It really felt like somebody was there, but I was definitely alone in the garden next to the new sanctuary construction site.
It was very early in the morning. I had woken at five and as the summer sun was already up, I decided to go for an early stroll. The place was so full of memories, my own and those of hundreds of people.
In my mind’s eye, I could still see the old sanctuary, and even feel the velvety fabric of its seats.
Yes, many presences of people and events were shimmering in the air. I took them into my heart and felt it expand, making my whole being feel one with the area.
I could sense the past, the present, and the future as a wonderful and powerful shimmering presence and felt deep gratitude to be part of its wonderful angelic presence.
Stepping out of the Three Moors Hotel before dawn, she headed outside town where the young apprentice said the Master lived. Her step was resolute; she was finally meeting the unequaled saddlemaker of the Atlas mountains.
Troubled, she had traveled for days on an elusive search and had often questioned its wisdom.
” No more what-ifs,” she thought. ” As in my dreams, my steps have led me to the desert, and now I must trust the way.” She pressed on.
The Master had agreed to see her and entrust her with his masterpiece. A saddle so delicate, so finely crafted, a leather so soft to the touch, adorned with gleaming gems the color of warm sand and night sky. But most of all, the Master’s saddle would fit only the fairest and most valiant horse. A steed that would know the way back to the temple, and the old Master knew where the animal was grazing.
So much depended on the success of her sacred journey. The people did not know, but the old Master understood.
Today, she would receive the saddle and pledge to return it, her duty faithfully met. The golden horse would take her to the buried site. She didn’t know how long it would take, but she knew that while riding, she must sing the words of the forgotten tongue, so unfamiliar to her ears, that she had memorized.
The horse, the saddle, and her chant were the gifts required by the ancient stones to set the people free and heal their self-inflicted wounds.
So, she was ordered; her purpose clearer than ever, her intent sharper than she had ever known. About to meet her fate, with bread and water for a few days, she stopped an instant and asked for a blessing. Then hurried again. The old Master and the Akhal Teke mare were waiting.
The chatty bookseller tallied up the purchases and asks, “excuse my curiosity, but the person on the back of the books looks very much like you.
Are you the author?”
I smiled, enjoying my own fantasy of being a famous author being recognized. “Yes, I replied, I actually already wrote the first one.”
He looked confused. “What do you mean by having written the first one? Your name is on the three of them.”
I looked him straight in the eyes, knowing well that I was going to say would not make sense to him . But it was fun to play along.
“I have not yet written the second nor the third. They are part of a trilogy . I’m actually in the planning stage of the second one.” As I expected he looked confused even starting to be upset.
“Are you making fun of me? Your books are here in front of me . I just tallied them.”
I moved one step backwards as I was not sure how he would react. “I actually come from the past. I found a way to travel into my future. This is my first attempt. I thought it was a fun test to seek out my books in the future.”
