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THIS IS A SEQUEL TO "VISION QUEST"

by Field of Spears

Consider the rainbow. Everyone who has sight has seen several. Yet few are acquainted with it secrets. For example, did you know that each rainbow on Earth has the same colors? Did you know that the colors follow a certain pattern from bottom to top and vice-versa? Are you aware that certain occult mysteries are represented by the colors of the rainbow? Did you know that each planet where conditions are such that a rainbow can exist has a different set of colors and/or order of colors in their rainbow?

The following blurb is channeled information from Juil, Lord Ansur’s familiar spirit:

Juil says, “Rainbows are made by Father Sun’s light and Mother Earth’s moisture and atmospheric conditions. So they are a sign of the sacred combination of the male and female principles. The colors and the order of the colors are due to the types of gasses burning in the Sun and the refraction of water in the Earth’s atmosphere. Therefore, for other suns burning different gases and other planets having different chemicals forming droplets in the atmosphere, the colors and order of the colors in a rainbow will be different from those on Earth. In fact, the colors and their order are the “signature” of the each planet. Most planets where the conditions permit rainbows have intelligent beings on them.”

Each Earth rainbow consists of 7 colors. The colors begin at the bottom of the rainbow with the color violet. The next color up is indigo, then blue, followed by green, yellow, orange, with red at the top. These 7 colors related to the following: Violet represents Saturday (Saturn Day) and the Onyx. Indigo is for Thursday (Thor’s Day), representing Jupiter and the gem Sapphire. Blue is for Monday (Moon Day), representing the Moon and Pearl. Green is for Friday, which represents Venus and Emeralds. Yellow is for Sunday (Sun Day)--the Sun and Diamonds. Orange is for Wednesday, standing for Mercury and Opals. And red is for Tuesday, which stands for Mars and Rubies.

The Magic of Childhood:

All children know that real magic exists. Perhaps they know this fact because, unlike adults, they have more recently been in the heavenly-planes (Summerland)--the origin of all souls. And Summerland is a place where the knowledge of all magic is commonly known. It is a normal part of the act of being born that clouds each baby’s memory so that they forget the magic they once knew. Yet, as children, we all knew that magic could be worked--if we could just remember the words, the gestures, and the powers that might be invoked and evoked. So childhood was full of magic--and it still is.

There were cracks that should not be stepped on because such an action would break your mother’s back!

There were fuzzy-headed dandelions to pick and to hold in front of your mouth. Blowing on these released a cloud of small parachute-like floating seeds into the air. But there were two magic actions to take with these: Before blowing on them, a wish was made and after blowing on them, you had to turn away so you would not see any of them land. For if you saw any of them land, the wish would not come true.

Wishing was big magic in childhood. There was wishing on the first star and the rhyming, magical chant that went with it. There were the wishes made over the birthday cake candles--requiring that you blow them all out with one breath.

And then there were magic words. Every child instinctively knows that if you can figure out what the words are, you can make things happen. Much more than we adults, children know that words CAN hurt. Bad boy, bad girl, stupid, jerk, fatso, and dummy are just some of the words that cause real pain. Additionally, if repeated constantly for a long time, the person that these words were aimed at became what they had been called--but we did not know this until we reached adulthood.

Then there were magic words that all children knew but no one knew what they meant or how they should be used. “Ollie-Ollie-Oxen-Free” was one of the words. We knew it was a word of power but couldn’t figure out how to use it.

Then there was church magic. This guy died after being nailed to a cross but then he came back to life. The pastors and the priests turned grape-juice and bread into flesh and blood! If this wasn’t magic, what was? And if they believe in this magic, how come the adults didn’t believe in other magic?

The biggest magic times of the year were Christmas, followed in importance by Easter. The Christmas pageants told a story of the birth of a holy child, accompanied by angels, kings and wise-men bearing gifts. Some of us wondered, however, if these wise men were so smart, why didn’t they bring gifts of toys for the child! There was a magical star in the sky that guided people to the child. This story was fleshed-out with the legend of a magical old man who lived at the North Pole who had flying reindeer. This guy flew around the world in just one night delivering gifts to all the children. In celebration of the child and the old guy in the red suit, a Christmas tree was brought into the house and decorated. This was a wondrous sight for young eyes. The entire house smelled of pine and/or fir and the living room was transformed into a beautiful place of colored lights and shiny ornaments.

At Easter, a rabbit, instead of a chicken, laid eggs, and they were colored. One night this magical rabbit would leave colored eggs and candy in a basket for each child. Sometimes he even put eggs in your shoes. If this wasn’t high magic, what was?

In some places, not near the big cities, but deep in the forests, still lived the occasional wise women who had a cure and perhaps also, a curse for every problem. And there were old folks with odd, old-world ways that could charm warts off you and find spots to dig where there would be water.

And then there was the terrifying magic: The things that lived under your bed at night. The thing that lived in the closet. The thing that lived in the damp, dark cellar. Things that whispered and gibbered in an alien language near that portion of the road home--the one near that odd overgrown thicket. And what child has not seen the white misty beings that float across the landscape when no adult was near to witness the event?

Some of us lived and played near and in the woods. We saw the round circles where the grass grew greener--the result of a fairy dance under the full moon. We saw the evidence of Mother Nature’s handiwork in the yearly miracle of baby animals. We felt the rightness of the natural world where some ate and some were food but all fit into their world--as our parents did not.

Once upon a time there was a boy with curly, very light blond hair and very blue eyes. His real name is not important but everyone called him Cork--because he had corkscrew curls and because he looked like a character in an old comic strip in the newspaper. This boy knew magic existed. He had seen a monster in the closet. He heard the tinkling of fairy laughter in the woods one-day and thinking it was his playmates nearby, he had followed the sound to its source. As he came upon the small clearing, he had seen the last of the furtive movements that little people made as they dived into the hiding foliage. The clearing was bare of any tree or shrub but had giant mushrooms and toadstools growing all over it. He looked around carefully, and although he felt that many little eyes were watching him, he could not see where the wee-folk were hiding. Not wanting to spoil their fun, he turned and left.

Now Cork knew that Leprechauns existed and he believed the stories about their pots of gold. And each time he saw a rainbow, he looked to see where its end (or ends) met the ground. But the rainbows' ends were always miles away and after many years, he finally despaired of ever seeing the end of a rainbow. After a while, he began to disbelieve the stories and came to believe that rainbows really didn’t have any ends--especially ones that actually touched the ground. This disappointment was the beginning of growing old and becoming one of those adults that no longer believed in magic.

Then one day, several years later, Cork had an encounter that brought back some of his belief in magic. He was walking North on the beach at Seaside, Oregon. On his left was the blue Pacific Ocean. To his right was the town. But right ahead of him was a rainbow--AND ITS END WAS TOUCHING THE BEACH! He looked carefully, not believing his eyes. The end of the rainbow was about a block away! Cork wondered if something could actually exist at the end of that rainbow. He was interested in the pot of gold he thought he might find at there. But he knew that the pot of gold was magical and was worth a lot more than just the gold it contained. So he began to rush toward it. After a little while, when he was becoming winded, he noticed that he was not getting any closer to the rainbow. He sighted on it and noticed it was sitting on a little knoll of sand, just 100 steps ahead. Keeping his eyes locked on the end of the rainbow Cork advanced carefully. It was then that he noticed that as he advanced on the rainbow, it moved away. It always stayed the same distance ahead of him as he moved toward it. He got his breath back then again he sprang into action. Putting every last bit of physical energy into his short legs, he sprinted toward the end of the rainbow, hoping to catch it before it could again so maddeningly move on.

But it was no use. The faster he moved toward it the faster it moved away. He collapsed on the beach, frustrated, tears of longing flowing down his cheeks. And Cork grew more mature that day because he now knew that no one could ever get to the end of any rainbow. So it didn’t really matter if there was a magical pot of gold at the end of the rainbow or not, because it was impossible to get to that place. Or so he thought...

The Vision:

Many years later, there was a man who had once been nicknamed Cork. It had been so long since he had been called by this old childhood name, he had forgotten that he even had one. People called him “mister” now, usually with some respect, because he was a big man.

He was on vacation in South-Eastern Oregon. He stood at the edge of a wide valley, holding a pair of powerful binoculars up to his eyes. He was looking for antelope to photograph . So far, he had not seen any. But this time, he saw something way off to his left. It was so far away that even with his binoculars he couldn’t make out what it was. It looked like an orange and yellow blur, and it seemed to be out of place. Perhaps it was a tree entering its fall-foliage colors--except that it seemed to be moving--but that might be because of the haze of the distance. Looking further to the left, he saw that there was a road closer to that point, maybe it was the same road that his car, which was parked behind him, was already on. He put the binoculars in their bag, then turned and walked the couple of hundred yards that separated him from his car and the road where it was parked.

He got in the car, started the engine and drove away. About a half-of-a-mile farther he was gratified to see the road curve off toward the right--toward the place he wanted to get closer to. As he entered the curve, there was a sudden bright flash and a loud peal of thunder. A minute later, the sky darkened and turned a deep purple. A few seconds later, hail drummed down on his car. He slowed down and a few minutes later the hail turned to rain. Then it began to rain heavily. The water deluged down at such a high rate that his windshield wipers could not keep up with it. He pulled over on the shoulder of the road and stopped, waiting for the rain to let-up. A few minutes later, the weather had changed again--at the very fast rate that was quite normal for flat country. He stepped out into the sudden sunshine, picking his way around the puddles.

He raised the binoculars to his eyes again. Before long, he again found the strange spot of blurry orange and yellow color. He went back to his car and lifted his ruck-sack, then he sat off across the valley toward the blurred area in the distance. In about 15 minutes, his long legs and determined stride had taken him closer to the spot, but he still couldn’t make out it was. He walked on.

The rainbow’s end formed in front of him, bringing back the sudden memory of the little boy he had been, racing toward the rainbow on the beach. He wouldn’t be so foolish this time, he chuckled to himself. He raised the binoculars to his eyes again. “That’s odd,” He thought, “The end of the rainbow came right down on the orange-yellow blur, making it shine. He waked on toward the end of the rainbow and the bright spot.

As he got nearer, he tried his binoculars again but they were fogged-up. He examined them carefully, because they were expensive and were supposed to be sealed. Cursing the cheap manufacturing of the instrument, he swung the ruck-sack around from his shoulders and stuffed the binoculars into it. He tramped on.

The end of the rainbow did not seem to be moving. This made him feel uneasy but he thought that it must because of the distance. In an additional 20 minutes, he could see what the orange-yellow thing was. It was some sort of building. The building seemed to be inside the end of the rainbow! After another 10 minutes of hiking, he could plainly see the building. It was a log cabin, the logs were painted bright yellow and the roof was a bright orange color. He had never before seen roofing of this color.

Much stranger than the cabin, was the action of the end of the rainbow that surrounded it. He knew now that the end of the rainbow was not moving away from him, as it should. And this was very disconcerting. He thought he might be dreaming. He was sweating from the rapid pace of the hike in the sunlit valley. He couldn’t remember ever having dreamed that he was sweating.

He stopped and looked at the scene in front of him. The brightly colored cabin wavered like a mirage inside the colors of the rainbow. There was a sense of something indefinable, something odd about it. He knew if he continued to the cabin something would happen. He was suddenly afraid. The view in front of him did not fit in the world of science or the reality that he knew.

Making a decision, he squared his shoulders and walked toward the cabin. I’ll not let this phenomena scare me away; he said to himself, I am a man! Within a few feet of the cabin door the rainbow disappeared. He felt some relief when this happened. Without thinking, he reached for the doorknob but stopped just before he touched it. “What am I doing?” He wondered, as he pulled his hand back. He reached out to knock on the door but before he could touch it he heard a voice from within the cabin. “Come in,” Invited a male voice. He hesitated again, analyzing the voice. It was deep and trembled, but seemed friendly. “Probably some eccentric hermit,” He thought. Bracing himself, he turned the knob, opened the door and stepped inside.

The inside of the cabin seemed quite ordinary, especially when compared to its outside. The man inside was old, very old, and he looked strangely familiar. He held a feather in his hand and the hiker suddenly had a vision of himself as a young man, walking on the sand dunes of the Oregon seashore. “Sit down,” said the man, his voice interrupting the memory. He pointed to a chair near the fireplace. “You are the first visitor I have had for a long time,” added the man in a pleased tone of voice.

“I....I...saw your place off in the distance and just...,” The hiker stammered. “No need to explain,” Said the cabin owner. “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t supposed to be,” He added. The hiker wondered what he meant by that. But before he had to time to think about it, the man in the cabin suggested, “Perhaps it is time to get to work, there is another storm on the way.” Then he raised the feather in his hand and the cabin was flooded with a blinding white radiance.

When he recovered his sight, the hiker found himself in another place. He looked around, confused and upset. He was standing in a circle of seven giant stones, interspersed with many smaller rocks. And he was gazing up into the dark hole of a total solar eclipse. He looked down the 140, 000 mile dark tunnel to the shadow of the moon surrounded by the flaring outer mass of the sun. He heard a voice, which seemed to come from all around him, “This is the secret of the sacred white light. It is whole and complete, like yourself, but it is made of seven holy rays, as you are made of seven things that make you one.” And as he looked, he was struck with how the sight of the eclipse reminded him of a flaming doorway. Suddenly, his mind was full of memories of other lives, of ancient times, of beings greater than humankind, and all o f it was familiar. The moon moved on and the sun broke out from behind its protective covering. The light flared and the hiker looked away, down at the ground. The standing stones were illuminated by the brilliant white light. The light grew so strong that the background and the earth on which he, the hiker and the stones stood on, turned black in contrast and could not be seen. He felt a heat in his right hand and opened it. In the palm of his hand lay a sparkling quartz crystal. It glittered in seven colors as the bright white light struck it.

Then suddenly, the hiker knew what was expected. He knelt down on the holy ground and began to recite the words. The words were ones he knew--yet he knew not why, or from where they came. And so he began, “I am a Flaming Door!” The stone in front of him glowed a fiery red, the color of molten lava. “I am an Orange Pumpkin in a Field," he said loudly! The next stone on the right flared into a bright orange color, the color of a ripe peach, the rich color of a candle flame.

He continued. “I am a Tear of the Sun,” he intoned and the stone to the right of the orange one burst into yellow light, the color of dandelions but heady with power! “I am an Ancient Emerald Forest!” He turned and watched the next stone explode into an intense green, the color of shining leaves following the life-giving path of the sun across the sky. "I am a Blue Crested Wave under the Moon!” Looking to his left and back, he watched as the next stone erupted into a vivid blue, the color his child’s eyes. “I am the Purple Depths of the Sea!” The next stone in the circle turned a deep bluish-purple, almost black. Then he said, "I am a Stone Hidden under the Earth!” As he watched, the seventh and last stone glowed violet. All seven stones radiated color of a hue and intensity only dreamed of by those with mortal eyes.

Then the same voice, the one that seemed to come from everywhere, commanded, “Reverse the rite!” And the hiker stood up and held the crystal up in a suddenly familiar position that he knew was called the “Gesture of the Invocation of the Light,” and he said, in a voice both commanding and calm,

“I am a Stone Hidden in the Earth!

I am the Purple Depths of the Sea!

I am a Blue Crested Wave under the Moon!

I am an Ancient Emerald Forest!

I am a Tear of the Sun!

I am an Orange Pumpkin in a Field!

I am a Flaming Door!”

As his last word echoed into the surrounding stones, they dimmed and their lights were almost extinguished. The hiker found himself standing in a circle of seven standing stones, which still glowed a little from the power that had been in them.

He looked around. It was night, and the hiker knew he had been there a long time. Above him the distant stars twinkled. Then he felt his soul surge upwards and he was one with the stars!. He was a star! And he was a planet and a moon! Then he was all planets and all moons and all stars. And then with one more grand lifting of his soul he became all people and all animals and all plants and he listened to the humming song of life within him. And then he saw it--the relationships between all of it, the belonging of all to everything else. The knowledge of the connectiveness of everything was his! And his poor mind fumbled with the concept of it all as his very being soared upward in a crescendo of screaming understanding. Then all went black as his mind overloaded.

He woke up lying on the damp ground next to his car. In the distance was the sound of nearby thunder. Wearily, he got to his feet and stiffly stumbled over to the car door. He opened the door with his left hand, then turned around and sat on the seat, leaving his feet outside on the ground. His brain was hazy. Where was he? What had happened? A nearby peal of thunder sounded. He swiveled instinctively and pulled his legs inside the car. A moment later, rain began drumming down on the car’s roof.

The cool gust of wind that accompanied the rain blew into the car. It helped revive him and he shook the fuzziness from his head. Then it all came back to him! “What a strange, powerful dream!” He thought. There was a throbbing in his still closed fist. He opened his right hand. In his palm lay a sparkling quartz crystal. It glittered in seven colors as it reflected the bright white light of a nearby lighting flash.

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