic influences blending with the energies of Aquarius in the twelfth house. Expansive Jupiter and energetic Mars are aligned with the higher purpose of the North Node.

The presence of Chiron the wounded healer offers us the opportunity to heal the schisms that have separated us for so long.

Neptune emphasizes collective humanitarian movements and the co-creation of social justice. And the presence of the radiant Sun enlightens the entire alignment. Mercury also in the twelfth house but just beyond the cusp in Capricorn, allies with transformational Pluto to communicate and anchor the Shift throughout our global structures and institutions.

The Moon in Libra in the seventh house emphasizes harmonious real -ationships. Venus in Aries in the first house energizes and empowers dynamic co-creativity.

And whilst Saturn the great task master in opposition to Uranus the unexpected awakener is suggesting an ongoing confrontation as the dregs of the unsustainable old paradigm reluctantly give way to the untested hope of the new, their placements in Virgo and Pisces brings practical altruism and visionary inspiration to the transition.

At 7.25am on 14th February – and for the 18 minutes of the alignment, I invite you, in the universal heart, to add your own intention for love and peace and to co-create the dawning of the Age of Aquarius to that of the Cosmos. In whatever way feels appropriate for you, you may choose to align with7.25am (UT) or 7.25am local time energizing a wave of intention that will surge around the Earth.

 

 

 

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http://www.johncleesepodcast.co.uk/cleeseblog/

And here’s the inimitable Mr. Cleese making fun of standard issue tour guides.

It might not be dead parrots, but it’s funny stuff:

John Cleese on Tour Guides

(http://pcnworld.net/jc/john_cleese_podcast_31.mp4)

This nawa sanga, or sacred mandala, is a symbol made from symbols that, taken as a whole, represents the great all encompassing divinity known to the Balinese as “Sanghyang Widi Wasa” (Bhraman in traditional Hinduism). By traversing the path of this sacred manadala we traverse the entirety of experience and manifestation: stitching together an array of forces into a single divine whole – both within us and without. Mandala can also be taken to mean “palace of purity” so our pilgrimage involves cleansing the spiritual obstacles and impurities from our own “divine circle.”

In Bali the primary directions are not “North” or “South” but rather are relative to the mountains, the sea and the rising and setting sun. So “Kaja” (mountain ward) is the most sacred and important direction – and one that changes (in absolute terms) as one’s position on the island changes.

Kaja = Mountain Ward
Kelod = Sea Ward
Kangin = Toward the rising sun
Kauh = Toward the setting sun

These primary directions, and their admixtures (along with the center) give us the nine division of the nawa sanga. These can be reduced to five (the four cardinal points + center), or further reduced to three (the “Trimurti,” the Hindu trinity).

The ultimate Godhead – Sanghyang Widi Wasa – comes into manifestation through, and as, the Trimurti: the divine trinity of Brahma, Wisnu and Siwa – or (G)enerator, (O)perator and (D)estroyer.

AUM, the sacred sound, is created from the Sanskrit letters symbolizing the Trimurti.
A: Brahma, the Creator
U: Wisnu, the Preserver of Life
M: Siwa the Destroyer

Counter intuitively to us in the west, it is Siwa (Shiva), the destroyer of life and recycler of forms that is the primary focus of worship for most Balinese.

With all this in mind, I’ll be writing future posts about specific Balinese temples that make up this Mandala. Of all the temples on Bali six are “supremely holy:” Pura Besakih, Pura Lempuyang Luhur, Pura Goa Lawah, Pura Batukaru, Pura Pusering Jagat, and Pura Uluwatu. These 6 are called the “temples of the world.”

Cairo, Alexandria, Aswan, Philae, Kom Ombo, Luxor, Karnak, Dendarah, Abydos, Edfu, Sakkara, Giza, Wadi Feran, Mt. Moses, St. Catherine’s Monastery.

I am so EXCITED about this trip. We’ll doing a spiritual pilgrimage through Egypt and to Sinai, sailing the Nile for a week onboard a PRIVATE LUXURY DAHABEYA called “The Afandina,” Climbing Mt. Moses, walking the back streets of Luxor and Aswan, and doing toning, meditation and initiation ceremonies in the temples as well as a private visit inside the Great Pyramid.

I’ll also be doing a lot of filming while I’m there – my filmmaker friend Kutsy Kasparov will be joining us with his HD camera.

It’s going to be another amazing Spirit Quest pilgrimage!!

There’s only room on the boat for 18 – but we have 2 spaces left if anybody wants to join us at the last minute

Details on the trip are HERE.

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Take a look: http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/news/article2094889.ece

I’ve just returned from leading a group to Egypt and during our visit to the Temple of Seti I in Abydos, I left the group of forty with my Egyptian guide, Fahti, and went to grab a little meditation time near the structure called the Osirion – home to the Flower of Life.

The Osirion is quite an enigma. It makes no sense relative to the established canon of Egyptian temple architecture or art. Its unadorned monolithic blocks are completely out of place in ancient Egyptian architecture and the “L” shaped floor-plan of the adjacent (and definitely datable) Temple of Seti flies in the face of thousands of years ancient tradition. It is an enigmatic anomaly that is almost totally ignored by Egyptologists and is best known, by those who do know it, for housing the symbols of sacred geometry. It’s also of little interest to tourists. Most people have never heard of the Flower of Life and even those who do visit the structure don’t often see its strangeness, which seems to almost hide in plain sight. 

I sat on the rickety wooden stairs that lead down amongst the massive ancient granite stones. The Osirion sits well below the surface level of the ground, and the temple guards, who know me pretty well after all these years, had pulled off the board nailed across the top of the stairway (now too decrepeit to be safe and so normally off-limits to tourists) to let me descend and sit amongst the ancient pillars. I drank in the quiet and the deep sense of immense age that the place exudes. I examined the unusual construction techniques – so odd and out of place here. I meditated. I let the sense of the ancient seep in to my bones.

After a few minutes of solitude I felt someone behind me on the stairs. I assumed it was a temple guard and went back to my meditation. Surprisingly, when I turned to leave I saw, not a guard, but a young European man. With a British accent he asked me “Are you here for the Flower of Life?”

I grinned. You can read my spiritual autobiography to learn why I found that question such a delight.

“Yes” I replied and fished out the gold Flower of Life from beneath the collar of my galabya to show him. “Are you?”

He grinned back “Yes” and produced one in silver hanging from a leather cord around his neck.

“Did you get that here in Egypt?”

“No” he says “In Thailand.”

We both grin. Turns out that Nick had a spontaneous vision of the Flower of Life some months earlier while doing yoga. Like me he felt compelled to try and understand what he’d seen. Like me he had been drawn to the Osirion.

“We have a lot to talk about” I tell him.

“Indeed we do” he replies.

As we walk back toward the temple, chatting, comparing notes and sharing our experiences like old friends. One or two minutes either way and we never would have met. If our bus had been a few minutes earlier, or if I’d stopped to take a piss, we would have missed one another completely. I am struck, forcefully, by how completely NON-coincidental this whole thing is, and I see, hiding right there in plain sight, that great genius at work.

The entire temple (indeed, several sites in Thebes) has been built along a solar axis, such that the temple both “gives birth” to, and is re-invigorated by, the rising sun precisely on the day of the winter solstice.

In the modern era this occurs on December 25th (interesting coincidence there, eh?) but several thousand years ago, when the temple was primarily built, this date fell on December 21st. We visited a few days past the solstice – on the Gregorian New Year to be exact – but the effect was still dramatic and moving.

We had all been up quite late the night before, celebrating New Year’s Eve – so the 5:30am wake up call came especially early, but it was more than worth it. We had Karnak completely to ourselves, what was, in itself a great treat. We had taken the group the day before in the afternoon and there were at least 6,000 people there. I am very spoiled since we normally secure private visits for our groups and it made me sad to see the place so filled up with noisy, gawking tourists. I am, I admit, a travel snob.

So in addition to seeing the beautiful temple in its quiet repose and feeling the peaceful, powerful flow of energy from the place (I find the temples lapse into slumber when the tour buses arrive, only offering their true spirit to those who approach with consciousness and awakened intent), we were able to experience a remarkable spectacle combining the natural and the man-made, fused into a moving reminder of our place in the cosmos and the unending renewal of life and the natural world.

The light from the sun progressively awakens the temple from the darkness, and the holy-of-holies becomes the womb of the sun as the new season is born again.

http://www.traveletvemagazine.com/emagazines/spiritquest/

The folks at travel ETV magazine did a BEAUTIFUL job for us!

Sacred Sites Throughout the World

]]> http://spiritquestworld.net/sacred-sites-throughout-the-world-presentation-savvy-traveler-in-edmonds-wa-january-24-2009/feed/ 0 http://spiritquestworld.net/petroglyphs-in-inscription-canyon/ http://spiritquestworld.net/petroglyphs-in-inscription-canyon/#comments Fri, 12 Dec 2008 07:43:25 +0000 travelin_G http://spiritquestworld.net/?p=417

I have visited an awful lot of unique and unusual sites over the years, but rarely have I seen a place that is simultaneously as unassuming, and as evocative, as “Inscription Canyon.” Located deep in the Mojave Desert north of Barstow, California, you have to be willing to do some 4 wheeling in

Continue reading Petroglyphs in Inscription Canyon

I first traveled to Egypt just a few months after the terrible massacre at the temple of Hatshepsut in 1997. As a matter of fact, I was with the first sizable group to travel into the country, six months after that attack. Appropriately enough, it was a spiritual group. Needless to say, security was at an all-time high then. I felt like we were this giant hedgehog rolling through the country, all bristling and armored on the outside (we were constantly surrounded by cops and soldiers) but soft and pink and vulnerable underneath. I felt that we were being brave and doing something important. It was that trip that started me down the path I am on today, and that made me realize that something as simple as being a tourist could, somehow, be important.

I remember our visit to Abydos, one of the cities that will be the most positively effected by the lifting of these restrictions. We were the first tourists to visit the town in six months and the entire population poured into the streets to greet our buses. The insides of shops were covered in a flour coating of dust and sand from the months of disuse. Shopkeepers almost wept as their life’s blood started flowing again. It was powerful. And buying useless junk has never felt so good. I bought stuff for people I hadn’t spoken to in years, just to have an excuse.

In all of my many return visits since, the convoys, and all they entail, have been a defining feature of the Egyptian experience. So it will be odd to return at the end of December to an Egypt I’ve never experienced before.

This is a tremendous object lesson for all of us – travelers, government, citizens. It proves that normalcy can, and will, return in the face of terror, so long as we demand it and continue to travel no matter how much they try and stop us.

Beth Whitman, over at Wanderlust and Lipstick, just wrote a great article about why you should still travel to India. I couldn’t agree more. Many of the places that Spirit Quest travels to have been subjected to terror – Egypt and Bali for instance – and I know some people won’t consider going for those reasons, but the truth is that our homes and highways are much more dangerous places.

So I am happy to hear the great news about Egypt. And I am happy to be reminded that something as simple as being a tourist can be an act of bravery that can help to change, and heal, the world.

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Spirit of Bali from Spirit Quest on Vimeo.

Photos courtesy of our dear friend Karen Barfield. http://www.barfieldphotography.com/

Spirit Quest Tours: The Spirit of Egypt from Spirit Quest on Vimeo.

“In 1849, the Philadelphia daguerreotypists William and Frederick Langenheim introduced the lantern slide: a transparent image on glass that could be projected, in magnified form, onto a surface using a “magic lantern,” or sciopticon. This new technology expanded the uses of photography, allowing photographic images to be viewed by a large audience. With lantern slides, Museum curators and educators could illustrate their lectures, letting audience members see detailed studies of objects and sites from around the world.

The Brooklyn Museum’s lantern slide collection was started by the Museum’s curator of fine arts, William Henry Goodyear, in the late nineteenth century. With the assistance of the photographers Joseph Hawkes and John McKecknie, Goodyear reproduced images of archaeological and architectural sites in Europe as well as images of the Paris Exposition, which Hawkes often hand-colored for more realistic effect. The lantern slide collection also developed through the efforts of the curator of ethnology, Stewart Culin, and his successor Herbert Spinden, who created and purchased images of objects and sites. The Museum’s Library now holds 11,710 glass lantern slides. Read more about the history of the lantern slide collection.“

“In 1849, the Philadelphia daguerreotypists William and Frederick Langenheim introduced the lantern slide: a transparent image on glass that could be projected, in magnified form, onto a surface using a “magic lantern,” or sciopticon. This new technology expanded the uses of photography, allowing photographic images to be viewed by a large audience. With lantern slides, Museum curators and educators could illustrate their lectures, letting audience members see detailed studies of objects and sites from around the world.

The Brooklyn Museum’s lantern slide collection was started by the Museum’s curator of fine arts, William Henry Goodyear, in the late nineteenth century. With the assistance of the photographers Joseph Hawkes and John McKecknie, Goodyear reproduced images of archaeological and architectural sites in Europe as well as images of the Paris Exposition, which Hawkes often hand-colored for more realistic effect. The lantern slide collection also developed through the efforts of the curator of ethnology, Stewart Culin, and his successor Herbert Spinden, who created and purchased images of objects and sites. The Museum’s Library now holds 11,710 glass lantern slides. Read more about the history of the lantern slide collection.“

Call 281-649-3269 for more information

As Americans we tend to think of ourselves as the inheritors of a Graeco-Roman-European cultural and intellectual tradition, but there is an older, and deeper influence, that gave the world a surprising number of things: from bricks to medicine and monotheism, Pharoanic Egypt had a profound impact on the ancient world. Greece, Rome, Israel and the entire Mediterranean were deeply affected by Egyptian culture and accomplishment. This presentation will preview, through dozens of photos and the accompanying lecture by Greg Roach, founder of Spirit Quest Tours, the upcoming HBU-sponsored trip to Egypt, where we will delve deeply into these influences to create an experience that is provocative, enlightening and fun. Some of the wonderful trip highlights include a specially arranged private visit inside the Great Pyramid, private entrance to the Sphinx Enclosure, and a private presentation by Dr. Zahi Hawass Egypt’s famed Inspector General of Antiquities.

Houston Baptist University
7502 Fondren Road
Houston TX 77074

Sunday, 12 October 1:00 – 2:30 PM

Mysteries of the Great Pyramid, Sphinx & Giza Plateau

I was raised as a tepid Episcopalian. We hit church for all the biggies: Xmas, Easter, funerals, etc. But God didn’t intrude much beyond that.

At the age of 10, I started working on my “God and Country” merit badge in the Boy Scouts. This triggered an explosion of interest and involvement in “my” church: Grace Episcopal in Alvin, Texas. I became an altar boy, learned to assist during communion and eventually became the lead altar boy – managing the other boys and assisting the priest during communions, christenings and other special ceremonies.

All this was to the consternation of my parents. It seemed strange, for a teenaged boy to want to go to church. They also hated getting out of bed on a Sunday morning to drive me in to town. If I were a little more typical, they might have slept-in.

For my part, I loved the ritual and the quiet and the solemnity of church. A southern Baptist revival meeting it wasn’t, but it struck a deep and hidden chord within me.

But I didn’t love God. Not that I can really recall. I just took him, and my ideas about him, rather for granted. All this changed, explosively, at the age of 17, my senior year of high school. Within a few months of graduation three things occurred in quick succession that would, ultimately, unseat my inheritance of vague notions about that thing called God.

First, my girlfriend dumped me. Trivial enough, unless you’re a 17-year-old boy who’s never kissed, loved, or made love with, any other woman. Then it becomes a tragedy of Grecian magnitude. One week later, my entire family (except me), was involved in a horrendous, disfiguring automobile accident. This rocked me to my core. Confused, alone, frightened and heartbroken, I tried to keep up with my schoolwork, serve as a proxy adult for my family and nurse my shattered psyche.

The ordeal of the ensuing week culminated when my dog – the only surviving memento from my girlfriend, and my one remaining family member not in the hospital – was run over by a large truck and killed.

In hindsight, when this happened I think I must have had what you’d call a nervous breakdown.

I screamed and cursed at God. I called him some very bad names. Right there on the side of the highway where my dog was killed. And then, in the middle of all this, it suddenly hit me: “Who the fuck am I talking to? THERE’S NO ONE OUT THERE.” Kablooey.

Here endeth phase one.

After a few years of flat-out atheism, my center of gravity began to drift back toward its natural set point. And once I again opened the door to belief. I ran through as fast as I could and just kept on going, devouring every philosophy and system of thought I could get my brain on. I took numerous philosophy classes, chewing through most of Western philosophy, from Aristotle to William James. While my teacher, Mr. Aboulafia, was guiding me through exoteric European philosophy, I was pursuing my own, extracurricular program: immersing myself in the Koran (a gift from a Muslim butcher from Boston named Samir Ismael – but that’s a different story), Carlos Castaneda, Joseph Chilton Pearce, Gurdjieff, Rumi and other transcendental poetry (Blake, Rilke, Whitman). It was about this time I first experienced the effects of entheogens (look it up .

But while I spent years gorging myself on every far-flung philosophy I could find, I was never satisfied. Indeed, the more I consumed, the hungrier I became. Eventually, I sought out increasingly esoteric fare as the only means to provide the real substance (sustenance?) I had been seeking.

This phase culminated when I joined A.M.O.R.C. (Ancient and Mystical Order Rosae Crucis) in early 1997. The Rosicrucian system offered me the first synthesis point in all my learning; tying together disparate threads, bridging the ancient and the modern and encouraging the student to become a “walking question mark.” At last I had found a metaphysical system that laid out the real stuff I had been craving: cosmology, esoteric psychology, spirituality, subtle energies, healing.

After about 9 months of this study, I joined a Rosicrucian trip to Egypt. And this set the stage for my “act two plot point” – while visiting the Osirion in Abydos I had another psyche-shattering experience, this time in the form of a spontaneous, all-encompassing out-of-body vision. After a brief meditation, I stood up into a shaft of light that from an opening in the ceiling. This triggered the most massive change in consciousness I have ever experienced. My sense of the external world fell completely away and I stood in the presence of an ineffable, unexplainable, glory. To my inner eye it took the form of an infinitely recursive living electric fire. I was laughing and crying at the same time. My mind was filled to overflowing with the most remarkable awareness – a glimpse behind the veil and a true experience of the fundamental unity of life.

 
Here’s a visual representation of what I experienced. Some of you will recognize the Flower of Life – that’s what I saw – the Flower of Life as ultimate living mind. The audio is toning recorded in the King’s Chamber of the Great Pyramid.

It was utterly overwhelming. When I could hold no more, I tore myself away (it was that or, it seemed, die). I was dazed, euphoric. Everything around me glowed from within. But deep behind this was a terrifying awareness: “Who the fuck am I? THERE’S NO ONE IN HERE.” Kablooey.

Here endeth phase two.

And the hits just kept on coming. The elation of that afternoon suddenly flowered into a full-blown “memory” of a past life lived in Abydos in a time well before the age of the Pharaohs. Actually, “memory” is far too weak a word for what I experienced. I was channeling information from my higher self with all the clarity and detail of a feature film. I wrote and remembered for days on end, completely filling a journal with this information about a distant highly advanced culture. All this seemed deeply alien to me. Despite my early tottering steps into the esoteric, I was still grounded and sleeping. I didn’t believe crazy things like Atlantis or channeling. I knew literally nothing about sacred geometry. I doubted the idea of reincarnation.

This dazzling, mind-boggling peak of the journey became, upon my return home, a 6G roller coaster drop into the deepest pits of personal despair. I was utterly depressed and unable to function. I understand now that any system, after so massive an influx of energy and information, must normalize and stabilize. I also see now that this began my “dark night of the soul.” But hindsight is bright, and at the time the experience was debilitating and terrifying. What had happened to me? Why? What did I do with it? What did it mean? My experiences left me with an overwhelming sense of obligation – yet I had no guideposts as to how to meet this nebulous feeling of responsibility.

Just before I left for Egypt, the multimedia company which I founded had finished our largest, most ambitious project, “The X-Files Game” which we created for Fox. Upon my return, I had nearly a hundred people looking to me for leadership and direction that I could no longer provide. Instead, I threw myself into my further education – reading, studying, and trying to understand – much to the detriment of the successful company that I had spent the previous decade building.

As Dickens said, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” On the one hand, a vast new world had opened up to me and I was exploring it at a breakneck pace. At the same time my business (and personal life) was spinning increasingly out of control and my emotional state deteriorated right along with it. I was diagnosed as clinically depressed and went on antidepressants. I started psychotherapy. If I did not have support, and medical intervention, I surely would have taken my own life.

I began to travel the globe: Egypt (again), Jerusalem and Israel, Greece, Glastonbury and Wiltshire in Southern England, Bulgaria, all over Europe. I began to undertake self-directed pilgrimages to sacred sites. I studied voraciously: sacred geometry, ancient religions, initiation, Gnosticism, alchemy. I began work with energy, healing, past lives.

My business and personal lives continued to spin further out of control as they became increasingly out of cadence with my interior direction. In short order, external events began to conspire as well: the internet crashed, we shuttered 90% of our business and moved from Seattle to LA to start over, 9/11 hit… Kablooey again.

I began a series of classes at a New Thought center in LA, Agape. This became the second point of grand synthesis in my learning. And it was here that, after nearly eight years, my dark night of the soul came to an end. During a group session I suddenly found myself experiencing another revelatory state of unity consciousness: looking out from eight pairs of eyes at the same time.

After the class I stepped out into the afternoon sunshine to realize that finally the dawn had come. The knowing was now mine through direct experience: I was an immortal soul. There truly was one life. One mind. The Divine is fully present right here and right now. I am a vehicle for its experience and expression.

But wait. There’s more.

About four years ago, I began to channel (with my partner, Halle, as facilitator) a group of discarnate intelligences often called The Great White Brotherhood or, as they call themselves to me, The White Lodge.

They started to give me assignments. I began to guide groups to Egypt on initiatory pilgrimages. For six months prior to the last national election, I ran a series of guided group meditations as an internet blog called “Meditations for America.” I launched a podcast on spiritual travel and sacred sites called “Spirit of Place.” I re-launched “Meditations for America” as an ongoing audio podcast with an expanded agenda to retool American consciousness.

Then in June of 2006, they dictated an incendiary document:
“All of the old religions must be thrown off. These structures and philosophies and systems of thought have become a great hindrance to the further evolution of humanity.”

Holy shit.

This group, The White Lodge, had a revolutionary agenda and they expected me to help. But I couldn’t get my hands fully on it. It was like I was trapped underwater, beneath a sheet of ice. I could understand where I needed to be, but I had no idea how to break through to it. I experienced terrible fear and anxiety around this. I didn’t want to be involved with this; I just wanted to go back to being my ordinary self. But where was this resistance coming from? And how was I to overcome it?

The answer would come as suddenly and dramatically as you’ve probably come to expect. Halle and I were on vacation in Hawaii and visiting an old friend who had guided us through a lot of past life regressions over the years. Rather than do any “formal” work, we simply sat and talked about my situation. In the middle of the conversation I suddenly remembered a previous incarnation as a “prophet” that ended in betrayal and death. Okay. I had found the source of my resistance! Wow that was easy. No remembered pain. No relived trauma.

Ha ha. Nice try, but not so fast, mister.

That night, sitting on my hotel bed, it all came rushing back to me with a visceral power that was truly shocking. Suddenly I was doubled over – living through the memory of being disemboweled. Publicly murdered. I relived it all: pain, mortal anguish, betrayal, the moment of death and the peace and relief that follow the soul’s release from the body.

No wonder I was so resistant. The last time I accepted one of these assignments it seems to have ended rather badly. I came out of that night’s experience with a new awareness: they have a message and I have come here because, like so many others of us, I agreed to help deliver it.

Spirit Quest Tours: The Spirit of Moses from Spirit Quest on Vimeo.

A quick googling of “Spirit Guides” returns well over a million results. Just about every spiritual tradition on the planet embraces the idea of some form of spirit guide: whether they’re called angels, devas or ascended masters. And I have to say that I’ve had my share of experiences with these “non-embodied” helpers. But that’s not what I’m talking about here.

I’m referring to the real-life, flesh-and-blood, currently incarnated kind of “spirit” guides without whom meaningful experience, if not useful access, at sacred sites would be a lot harder to come by. All over the world I have consistently found myself dependent upon, and deeply blessed by, the kindness of strangers who would become friends.

So, to honor these generous souls I’m going to be writing a series of articles on these “spirit guides” who walk among us. From Eder Pitch (“Big Dude”) and Dragon in eastern Europe to “The Surgeon and the Magician” in Egypt, I have been guided by some larger than life, colorful, and colorfully named, folks over the years. But I’m going to start with the newest addition to the pantheon.

A few years back we were scouting a spiritual trip to Bali. This is one of the rougher parts of the job of tour leader: you have to lay eyes, hands, glutes and senses on everything your group will. That means staying at the resorts, eating at the restaurants and riding the bus, water taxi or donkey cart (no, that’s not just hyperbole). That means massages, spa visits and, most importantly, getting to know your local guides.

So here we are, cramming a two week Balinese itinerary into nine days; vetting sacred sites, hotels, craftspeople and assessing the practicality of one itinerary over another. It might sound like fun, but it can get very tiring.

It was our next-to-last day and we had already settled on one guide: Yenta, who was wonderfully mellow, gentle and humble. It had taken him a few days, but once he realized we were serious about learning everything we possibly could about Balinese Hinduism, he completely opened up to us; patiently guiding us through the complex rituals of prayer and offering that are part and parcel of worship in a Balinese temple.

But we were quite uncertain about our second guide. Don’t get me wrong, he was a great guy who spoke excellent English, but he just wasn’t spiritual enough for our group. He wasn’t personally very devout (this by his own admission) and he really only seemed to know enough about the Balinese religion to satisfy the usual slate of cursory questions from typical tourists. But time was running low, and we hadn’t found a more suitable candidate.

We were visiting the last temple on our list: Batukaru, a mossy green fantasy of streams, statues and white-clad Pedandas. As is typical for us we had struck up a conversation with a group of local kids and pretty soon they were mugging for the camera.

Their father joined us. He was a bright, engaging fellow who spoke terrific English. He introduced himself as “Hari” and when we explained that we ran a spiritual tour company and that we were here to learn about Balinese Hinduism he immediately invited us to accompany his family in to the temple.

They were there to celebrate one of the many cremation ceremonies that occur after the death of a family member, so this was going to be an unexpected treat for us.

Over the next twenty minutes or so we were blessed with a beautiful experience. On our way in to the temple Hari told one of the Pedandas that we were joining the family, so the priest included us in the blessing (“American” is pronounced the same even in high-Balinese). We meditated, prayed and made offerings (just as Yenta had taught us), we chatted with the locals, teased with Hari’s kids and listened, fascinated, to the chanting of the priests and ringing of the bells. And best of all, I had a remarkable, enlightening conversation about Spirit with Hari. 

He explained “In the west, you have God. G-O-D. In Balinese Hinduism, we have the same: Generator,Operator and Destroyer. G-O-D or Brahma, Wisnu and Siwa.” A big light bulb went on for me that day. Hari was devout, funny, enthusiastic and very knowledgeable. 

Before I knew it the ceremony was complete and it was time to leave. As we walked out together I thought to ask my new friend what he did for a living. He grinned a little sheepishly and said “I’m a tour guide, actually.” I laughed and laughed. How perfect (and how perfectly Balinese, he knew full well we might have offered him work, but “making a sale” was the last thing on his mind.)

“Give me a name card!” I said “We must have you with us for our upcoming group.” And we did. Hari and Yenta were a perfect team, and the perfect guides for a Spirit Quest group. That afternoon in Batukaru Temple, I not only found a great tour guide, I found an important spiritual teacher and made a friend for life.

]]> http://spiritquestworld.net/spirit-guides-bali-egypt-and-europe-part-1/feed/ 3 http://spiritquestworld.net/mysteries-of-the-great-pyramid-workshop-at-the-theosophical-society-in-seattle/ http://spiritquestworld.net/mysteries-of-the-great-pyramid-workshop-at-the-theosophical-society-in-seattle/#comments Thu, 28 Aug 2008 20:18:56 +0000 travelin_G http://spiritquestworld.net/?p=109 Continue reading Mysteries of Giza – Presentation: Theosophical Society, Seattle- September 21st, 2008

The Theosophical Society In Seattle

717 Broadway East

Seattle, WA 98102

Telephone: (206) 323-4281

September 21, 2008 4:00pm – 5:30pm

Suggested Donation: $5-$10

Theosophical Society’s Online Calendar

Mysteries of the Great Pyramid, Sphinx & Giza Plateau

This detailed presentation will offer an in-depth examination of the many facts, mysteries and anomalies surrounding the Great Pyramid and other structures on Egypt’s Giza plateau.

From the startling acoustic properties of the King’s Chamber to the controversies surrounding the age of the Sphinx, this remarkable site is a welter of mysteries that have fascinated and confounded humanity for millennia. Greg Roach will share an overview of some of what he’s learned through more than 10 years of travel to this amazing area.

Topics Include: Ancient Sources, Physical Facts, Modern/Contemporary History & Discoveries, Astronomical Alignments and Archeo-astronomy, Geometrical and Geomantic Encoding, Acoustic Properties and Psycho-acoustic Effects, Invisible Energies Psychic Experiences, Dating Inaccuracies and Anomalies, Mysteries and Unexplained Phenomenon, Hidden Compartment and the Hall of Records, Competing Theories, and What’s It All Mean?

Parking is a problem.  Please arrive in plenty of time to find a spot and walk a few blocks to the Lodge.

View Larger Map

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East West Bookstore
6500 Roosevelt Way NE
Seattle, WA 98115
Tel: 206-523-3726
1-800-587-6002
info@eastwestbookshop.com

September 23, 2008 7:00pm – 8:30pm

SACRED EGPYT: Mystery Schools and Spiritual Science
This FREE 90 minute workshop will offer a fascinating glimpse into the profound spiritual genius of the ancient Egyptians: using stunning photographs, maps, music, sound and story to transport you back thousands of years to the pinnacle of the Ancient world. Greg Roach, the founder of Spirit Quest Tours, will share with you his experiences and discoveries from a decade of travel to this beguiling and mysterious land. If you’ve ever been drawn to Egypt, please join us as we take you on a virtual journey to the roots of our civilization and beyond.

Topics include: the sacred science of sound, Egyptian Cosmology, Isis & Osiris, Egypt’s controversial pre-history, precession of the equinoxes, the ancient mystery schools, the neter and their correspondence to the chakras, Akhenaten, Sekhmet, the crypts at Dendarah, Horus and Set, Reiki in ancient Egypt, initiation, ascension and resurrection, Sacred Geometry and more.

Sites discussed will include: Philae, Aswan, Karnak, Luxor, Kom-Ombo, Edfu, Tel-el Amarna, Abydos, Saqqara and Giza.

View Larger Map

But first, maybe a little background is in order?

In upper Egypt there’s a temple dedicated to Hathor at Dendarah. It’s a remarkable site. While the current temple is Ptolemaic (i.e. very late in Egyptian history) it’s built on, and contains, elements from much, much earlier times.

There is a paving stone in a section of temple’s floor which has been pulled up to reveal the tops of columns buried underneath the existing temple.

This temple contains several interesting things: the world’s first Zodiac (a bas-relief ceiling carving, the original of which is now in France), graffiti from the French troops garrisoned there during Napoleon’s occupation, and a number of hidden crypts – the most interesting of which contain some pretty startling images.

First off these crypts are normally off-limits to the general population of tourists, and they have a real Indiana Jones quality to them – being located 10 feet in the air, or hidden under the floor. You mind runs straight away to hidden mechanisms and sliding stones. We make a point of visiting them whenever we can.

Next, they boast some very unique and cryptic art work. Take a look at these:

This is famously known in many circles as a “light bulb” and indeed, most people who look see these carvings are immediately reminded of some kind of electrical apparatus. The thing that looks like an electrical insulator is the “djed” and was “the backbone of Osiris” a symbol of stability to the ancient Egyptians. This of course brings to mind anything from the electrical nature of the human nervous system, to the idea that kundalini energy is often represented as a snake.

My friend feels that “lizard being” represents the Egyptian frog goddess Heqet – but I don’t buy that for a number of reasons. For one thing, the carving clearly shows a male (or, at least, non-female) being.

Click HERE to listen to an episode of our Spirit of Place podcast that talks about Dendarah at: www.Spirit-of-Place.com

Peace

travelin_G

Hinton Building, Dillon II

Iegor Reznikoff of the University of Paris recently discovered that paintings in the famous prehistoric French caves (at Niaux and Le Portel in Ariege, Arcy-sur-Cure in Burgandy, and others) were located at the spots where the caves naturally exhibited the greatest levels of acoustic resonance. He presented his finds at Acoustics08 in Paris.

The full story can be read Here.

Next, we jump several thousand years, and several thousands miles, to the Aztec empire in central America where recent discoveries have shed light on that cultures use of sound to produce altered states of consciousness, heal disease, frighten enemies and ease the soul’s transition in to the afterlife. 

The research of Roberto Velazquez, Arnd Adje Both, and other researchers in this fascinating area, are detailed in the article found Here. In particular the article focuses on the sounds created by the so-called "Aztec Death Whistles."

All this aligns beautifully with the things we’ve seen and experienced in our travels: from Egypt to Thracian temples or Byzantine Cathedrals, sounds was a powerful spiritual tool throughout the ancient world.

Click Here to listen to some toning inside the King’s Chamber of the Great Pyramid (from our free podcast Spirit of Place).

And finally here’s a pretty cool YouTube video about the "Rosslyn Music Ciphers" – a series of 13 symbols/notations carved into the stonework of the infamous Rosslyn Chapel. Stuart Mitchel decoded these symbols into musical tones. Watch what happens when he performs a "cymatics" test on the resulting sounds: the cymatics patterns match the original stone symbols!

As you would expect, there’s a never ending stream of discoveries coming out of Egypt. Here are a few of the latest (click on the headline to follow the link):

A beautiful, 12-foot tall quartzite statue of Queen Tiye has been found intact at the mortuary temple of Amenhotep III (next to the "Colossi of Memnon").

The largest pharaonic era fort ever discovered has been found in the northern Sinai at Tell-Huba. The site has a moat, brick walls 42 feet thick, and 24 watch towers,

An ancient mud-brick city, revealing details of everyday life, has been uncovered near Edfu. Normally it is temples and tombs that come to light – perhaps skewing our picture of the past – so this huge find is even more important as a result.

Click HERE for a map

http://www.metaphysicalmatrix.com/

Jul 20, 2008
3:30 – 5:00 PM

SACRED EGPYT: Mystery Schools and Spiritual Science
This FREE 90 minute workshop will offer a fascinating glimpse into the profound spiritual genius of the ancient Egyptians: using stunning photographs, maps, music, sound and story to transport you back thousands of years to the pinnacle of the Ancient world. Greg Roach, the founder of Spirit Quest Tours, will share with you his experiences and discoveries from a decade of travel to this beguiling and mysterious land. If you’ve ever been drawn to Egypt, please join us as we take you on a virtual journey to the roots of our civilization and beyond.

Topics include: the sacred science of sound, Egyptian Cosmology, Isis & Osiris, Egypt’s controversial pre-history, precession of the equinoxes, the ancient mystery schools, the neter and their correspondence to the chakras, Akhenaten, Sekhmet, the crypts at Dendarah, Horus and Set, Reiki in ancient Egypt, initiation, ascension and resurrection, Sacred Geometry and more.

Sites discussed will include: Philae, Aswan, Karnak, Luxor, Kom-Ombo, Edfu, Tel-el Amarna, Abydos, Saqqara and Giza.

Balinese Hindus believe in one supreme being known as ‘Ida Sanghyang Widi Wasa’, ‘Sang Hyang Cintya’, or ‘Sang Hyang Tunggal’. This ultimate godhead is, in truth, beyond human ability to comprehend, and is manifest through the three primary Balinese gods: Bhrama, Wisnu and Siwa (note the difference from the traditional Hindu names of “Vishnu” and “Shiva”). These three aspects of the divine are referred to, respectively, as “the creator,” “the preserver” and “the destroyer.”

Our friend and guide Hadde explained it to us this way: ” In the West you believe in “God” – G.O.D. For us it is the same. We believe in Brahma, Siwa and Wisnu – Generator, Operator and Destroyer. G.O.D. there is no difference!”

This just goes to show you that, despite the seemingly exotic quality of Balinese religion – there is really a single truth that unites us all.

Practically everywhere you look in Bali you will see offerings made to the Divine: flowers, rice, leaves, food, candy, and even a little money. The tiniest offering is a delicate little cone made from banana leaves and flowers (it looks just like a sushi hand-roll), while the largest and most elaborate will be as tall as a man.

But whatever the size, or the ingredients, it needs to be offered sincerely, as a heartfelt expression of thanks to the Divine. The essence – or Sari – of the offering is carried to the Gods by way of smoke, most commonly from incense, but possibly from burning coconut husks or sandalwood chips.

When you pray in a Balinese temple, along with your prayer you offer flowers – one of which you tuck behind your ear. You can always tell who’s just been to the temple, because of the little bits of flowers behind their ears. And when you get a glimpse of yourself in the mirror with a flower in your ear and rice grains on your forehead it’s a terrific reminder to stay connected to spirit all throughout the day.

Our favorite part of these offerings is that, once the Gods have tasted the Sari, the gift is complete, so the people can have the physical “left overs” – in a big offering basket this will probably include delicious little bananas, fruit, candy, cake, cookies and hard-boiled eggs. It’s like a divine picnic that you can share right on the temple grounds.

The Balinese are a profoundly artistic people. From their unique styles of dance and music, to crafts like batik, sculpture, painting and jewelry-making Bali is a paradise for both the shopper and the connoisseur.

The predominance of these crafts in Bali can be traced to the 16th century, when Islam was spreading throughout Sumatra and Java, and the great Hindu Majapahit Empire came to Bali, creating a large influx of aristocracy, priests, artists and artisans to the island. This brought Bali a great level of prosperity and ushered in Bali’s golden age of cultural achievement.

This royal artistic legacy has continued unbroken down through the centuries, and resulting in a living cultural heritage that’s not really found anywhere else on the planet. The arts are everywhere in Bali, with entire villages specializing in certain styles of painting, woodwork or Batik.

Not long ago my daughter and I were walking through a local mall when we ran across a large kiosk with tons of items from Bali – all very beautiful and hand-made. My daughter was entranced and started to look for gifts. She picked up a colorful carved cat and said “wow! That’s a good price.” I checked it and, sadly, had to to tell her “for that same price I can get you 10 exactly like that in Bali.” She said “Okay – but I only need TWO, so pick me up some other cool stuff while you’re at it.” The good news is that, compared to prices state-side, I’ll be able to do exactly that.

As a matter of fact, the biggest challenge when shopping in Bali is finding enough free space in your luggage to bring back all the treasures and unique gifts you’ve acquired while you’re there!

One of the most elaborate and important is the “matatah” or tooth filing ceremony. The optimal age range for tooth filing is generally considered to be between 6 and 18 years old – but even the elderly will have it done.

What’s this all about?

To the Balinese the sharp “canine” incisor teeth represent the coarse, animal aspect of human nature. Their word for these teeth – caling – literally translates as “fangs.” By filing these sharp, animal teeth down flat the negative passions, which the Balinese call the “six enemies,” will be blunted and cooled, leading to a more balanced nature for both the individual and society.

This important ceremony is presided over by a sangging (the same word also refers to “painter” and “artist”) and, because of its expense, will often be performed on dozens of young people at the same time.

We asked our guides about their tooth filing, and whether or not it hurt. Yenta grabbed his jaw as if remembering the pain and exclaimed “oh yes, hurt very much!” but Darta said “No, no. It’s just symbolic.”

One way or another, it’s so important to the Balinese that it’s not unheard of for a family to have the teeth of a recently departed loved-one filed before burial.

Birth order is extremely important to the Balinese and it’s reflected in a person’s name. The first born is called Wayan (why-en), with “I” (ee) and “NI” (knee) added at the beginning depending on gender. So a first-born male would be called I-Wayan (ee-why-en) while his wife might be called Ni-Wayan (knee-why-en).

The birth-order names are:

1st born: Wayan, Gede or Putu.
2nd born: Made, Nengah or Kadek.
3rd born: Nyoman or Komang.
4th born: Ketut.

Then the whole cycle starts over with “Balik” (which means “again”) added to the name. So the fifth-born child is called Wayan Balik (or “Wayan again”).

This naming system is used until a person’s first child is born – then their teknonym (child+name) starts to be used. From that point on they are called “Mem (Mother of X)” or “Pan (Father of X)”. This teknonym is used until the first grandchild is born, at which point they will be called “Grandmother of Y” or “Grandfather of Y”.

So – are you a Wayan, a Made, a Nyoman, a Ketut, a Pan or a Mem?

And you thought the Balnese three calendar system was complex. These names don’t even take into account the FOUR other ways that a person can be called!

The Balinese use three different calendars at the same time:

•The Gregorian calendar (to stay current with us in the West).

•A lunar calendar that is the basis for religious festivals and temple celebrations.

•A special 210 day Balinese calendar that has a complex numerological significance to it. The first week of this calendar is 1 day long, the second week is 2 days long, the third week is 3 days long, etc. up to the tenth week – and all 10 weeks run simultaneously!. The Balinese consult specialists in the calendar systems in order to figure out the best days on which to undertake anything special (like a trip, a wedding, or even a funeral).

And you thought it was hard to figure out when Easter is!

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