The heart of the mountain is pulsing in my ear.
I awake in the dark of night, the mountains’s call is like a silver thread stretching across time and space. Its heartbeat is so loud I wonder if it is my own.
The mountain’s pulsing song conveys a message, its meaning is unmistakable: the Wheel of Ages has turned. The time that has long been foretold is now upon us.
It is a dark-filled night, for the moon is not even a sliver in the sky. And in this darkness that is like the Beginning, I see a consortium of individuals gathering in answer to the mountain’s summons.
One by one, we will come together, eventually forming a conclave of 12. Each of us carries a silken thread that will contribute to the re-weaving of ancient timelines of rose and emerald; dragon, human and fae . . . starry night and earthen waters blend and clash as we the Dragon Dreamers and Keepers respond to the path that lies before us.
And somewhere in the stars and stones, it has been recorded that my soul has agreed to guide them.
Every moment leading up to our vision walk Mount Schiehallion’s summit is an initiatory step in preparation – body, mind, soul are put to the test, for no other reason than to activate the diamond light of remembrance and soul-star agreement.
For aeons of time the mountain has held within its crystalline temple heart the sacred history of the Time of Dragons, a time so ancient that civilizations like Atlantis are modern in comparison.
And now the time has come…
We stand at the base of the mountain. The crick in my neck signals the intensity of the ascent as I turn my head a near-90-degrees to gaze upward where the sun teases the charcoal smoke clouds enshrouding the uppermost peak.
The wind blows sharp, nips our hands and cheeks, as if issuing a warning. But there is no turning back–not now, not anymore.
The sound of our footsteps are drowned in the din of the high winds, but still my inner ear perks up to the sound of molten heartfire and singing emeralds as our company of twelve wind our way up the mountain’s side.
And I would be mistaken if I do not admit that fears and doubts do indeed arise on the journey. The only thing to do is to keep walking.
The trek is so physically taxing that many of us stop repeatedly to catch our breath. Only a handful of us climb the steep ascent so quickly, it is hard to imagine some invisible magnetic force is not at play.
As our feet touch the mountain’s age-old stones, its stories come alive in our blood, our bones, our tears. Our hearts are like candles being lit, eventually one by one, tiny points of light flickering on a mountain side, shining out to all the worlds both seen and unseen, declaring, “We have come. We have answered the call.”
When I open my mouth unexpectedly, the Song of Dragons erupts; a profusion of crystalline dragon fire and earth light awakened by the mountain’s whispers and currents of magick pooling deep within.
My mind has given way to my soul knowing that this sacred song has not been sung from my lips for aeons. The melody is haunting and beautiful, and my heart aches as if its beauty is a honey-spelled sword piercing me in forgotten places. The song nestles in crystal caves, crosses silver bridges to secret castles under the sea, glides under waves of jewel-crusted flowers with diamond dew drops.
Underneath all these living images, its tones and frequencies are proclaiming, “Dragons of earth, air, fire, water awaken now.”
Now a tail swerves and curls around an inner cliff.
Suddenly I am drawn down, down, down the serpentine pathway and inside the mountain’s deepest obsidian caverns where ancient treasures are guarded. My inner eye traces crystalline matrices of light imprinted in stones and earth.
My feet touch the coolness of the rough stone and craggy passageway I am bidden to tread.
Here in the heart temple of the mountain, the Weavers still rest, the dreamers too.
Only ONE of the Ancient Lineage of a bygone age has remained here to greet me. For many moons, suns and cycles, She has waited here to transmit and restore the ancient wisdom once hidden.
Then in the darkness of the starlit cave deep within Schiehallion’s center, an eye opens.
The beings take flight, from the deepest heart center of the Mountain’s Sacred Wisdom, they rise.
It has been written now…
Written and recorded in the Book of Time.
Blessed Be. Blessed Be. Blessed Be.