The air of mystery slowly dissolves as the fire burns down to embers. Fatigue sets in, rapidly. The pale half-moon peaks through the pine trees on this cloudless, star-filled night. Schuyler becomes aware that LaurAx is studying the sky. It is animated with a twinkling brilliance. “Whoa, was that a shooting star?” he asks.
“You might call it that, just one of many friends this evening. The sky is always alive like this, but we rarely take notice. We don’t stop to pay attention. Now, it’s getting late, you boys best get some sleep. I’ll tend to the fire.”
Not needing any further enticement, they trudge to their tent, seeking the warmth of their sleeping bags. Once they get situated, Schuyler speaks. “T - you’ve been really quiet this evening, are you ok?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replies. “Just trying to tune in I guess. Mom suggested that I spend the majority of our time here – listening, trying to absorb things. I’m a talker by nature, so it really takes effort.”
“Right on. I probably need to work on my listening as well. There’s a lot to miss out there. Your mom really does pays attention.”
“Well, beyond being a trained nurse, she’s what the old timers call a ‘medicine woman’. She loves blending the old ways with modern ones. It’s hard to slip things past her - unfortunately.”
“Wow, I’m glad my mom doesn’t have that kind of surveillance on me. I’d be in trouble all the time.”
“In a weird way, I’m glad we have that kind of relationship,” Tate says. “Yes, it’s very open. She’s trying to allow me to become independent, but wants me to seek input along the way. A lot of kids our age are locked in some sort of power struggle with their parents. It’s a lot of grief and wasted energy.”
“Boy, I’ll say,” Schuyler replies. “I wonder how you escape from that.”
Tate doesn’t respond. Schuyler looks over at him and notices that he’s fallen asleep. He pulls the sleeping bag over his shoulders and begins to play back the recent days’ sequences in his mind. Soon he is asleep as well.
After nearly six hours of deep sleep, Schuyler finds himself awake. He begins tossing and turning in his sleeping bag, flipping his pillow over to the cool side. He glances at his watch. 4:44 a.m. He takes a deep breath and tries to let go of this dream he’s just experienced. It is a new one, but yet familiar. Like he’s been there before. Eventually he releases the images, and drifts back to sleep. The dream comes back:
Hovering high above a rock canyon wall, he zeros in on a baby eagle hatching in a sturdy nest of sun bleached tree branches. Though the baby has been loved by its parents, they are now pushing it out to fly and survive on its own. Teetering on the edge, the eaglet stretches its wings, then clumsily takes a leap of faith, jumping out of the nest with wings instinctively outstretched. Panic hits, as it begins to carry speed in a vertical drop, then an odd pressure hits the bottom side of the wings, and it begins to glide parallel to the canyon wall. Soon gaining more confidence, it starts to turn with the wind. The young bird begins to notice that wings are just the thing for floating through the sky. What luck. Soon, the ground comes up, and it maneuvers dangerously close to crashing on the river bank below. Fear begins to take over. The eagle closes its eyes. Just before the crash, it surrenders the fear. Instinctively, it flaps those wings creating an upward lift. Calm. Then joy! The ability to fly.
Possessed with newfound power, the eaglet seeks a destination. There’s a rocky ledge, just beyond the canyon wall, across a sandy plain. Green trees sprout amid the barren soil. Upon closer examination, they are actually giant Saguaro Cacti.
Suddenly, a bright white light catches the corner of the eaglet’s eye. Captivated, it flies toward the light, where it receives warm waves of love. A scroll is presented, which it deftly snatches with its left talon; the eagle nods slightly, then takes off again. Nearby, it spots something in the mouth of a cave. It swoops and secures the item in its right talon. Heading for still higher ground, it proceeds to build a nest, a fortress really to support the item, searching out natural treasures to accomplish the task.
When the fortress is complete, it resembles nine pillars - three by three - encircled at its base. Each of the pillars appears distinct, and yet collectively necessary for the stability of the stronghold. Oddly, Ayana somehow appears at the central column, with something in her hand. She smiles, places it at the base of the pillar, then transfigures into the fox. She looks back, before scampering off to the pillar to the north. Tate now enters, smiling with hands outstretched in connection with his friends. He walks up to the eagle, whispers something to it, while petting its head, then transfigures into a wild horse. A shadowy hooded figure appears. It closes in on the eagle. They scatter. The eagle takes flight, followed by the fox, then the mustang at a high gallop.
Schuyler wakes up in an instant sitting straight up. He scrambles over Tate looking out the screen window of the tent. “Hey, what is going on?” Tate exclaims.
“Did you hear it? Someone just ran past our tent! Over there, in the woods!”
Tate clambers up to his knees to peer out toward the nearby stand of pine trees. “I don’t see anything. It’s barely light yet. Your mind must be playing tricks on you.”
Schuyler shakes his head. He’s starting to sweat. “Weird. I was having this vivid dream, then someone...”
“Maybe you were still dreaming?”
“Yeah, that must be it. It’s just that it seemed so real, like it crossed over as I was waking up.”
“Well, thanks to your dream, we’re now both awake. It’s only 6 o’clock. Let’s get the fire started before mom wakes. I’m freezing.” They both emerge from the tent, and minutes later, they’ve got a roaring fire going.
“You boys sure are up early,” Ms. Askin says coming out of her tent. “You must’ve slept all right last night; I didn’t hear a peep out of either one of you.”
“Slept like a rock mom, until Schuy’s wake up call.”
“Really now?” she replies. “And what was the call?”
“Bad dream, I guess,” Schuyler replies. “It didn’t make much sense.”
“Dreams can be playtime for the subconscious,” she replies. “It loves to take over when the mind shuts down the chatter.”
They proceed to get breakfast ready, and after a hot and hearty breakfast, they pack up all the gear. Ms. Askin pulls her son aside. “Tate, I want you to remain open. I sense there’s a reason for you to be involved in all of this. I’ve envisioned something like this for years. Be true to your inner nature. Trust your instincts. Remember, mustang is a connector that runs from camp to camp.”
He smiles.
“I see it for Ayana as well. You three make an odd, yet effective trio.”
“Oh right, Ayana,” he replies. “Boy, is she ever going to be mad at us when she finds out she’s missed out on some key research for our project.”
“Try to explain to her that which she already knows. In the end, everyone must walk the path alone. Portions of the journey are shared, but all come to ‘know’ on their own timetable. Remember, when the student is ready, the teacher appears.”
Chapter 9: How Divine
You cannot fight against the ego and win, just as you cannot fight against darkness. The light of consciousness is all that is necessary. You are that light. - Eckhart Tolle