We find ourselves gathered together at a Tree of Life whose leafy hairs bear a crown. The symbolism of the Crown is not lost on the group. Those participating in this ceremony of rebirth are the child survivors of the great Earth catastrophe. They seem to know intuitively the appropriate gestures to make to summon the awakening of the planet’s life force, to know the healing energies that accompany the gestures with loving words of memory and of wisdom. The children know that the rocks are their ancestors. The children have brought with them to this incarnation an infinite memory of time and space from other lives in which they were being prepared, both for this moment and for their special spiritual mission.
Breathing is the way that the rebirth of the planet is summoned. The group hears the coughing coming from the cave and the rocks, which are being detoxified, throwing off the ashes of the years of near-death so that they can respond to the children’s love and memories of the powers they once embodied when they were healthy and breathing freely.
Frequencies of sound accompany the breathing “medicine” as an elderly woman with a hornpipe enters and passes the instrument around to the children so they can speak the words that will evoke memories and remind the sacred rocks of who they were and how powerful they can be again once they have awakened to the touch and the sounds of the children’s signatures and voices. The children take turns with the hornpipe and speak of their private memories and desires, reminding the rocks that through breathing they can be revived. At the same time, the inscription of their names and drawings on skins leave marks upon the rocks, a healing patch of love that will channel beads of etheric frequencies into them and open the passageway to a renewed life.
Naturally, the lungs are most important for the revival of breathing. The children remind us that the rocks are their ancestors and also the lungs for their tree-cave home. The children and the elderly healer—Mother, Ah Ma—speak volumes in silence. They remind us that those who were disempowered in the civilization that suffered through this final disaster at the edge of the world, the elderly and the children, are precisely those who possess the spiritual knowledge and understanding necessary now for resurrection. Accompanied by the prayerful memories of the children, the frequencies of the hornpipe communicate clearly with the nonhuman world, so that the animals of many species and the growth of the new Garden of Life will be drawn out of their safe hiding places and burst into emergence and flight over the land, blessing it with their returned presence. We see this emergence mirrored in our own time, when we were all quarantined and the space was cleansed on Earth so that the animals could return to find sustenance and the love that the previous tenants of the Earth did not shower upon them. In Pnuema, that era has begun to fade into history. Those were the millennia when the humans possessed all the power and did not understand that the Earth was alive, as were all forms of life upon Her.
The spiritual ceremony was the manifestation of inborn memory from ancient times before toxic chemical medicines existed, when all life forms recognized they were interconnected and that they could heal themselves and each other in these caring and beautiful ways. The hornpipe restored to the cave, the rocks reveal that their breathing is now healed, and the parents of the children are summoned.
The parents were in the dark during these proceedings. They wear jewelry that lights up in the darkness. They were not invited to participate in this ceremony. They will surely become aware of the powers inherent in other generations, that the children and the elderly possess the wisdom of resurrection in our time.
All human and nonhuman beings—all life forms—breathe deeply and experience a millennia-long relief after being deprived of the nurturance of Planet Earth. The parents of the new generation, the elderly from previous generations, still use devices to infuse life into the cosmos, but the children from the most ancient pre-patriarchal cultures have carried forth into this incarnation the normal usage of human and natural sensibilities—touch, music, memory, and love—for the most powerful of healings ever … the resurrection of the (almost and nearly-dead) Planet Earth right at the Edge of the World.
Twilight, at the Edge of the World, Earth, 2138
A gigantic tree, with exposed roots crisscrossing, penetrating, and mixing with the cave’s stony skin, becomes the tree-cave’s hybrid torso and head, the tree’s over-sized crown its leafy hair.
Scene I: Caught Breaths
Labored whirrs, sputtering spasmodically like coughs provoked by old phlegm, echo inside the cave.
Scene II: Storied Breaths
On the rocky clearing squats a small gathering of people. An elderly matriarch with an elongated hornpipe curving all the way to the ground faces a semi-circle of children who range from teens to toddlers. The elder starts chanting and clapping, rocking her body rhythmically in gentle circles while she passes her hornpipe counterclockwise to the children.
The oldest child blows the hornpipe once and speaks, “This is my time to talk to the Rocks, our Breathing Rocks, lest they forget who they are.” She tells how her parents took her to see the twin rocks for the first time and how she placed her palms on the rocks to feel their warmth and rhythmic movements.
“I felt happy to meet the Rocks and drew an elk on their skins,” said the second oldest child after ze took the turn to blow the hornpipe twice. “They are our living ancestors and protectors; they are the lungs for our home tree-cave; they are our talismans. They hold our wills and consciousness; they keep us remembering.”
When I had a fever that would not go away, my father took me to see Ah Ma.” The elder nods her head and joins the child in the scene. “Ah Ma took me to the Rocks. She raised me up and put me in the chasm-chamber in between the rocks. It was warm, and I loved being squeezed by the breathing rocks. I stayed there for a long time, listening to the rocks humming, like a lullaby. I felt much better.”
The children continue their story relays. In turn, each blows the hornpipe and carves into it with a flat stone to mark their places. Their blowing and marking increases in number as the hornpipe passes through each younger storyteller. Words with wings soar amongst the chants and orations, marvels and whispers, and little songs here and there. A great assemblage of flora and fauna appears in thin air — from hummingbirds to snakes; giraffes to whales; beetles, bees, bats, and butterflies; from tulips and lavender to rosemary and mushrooms; from lemons, mangoes, to bamboos and banyan trees; from assorted pebbles to a special marble — a wondrous natural universe, seen through these children’s eyes, is tattooed on the surfaces of the Breathing Rocks.
Scene III: Renewed Breaths
The setting sun paints the sky with variegated clouds, which merge with the autumnal alpine landscape and extend their colorful splendor to the far-west horizon. The hornpipe — now renewed with multiple rounds of fresh markings — circles back to Ah Ma, who receives it with a smile and a bow. She begins playing a tender melody with the hornpipe. Teenagers drum on their bodies and the ground with twigs, pinecones, stems, and gravel, while the toddlers who cannot yet practice their stories with words begin to crawl, swing, stomp, clap, and dance to the tune of the hornpipe.
Ah Ma marks her own presence on the hornpipe with the flat stone. She then leads the children to the cave, where the children’s parents wait with lanterns, torches, candles, neon necklaces, and self-illuminating wristbands. The adults clear away the tendrils and vines that partially block the cave’s mouth. They pause in front of the immense Breathing Rocks. The children help their parents cleanse the dusts, debris, and fungi off the rocks, as if they were brushing the tree-cave’s twin molars, exfoliating their breasts, or detoxing its humongous lungs. Refreshed and energized, the rocks are ready to receive the newly adorned hornpipe, which Ah Ma gently places into their chasm-chamber.
None of the people inside the tree-cave hold their breaths — this is, after all, an exercise for flowing breaths — while they wait for the Breathing Rocks to wake up, speak up, or cough up. Perhaps sonorously, or merely audibly, or, to some, imperceptibly, the Rocks inhale and exhale, expanding their girths, broadening their volumes, or flexing their fibrous mineral-muscles. And then they take a very deep breath.
The End: Hopefully Never! Or, One Second before “Never Say Never!”
An impression of Ah Ma with the Breathing Rocks inside the tree-cave, captured by spirit photography. Image by Rita Stern Milch.