I just came back from a visit to Peru. I went with the group of 31 fellow travelers,  and I had two family members with me. I heard some great dreams and life stories.

I felt great happiness, as I danced around the great stones and walls and dipped my hands and head into flowing water, which was said to possess healing and secrets of eternal life. I bathed in the hot springs and cold river water, in Machu Picchu.

We did past life regressions and made secret promises to ourselves about going forward in love and prayer with our loved ones. I made some sense of my Irish temper, even as it flared up, in tiredness and lack of control, when I returned home.  I promised to go forward in lovingness, reaching into everlasting doors.

My dreams were non existent, as I coped with the elevation of between seven and nine thousand feet. I had altitude sickness with some headache and nausea and lack of sleep. Our local guide recommended some hydrating salts, which were very medicinal. Our schedule was early to rise and almost late to bed. I made up for my lack of dreams, by asking those I sat close to for their dreams.  Sometimes my approach was with compassion  or other times injecting  some fear that they be pulled from the fire burning them in their own lives. Dreams tell of such fires.

I heard a story on the return journey about a child who wrote a story for his grandmother, about a dog, when about ten years old. Much later in life he acquired a dog and had a very difficult relationship with it. When his grandmother give him the letter with the dog story, he was dumbstruck, as it was about that specific dog, in all the details. While he did not get the dog’s name right, the name referenced a difficult trait that the dog had. His name in the letter was Grabby. In real life the dog was always “grabbing things” and could not be trained to do otherwise. We marveled at his foretelling of his own future and his relationship with his dog.

I felt the most joy, as we went around the great black stones, running and tipping my hands to as many as I could. I considered the creators’ of these big black walls and their possible desire to build something that would bring them nearer to God. We sat with our backs against the stones, as we were led back through time to get us in touch with past lives, lifting up our metaphysical gates to see past the present times.

I loved seeing the Basilica in Cusco with so much gold, taken from the Incas.

We were not allowed to take pictures, in the Cathedral,  but I remember plainly the great mural high up on the wall, with more than life size figures, for us to look at, relating to the last supper. The painter painted himself into the picture, as Judas, with a bag half hidden under his arm but not hidden from the viewer. Judas’ eyes stared back at the viewers. The artist knew the trick of having Judas look directly, at the viewers, no matter where they sat in the pews. Judas seemed to be asking if we were betrayers too.

The art work was stunning and real. At this Last Supper, instead of fish, a guinea pig, a local delicacy,  was on the table and local bread also.

A month has passed since I went to the Southern Hemisphere, and I cannot tell you how glad I am for the travel to Peru. I think it was the very high places I went to. I think it is all the visitors drawn there now and drawn there in olden times of Inca peoples, who went there on pilgrimage. These high places opens  travelers to something new and flowing. And afterwards I feel more definite in my determination to seek “Thy Face.”

And the christian catholic population (85%), are now facilitating so many tourists to go there on pilgrimage to get a “blessing from the Lord and righteousness from the God of Salvation.” The Christian and Inca are woven together, and after a visit many of us know there is a beautiful influence there in the stones and the ground for those who seek opening into the spirit.

I will leave you with a memory that just came to me. I am walking through a door in one of the sites. Three people came down the rock stairs talking with great animation in their own language. The woman in the center said three very clear words, in her language, which I repeated loudly back to her. She stopped in her tracks and thought I understood her language. We all were united by laughter even as she figured I did not.

May you too find a way to ascend unto the Hill of the Lord and stand in the Holy Place, whether you are at home or abroad, within yourself, in your dreams or in prayer or meditation.

Much Love and All the best from Rose Marie

Some Bibical references to Psalm 24 are in this blog.