The Priestess and the Magus, Book One: The Gift

The Priestess and the Magus

Book One: The Gift

by the same author

BOOKS

Fiction

The Lineage of the Codes of Light

The Brotherhood of the Magi

The Priestess and the Magus, Book Two: We the People

The Priestess and the Magus: Book Three: Main Street USA

(forthcoming)

Non-Fiction

Awakening and Healing the Rainbow Body

Awakening and Healing the Rainbow Body

Companion Guide to Self-Mastery

AUDIO

Deep Trance Shamanic Journeys

Volume One: Pachamama’s Child

Volume Two: Right Relationships

Volume Three: Reclaiming Power

The Priestess and the Magus

Book One: The Gift

Jessie E. Ayani

Heart of the Sun

2012

The Priestess and the Magus, Book One: The Gift © by Jessie E. Ayani. Printed and bound in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means without permission, in writing, from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in review.

First Edition 2012

First Digital Text Platforming 2012

Published by Heart of the Sun at Smashwords 2013

Ayani, Jessie E.

The Priestess and the Magus, Book One: The Gift/ Jessie E. Ayani – 1st Heart of the Sun Edition

ISBN# 978-0-9648763-4-7

Cover Art:

Beloved – by Autumn Skye Morrison

www.autumnskyemorrison.com

Cover Design:

Silverlining Designs, Leanne Zinkand

www.silverlining-designs.com

Published by

Heart of the Sun

www.heartofthesun.com

info@heartofthesun.com

Table of Contents

Part One: New Avalon

Chapter One: Reunion

Chapter Two: The Commons

Chapter Three: The Big Picture

Part Two: Outreach

Chapter Four: Phoenix Rising

Chapter Five: Reaching Out

Chapter Six: Harmony Valley

Part Three: Winds of Change

Chapter Seven: Rivers of Gold

Chapter Eight: The White Rabbit

Chapter Nine: The Dark Queen

Part Four: Whispering Queen

Chapter Ten: The Unraveling

Chapter Eleven: Holly-Go-Lightly

Chapter Twelve: Bloody Mongrels

Part Five: Mission Possible

Chapter Thirteen: Solutions

Chapter Fourteen: Mr. Jefferson

Chapter Fifteen: Gift It Forward

Appendix: The Community

Dedicated to

The Power of Grassroots,

Our Heart’s Instinct to Gift, and

Our Ancestral Longing for Community.

In Gratitude …

Thanks to the many amongst us who write, speak and act in ways that inspire and build community, to those who chop wood and carry water to ground and manifest those inspirations, and the gift of spirit that makes them sustainable. Special thanks to Kathleen Heller, my friend and neighbor in Mount Shasta, for critically reading the manuscript, and to Jenny Ernst in distant Brisbane, Australia for a heroic editing effort in her Master’s program ‘free time’. I honor Autumn Skye for her inspiring art and abiding love for the sacred, and lastly, Leanne Zinkand for exactly the cover layout I envisioned. May spirit bestow bountiful blessings and everyday magic upon you all.

JEA

Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late!

…the White Rabbit

(Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll)

part one: new avalon

chapter one: reunion

As the heated discussion came to a necessary but unresolved end, the camera slowly panned the panel of emotionally charged guests before closing in on the show’s host.

I am sorry, ladies and gentlemen, we are out of time, she said, addressing the panel. And then facing the camera, "That’s our show for this week, folks. I would like to thank California Assemblywoman, Christina McMillan, freelance journalist, Tom Copeland, Karuk tribal elder, Gerald Red Hawk, Siskiyou County farmer, Jason Baldwin, and ecologist, Tracy Williams for sharing their views in this debate on the conservation and protection of our most valued natural resources here in Northern California – natural wild rivers and the salmon that spawn in them. As our systems move closer to inevitable collapse in this country, we will continue to scrutinize the agendas of all sectors of our society in search of the truth – for you.

"I am Leah Erickson, hosting Light On The Crisis each Saturday morning from ten until eleven o’clock pacific time on freedomofspeech.org TV. Previous shows are archived on our website, lightonthecrisis.org, and simultaneous radio transmission can be heard on KQLM. You can find us on Facebook and Twitter, as well. Join us next week when our topic of discussion and debate will be ‘crumbling infrastructure in our social services’. Light On The Crisis is produced by Natalie Baylor and directed by Georgia Parrish. Our technical director is Stuart Wodzinski and his assistant is Leslie Stevens. We welcome your comments and suggestions for topics and guests. Visit our website and click on contact us.

Until next Saturday then. And remember, truth has no equal.

When the ‘On The Air’ light blinked off, the panel members and Leah rose to meet each other in the open studio space where Stu, the cameraman, had been operating. Several guests continued their debate, trying to get in the last word, while others gathered around Leah who was joined by the producer, Natalie Baylor. Some of the guests were curious about the community from which they were broadcasting. Leah and Natalie had been founding members of the self–sustaining Living Eco-village called New Avalon. Natalie quickly arranged a brief village tour for those interested while Leah gracefully excused herself and went off to remove the studio makeup, which, for her, was the only annoying part of her work.

She soon caught up with Natalie in the building lobby, eager to go over the show with her over a cup of tea. It had become a Saturday morning, after–show tradition for these two best friends.

Good debate, Natalie declared, giving Leah a hug as they met up.

It was lively. I felt for Jason Baldwin though as it was a bit stacked against his side of the water rights issue. Let’s make sure we get a little more balance on the panel next week, she suggested.

I agree. There were plenty of angry farmers out there who would have loved a shot at the show, but the trick was finding a reasonable farmer who could stand up to the opposition intelligently. Jason has some experience there and he did well, considering. The social services topic is a whole different ball game. It’s been easy to nail down the two sides of the issues, now I just need to get the tangential and peripheral views represented.

You’re a dream producer, Nat. This whole show was such a long shot and yet, here we are, warriors for the truth and light, for real, Leah grinned.

And word is getting out. There are rumors out there about syndication, Natalie teased.

Oh, get out of here, Leah laughed. We’ve hardly got our feet off the ground this year.

Natalie’s big brown eyes sparkled as she moved to pull her wavy, chestnut hair back into a large clawed clasp. Suddenly, her eyes sprang wide open as she released the clasp and covered her mouth whispering Oh, my God! She’d been looking past Leah at the front doors of the studio.

Nat, are you okay? What on earth? Leah exclaimed, turning around while shielding her friend. Suddenly Natalie was holding up Leah, who wobbled visibly, losing her ground.

As if he were walking out of the mists of Old Avalon, the warrior king came forward, leaning a bit on his cane. A frankly handsome man, in well–worn black jeans and a black T-shirt, he was tall, lean for his years, and his crooked grin was as warm and engaging as ever. He lifted his seasoned, wide-brimmed leather hat from a head of wavy, silvering dark brown hair, dropped his backpack on a nearby chair and gathered Leah up in his arms, where she sobbed and shuddered away her shock.

Aye, you women were bloody hard to find, he offered, after a few minutes. He winked at Natalie. Good to see you, Natalie. I thought you lived on Long Island? What would you be doing out here?

A long story, Chris. But then, I bet you’ve got one or two of your own, she laughed, her eyes dancing once again.

He grinned. I reckon, and time to tell what I can of them. The years have been good to you, sister.

It has been quite a ride, I must admit, she said, with a radiant smile.

What do you suppose we can do right now for my sweet lass? he asked lovingly brushing Leah’s hair back with his free hand. A warm kiss on the forehead coupled with a surge of energy directed from his right hand into her solar plexus brought Leah gradually back to emotional stability.

Thank you, Chris, she whispered, brushing his cheek with a kiss and accepting a tissue or two from Natalie. I’ll pull myself together in a minute here. I’m overwhelmed with emotions, memories, feelings, and questions — hundreds of them pouring in. I feel positively shaky.

He wrapped her up in his arms again, so genuinely relieved to see her. I know, me too, he whispered. It feels like the end of an endless journey. He was rubbing her back, bringing her energy into balance while Natalie watched; fascinated at the way he moved energy. What do you think, Natalie? Where to from here? he asked.

Fresh air, Natalie offered, smiling. And time to get reacquainted. We’ve plenty of time to go over the show later, Leah. Why don’t you two walk home?

Leah nodded. Of course, Nat. Then looking up at Chris, she added, I don’t know where to begin, or what to say, so walking would be good and fresh air a blessing.

Natalie watched them leave the building, feeling a surge of joy for this reunion. Both powerful and dedicated in their own right, when together they were an unbeatable team. Life at New Avalon was about to change, big–time.

Hands held tightly, they walked in silence through an artistically paved courtyard complex where the studio was located and out onto a packed–gravel walking path. After a short walk down a gentle hill, the path circled around a large, green space where an impromptu game of soccer was being played amidst the sheep and alpacas. The village had been built to accommodate a mixed population of old growth conifers, giants of the forest. They stood like sentries in silent protection of sacred space. Aromatics of redwood, cedar and pine filled the air as the wind whistled through them. Chris breathed deeply, feeling safe and at peace, recognizing that he hadn’t felt either for a very long time.

Tell me about this magical place, Leah. How did all of this come together? I can see and feel your signature everywhere.

She smiled. Do you now, Chris? she asked, reflecting a part of her that was somewhat testy.

Feeling the weight in her voice, he gently pulled her around to face him. Look, I don’t know how to begin either. How to apologize for a decade’s disappearance? You knew I was on mission, most of which I am not free to share, even with you. However, I can tell you I began and ended each day with you, deep within my heart. I loved you consciously for every minute of those ten years. That is my truth, Leah.

As I loved you. And yes, this community is very much a manifested dream come true. I want to share every bit of the last ten years with you in just a minute. But first, can I ask you? Do I remember correctly that we’re married, on some level?

I reckon we are, lass, he smiled. I remember a ceremony in the higher worlds followed by the most beautiful night of my life, as well as a good many nights of conjugal bliss on several of your subsequent visits to Oz. Are you telling me there’s someone else? he asked, earnestly. Mind you, I’d be cross, deservedly crestfallen, were that the case, but I’d find a way to cope.

That crooked smile of his is just about to light up his face, she thought. She was flooded with warmth as her heart leapt to meet his and their fire was rekindled. They stood, in passionate embrace, laughing, crying and kissing each other, dispersing and dissolving all of the pent up emotions of their forced separation.

In all honesty, she gasped, backing away to look up at him, I couldn’t put another man through the demoralizing futility of trying to measure up to you. I felt you in my heart, and elsewhere I might add, every day. At the same time, I ached to be with you.

Aye, so I was getting through to you, he laughed.

Indeed. But ten years is ten years. Can you tell me, at least, where you were?

We began the mission in Pakistan, well India really, to organize, but covered most of the Middle East over time. I’ve no passport stamps to prove it though, he smiled.

Mission accomplished? she asked.

Yes.

Lose anyone?

Negative.

And your leg? she queried further.

Oh, that, he grinned, stroking his right thigh. I completed the mission with minor physical scars, got back to Kalamunda to get organized to come over here and took my bike down on loose gravel.

A true Jedi, she laughed. "Maybe we can get to work on that leg now that you have arrived at New Avalon."

I won’t stand in the way of that, he quipped, shaking his leg. "I shouldn’t have been on the bike and realized too late that I hadn’t the strength to control it. Now, I reckon that brings us back to the first question I asked. What is this New Avalon of yours?"

Taking his hand in hers, Leah began her story as they started walking around the circle again.

You left Australia right after 9/11. I do appreciate that you called to let me know that, by the way.

No worries. It was the most I could do, unfortunately.

I know. My trip to Australia was cancelled that autumn, but I continued teaching there for a number of years and kept imagining you would surface again. Then I got busy over here, as I’ll explain. Now I show up occasionally for a retreat and to promote Carolyn who has really grown into the work as a teacher. Do you remember Carolyn Weston from our work in Peru? she asked.

Absolutely, he replied. She’ll hold a good light in Oz.

She does. So everything pretty much changed for me in 2008. I can talk about it now, well down the road, but back then it was mind–blowing. With the drought, we had huge fires early on in California that summer, and the Basin Complex Fire in July destroyed everything on my property in the hills near Carmel. The dogs and I evacuated with a couple of pickup trucks full of family heirlooms, books, personal items and a soul full of memories. She paused for a moment, reflecting. "My heart was heavy, as I knew it would all be taken. I blazed a picture of the old place in my mind for safekeeping and took a few with my camera as well. Part of me knew I was up for change and part of me resisted. We moved in with my son, Nathan, and his family.

The energy of change moved quickly. The insurance claim for the house and outbuildings was honored immediately. As so many lost their homes that year, the wheels were well oiled in the claims departments. I had over $2 million from the insurance claim on the house to snug away in the moment, but needed to reinvest within the tax law time period. I put it into gold. I couldn’t look back after the fire and sold the acreage, not even waiting for the traces of fire to vanish. The land was worth a fortune. I put it into gold as well.

Chris raised an eyebrow. Seems you’ve acquired some economic savvy, darling?

"Indeed, and fast with a lot of help from Will Martin, Sonia’s partner. I’d been studying our economic systems for some time. What I actually did was call in the troops. I put it to Natalie, then to Georgia, and Sonia and their partners, and was already talking to Ellia and Greg down the coast. They were in the process of selling their farm. You met all the women in Peru — my key people in the states. We rented a house late that summer in the Sierras and put our heads together on a daily basis. Natalie put her bookstore on the market right after I called her. She’d had an intuition nagging her about it for some months. The timing was flabbergasting. As soon as we had our plan for New Avalon worked out, America experienced the bursting of our outlandish real estate bubble. We would have been sitting on much less financial worth if we had sold after the bubble burst. That is, if we could have sold at all. And then gold prices started to rise, amazingly." She smiled as his crooked grin turned into a full–fledged smile.

Good on you, lass. You turned loss into abundance, grief into joy. A real magician, you are.

"More luck than magic, I’d say. So what we conjured up on paper was New Avalon, an almost completely sustainable, living community — but where? We waited until the following spring, got together again, and began searching all of Northern California. We wanted an unending source of living water, clean air, a sense of isolation with reasonable accessibility, and building codes with flexibility and imagination — oh, and fault lines we could live with! We found this little treasure of a valley and worked with the county on the building codes. I purchased as much of the valley as I could from folks anxious to get out of the economically depressed area. I gave them more than they asked. Meanwhile gold prices were steadily rising."

Chris had a broad grin on his face as they came to a stop in front of a dwelling. He was visibly moved by all they had accomplished and the magic of the timing. Then what? he asked.

"There were farmhouses here where we could live as we built the community. We decided to convert the farmland directly to biodynamics, the most sustainable agriculture, and found a number of young people interested in farming who’d taken the biodynamic training. They helped us get up and running and went on to have their own farms or other apprenticeships. Katia and Mitch Connell, who run the dairy, stayed with us and spearheaded that end of things, which gets more productive every year. We will be Demeter certified in a few years. We can look at the farm tomorrow but suffice to say we can easily take care of the community’s farming needs.

"Sonia took on the community market gardens, which are also biodynamic. Everyone joins in the gardening. She went down to Sacramento to take the biodynamic farming and gardening intensive and has shared her knowledge with the WWOOFers (Willing Workers On Organic Farms) who join us for the summers. She has also put in a good-sized vineyard and a beautiful orchard and nut trees. While those plantings mature, we have plenty of fruit from the existing farm orchards. Most of them are old trees, but still prolific. We’ve been adding a battery of hoop houses and greenhouses to augment the climate. One of them has a fish farm, though we have plenty of trout in our mountain streams and salmon in the river. The fish farm is a closed loop system that produces a lot of food, and we sell our excess of fish to local restaurants. You probably got a sense of the way we are cradled in the forested mountains when you drove in, eh?"

It was an awesome ride in. How about fires here? he asked.

It could happen. The drought has finally ended, but fires are always possible. Mount Shasta is volcanic and could blow too, and we do have tremors, but we weighed all of that against the line up of positives and made the commitment. We help forestry control–burn once a year to clean up the undergrowth. And hey, the gold prices continued to rise. What can I say? she laughed. Every one of us sold up, quit jobs, and put everything we had into this community.

He turned to face the home where they had stopped walking. Is this your place? he asked.

"It is. I think you’ll like it. We decided to hire a living architect, who is also a structural engineer, to design self–sustaining homes with no environmental impact. Everything is recycled, including sewage. Funny thing is, into the project a month, the architect, Tommy Wiesner, decided to move his family up from Marin to join us and his work became community service. He is brilliant, deeply spiritual, and very cosmic in his thinking and design. He has managed to bring together all the realms of nature with the heavenly energies to nurture us here.

"We had room to grow and offered the opportunity to others who were like–minded and willing to do their personal work along with us. We could probably sustain another community with a commons like this one at the south end of the valley. I would love to see more young families coming together this way.

By the way, ours is a ‘gift’ community. Everyone’s time and talents hold the same value. We all work for the common good and hold shares in our homes in proportion to our investments. Though we sell much of what we produce, we are non-profit. The gift community guards against the accumulation of wealth. We can go into details there later. It is complex.

And it works? he asked, amazed.

So far, it’s been easier and more rewarding than any of us could have guessed. Our hearts and minds have been nurtured in surprising ways. The farmers before us had let the land go for years, just grazing animals naturally. They couldn’t afford to grow crops and buy chemicals so we were lucky not to have to wait for organic status and the land had regained some fertility while resting, she concluded. Let’s go inside, she suggested, leading the way.

She pushed open the front gate, part of a picket fence that circled in front of all of the dwellings to allow the sheep free range in the commons. The enchanting little house, made from rammed earth, rock and timber, looked like it had always been there, perhaps having grown right out of the earth. The roof was sculpted to hug the doors and windows, dropping low to the earth in places to deliver rainwater into channels running to larger community catchments. There were no corners, just rounded, flowing walls. They walked up a stone path, through a cottage garden to a rounded, wooden door into which a gnarly old tree was carved.

It feels and looks like Hobbiton, Chris laughed. Your community is in another realm, Leah.

"Our community, Chris, she corrected gently, squeezing his hand while pulling him inside. I feel that too, and yet it is utilitarian, totally green, with next to no ongoing environmental impact. Nowadays that is called living architecture. I get the giggles every time I come up the walk. It so suits me, but then we all feel that way. There is something about manifesting such a dwelling and community that feels to me a kind of healing for the earth."

Chris placed his cane in a nearby umbrella rack as he closed the door. I knew just being with you again would restore me to the better part of humanity, he said, pulling her into his arms. He wanted to touch every square centimeter of her body, commanding his brain to forget all else. He wanted his spirit to reunite with his soul and body — complete restoration. He let the fragmentation, hypervigilance, and full–on danger drain from his body. He felt Leah taking it, intentionally.

"Are you eating my darkness with your houcha, sweet woman?" he asked.

It’s not as good as the lunch I had in mind, but it is something I can do for you right now. You’re going to sharpen up my mojo, I reckon, she added, kissing him fully on the mouth.

My deepest, and admittedly lowest, desire is to ravish you on the spot, but the rest of me knows that to be the height of folly, he mused. What’s your take?

We’ve waited a decade, though what we experienced in Peru was like a lifetime compressed, which makes it hard to use time as a measure, all things considered. I say we conserve your energy until you really are restored, build you up with biodynamic food, some timely healing sessions and cuddles galore, and let your inner being gauge when the time is right. How does that grab you?

I’ve noticed we’ve both ‘matured’ a great deal, he teased, recalling the intensity of their passion in Peru. Honestly? I like your plan. I thank my lucky stars I’m here instead of anywhere else in the world. I really don’t feel myself — yet.

Of course, you’d be seriously jet-lagged having come all the way from Perth. Do you suppose you also have post-traumatic stress (PTS) symptoms, Chris? she asked, concerned.

Under ordinary circumstances, I would anticipate it, but they weren’t ordinary and the help from the other side was powerfully supportive. So yes, good food, rest, cuddles, the wonders of this magical place and your clarity will likely suffice.

"Sounds like a plan. Well then, while I put together some lunch, why don’t you hobble all over this little hacienda of ours, thoroughly exploring it. I have nothing to hide from you so feel free to snoop as much as you want."

Really. Hasn’t Midas stashed her gold in here? he joked, letting her go.

Oh that! A story in itself but briefly, it sits in the vault at our community credit union, our first non-profit, which is in the courtyard near the studio. I’ve used it to back our own currency and establish our own bank so that we can start enterprises, invest in more land, whatever. The price of gold fluctuates, but it remains quite a solid investment. By the way, Sonia’s partner, Will Martin, is our banker. You’ll love him. He practices Aikido — alone.

Aye, a kindred spirit. I will look forward to meeting him. You’re really good at your work, you know? he said, reaching for his cane.

What do you know about my work? she asked.

On Internet TV, shedding light on the crisis. You’re a formidable debater yourself but a really gifted moderator, especially when things get heated up.

What? You saw the show? When? she demanded.

How do you think I found you? I searched your name on the web and came up with the show. I watched you live on Internet TV like a lot of conscious people must. And, you’re good — right on target with the issues — totally in your power. I admit to a vested interest, but have not let that color my opinion, he winked.

What were we talking about, super–sleuth? she demanded.

Chinook salmon and dismantling George Bush’s dams on the Klamath River, as I recall.

That was today’s show, impossible!

Well, I had seen the previous show back home — a good one about wealth inequality — but, mind you, I was focused more on adoring your person and counting your grey hairs than the topic, he teased. I’d been perplexed to hear that the phone number I had for you had been disconnected when I tried to call from Mumbai. That makes sense now, considering the fire and your move. So yes, I sleuthed you out and watched today’s show whilst getting up here — on my new iPhone, he said, pulling it out of his back pocket. "You said you offered a free app for a video podcast and you were right. And I had your location pegged on the GPS. Did they even have these amazing things when I vanished?" he asked, brandishing it in the air.

I give up, she laughed. I’m just overjoyed that you’re here. As you can see, the grey hairs far outnumber the blonde these days. I am glad you liked the show, and tell me, husband, are you still a vegetarian? she asked, laughing.

Why? What have you got in mind?

"Well it so happens that Gerald Red Hawk brought me a freshly caught wild Chinook salmon this morning. This is our local salmon and the best in the world — near extinct due to those blasted dams, which, thankfully, the present administration is blasting. I thought I might poach a bit of it and lay it across the top of a biodynamic salad from the farm. What do you think?"

"I think Gerald Red Hawk and New Avalon win the day. I would love it."

Off with you then while I fix this up, she said, eyes sparkling.

Chris started off on his house excursion in the living room, paying particular attention to all of the details of the house. He loved Leah’s use of soft colors and textures in contrast to the rammed earth walls and wood plank floors. He was no interior designer but he knew what made him feel comfortable, at home, and nurtured. The walls showed off her collection of folk art from a culturally expansive life and the global nature of her work. The three exterior walls were unpainted rammed earth, and the interior wall dividing the house on center was rendered a deep blue-violet, the same color as the main area rug.

The sofa had an earthy taupe–colored upholstery, which looked and felt like washed silk. It was long, with big, soft cushions and smaller blue-violet pillows. Two beautiful polished wood tables flanked the sofa, each with an antique porcelain lamp, and a round, white vase of blue hydrangeas. One held the book she was currently reading — some heady economic treatise, the other a crystal grid in which she had used the blue diamonds she’d been given in Peru. There was Leah in a nutshell, he thought. The lamps and tables looked to him like family heirlooms. The other two chairs in the seating area had high backs and were upholstered in a large floral pattern featuring the same blue-violet. Sitting on the floor along side one chair, he noted a basket of knitting.

The blue wall and the sofa created a walkway through the room. Along the expanse of the wall there was an off–white, bench–height bookcase with closed glass doors. He perused the many books, likely swept from the bookshelves at the house on the coast as the fires raged in the hills behind. On the top of the case, in a place of prominence, was a photo of the group of waykis who’d finally made it to the Valley of the Blue Moon, amongst them, Natalie, Sonia, Georgia, and Ellia. Nearly half these women were now in New Avalon. Where were the brothers? They were scattered all over the world. There is power in solidarity, he mused. You could feel that in this valley.

Against the outside wall in the front of the room he found a music system in a cabinet with the CD she’d last played on top — nice jazz. On the wall above the cabinet was a beautiful enlargement of what had been her family’s home in the Carmel Hills.

His eyes moved along the organic curve of the walls to the front windows, where deep purple irises bent towards each other in the half-round stained glass tops of the two casement windows. A gentle summer breeze played with unusual lace curtains. He looked more closely — a honeybee and fleur-de-lis motif. Interesting. The main seating area framed a raised adobe–style hearth on the long, windowless exterior wall. The raised bench of the hearth spanned the length of the seating area, providing a suitable altar for an antique White Tara (mostly gold) on one end and a serene bronze Buddha on the other. Each had a full offering plate and candle before it.

He walked along the wall to the back of the room where an antique secretaire sat open. A matching desk chair was pull up to the lowered desktop — both family heirlooms, no doubt. On the top shelf of the desk, he found a picture of himself with Leah in the Valley of the Blue Moon in Peru. They were in their wedding attire just returned from the higher realms, streaming with light. He wondered who’d taken the photo, and picked it up to take a closer look. Chris held it to his heart, and feeling emotionally cradled in Leah’s presence, let the tears flow while witnessing in his soul the long, low arc of the past decade. He studied the photo again through teary eyes. It did seem eons ago — in a world and time that had still held some promise.

Clearly, one thing he had brought back with him was a feeling of despair for the future of humanity. Leah’s infectious love for life would be a catalyst of healing as the surfacing of this grief was already upon him. She was the only one — on earth — capable of rekindling his spiritual warrior. He set the picture gently down on the secretaire and moved to the patio doors at the back of the room.

He found a private deck out the back of the house and stepped out into a sea of tranquility, taking a deep breath of the forest-scented air. Obviously, this was the spot for meditation and yoga, as sturdy cushions and a rolled-up thick mat were stacked in a corner. The rainwater viaduct ran beside the deck along a rammed earth wall and the space beyond the deck looked like a water garden. He would have to ask Leah about it over lunch. Despite the proximity of neighboring homes, he felt in a very private space. Climbing grapes were already filling in an arbor overhead, though the house couldn’t have been more than two years old.

The deck adjoined the bedroom. Trying the patio door, he found it unlocked. The bedroom was another sea of tranquility. There was nothing in it to distract one from the business of sleep, or sacred union. Simple, soft, inviting, came to mind — pure white bed linen and upholstery illumined the dreamscape of taupe, smoke and dusky purple. Another picture caught his eye on a small chest of drawers — Natalie with Brian, a brother they’d lost on the Peru expedition. Brian had earned his stripes in Peru saving them all and the Mission from some nasty energy. He and Natalie had been sweet on each other. Chris whispered a sincere prayer of gratitude to Brian and replaced the picture. He thought of him often. There was another photo, which he assumed to be Leah’s son, Nathan, because he had her wide blue eyes and blond hair, his Asian wife, an older boy and a little girl. They were a handsome looking lot.

The sidewall of the bedroom was filled with a rounded bay of windows, which looked out on a walled garden. He figured that the garden was accessed from the kitchen and would be the back entrance to the house. Again, though Leah’s cottage was right next door to her neighbors on both sides, it was completely private and filled with light — remarkably good design. Despite its compact size, it felt spacious.

In a hallway extension of the bedroom he peered into a master bathroom of glass and buffed limestone, which seemed a perfect match for the rammed earth walls. A high window opened to the deck. The bedroom colors had wandered in, as towels, floor mats and a vase full of fresh flowers. Across from that another small room held the toilet — very Aussie idea, separating the toilet from the bath.

The bedroom door opened into a dining area, which adjoined the kitchen and opened to the living room. The left wall was the rear–side of the blue-violet living room wall but this side was rendered in muted sage green — a nice contrast to the buffed sandstone floor. The counters were granite and the cupboards a whitewash stained hickory in a European style. He followed the rounded end of the hall wall towards the living room to stand before a niche he’d noticed earlier. There he found a beautiful picture of Don Eduardo, Leah’s spiritual teacher and a great spiritual leader in Peru. A lighted candle sat to the side of the picture. Seeing Chris there from the kitchen, Leah came to stand behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her cheek resting against his shoulder, eyes on Don Eduardo. "Did you know that our wayki, Don Eduardo, passed to the other side last November?" she whispered.

No, I didn’t, Leah.

He was so generous with me in this life, and still is. He’s brought you back to me, I know.

I reckon you’re right, lass. He checked on us often through his double whilst still in body. I am guessing it was after his earthly death that he intervened in such a way as to save the lot of us. Maybe we can take turns lighting the candle?

An excellent idea, she said, giving him a good squeeze. Lunch is ready when you are.

The salmon was impressive, and, like the salad, filled with life force. The company was a real pleasure. He asked questions and got well-informed answers. The homes were paired up to share a wood-stoked boiler for hot water radiant floor heat in the winter. The toilets, a second of which was right off the dining area, were composting through a communal sewage system. She gave him some quick instructions of use pointing out a checklist guide on the bathroom wall. Hot water for washing was solar but assisted in winter through the boiler water. The community water sources were gushing springs in the mountains, which gave them gravity flow from a large collection tank up in the hills. The springs flowed into a river running along the west side of the property and the valley.

There were also above ground and underground rainwater tanks, mostly for the gardens, which had to be irrigated during California summers. The older farms had well water for irrigation. The water garden he’d seen at the end of the deck filtered grey water before entering the rainwater collection systems. The New Avalon village was ‘off the power grid’ through various installations, and Tommy was researching and experimenting with forms of endless, free energy from sun, water and air.

We have such diverse talent and creativity here that everyone has been able to work at tasks they love, Leah explained. "There’s been no drudgery thus far. I do a fair amount of research for the show at our tech center, in my office at the studio, and often right here at the table in the evenings. Then I work at the studio weekday mornings, preparing the weekly show with Natalie. Georgia gets together with us on Fridays to go over the plan and spends her other days homeschooling the younger children, including her own. On Wednesday afternoons I’m on veggie harvest and boxes with Ellia.

Georgia’s partner, Nick Locke, is a chiropractor who is also a homeopath/naturopath. He spends maybe half a day for four days in the clinic, which is also up by the studio and the bank. I actually got reinstated as a licensed MD and did some ER training so that I can help with allopathic medicine, as needed, mostly injuries and childhood stuff. Clinic checks are brief, but I drop everything when I am needed there. We haven’t a hospital for a good 30 miles.

You are practicing medicine again, legally? I thought for sure you’d unhooked your shingle for good, he laughed.

I remember the look on your face when I mentioned I’d been a doctor in Peru. In fact, it is one of my favorite memories of you — a rare moment of helpless shock, she giggled.

I’m glad I can make you smile, even when I’ve evaporated, he replied.

"Well, it was more difficult to muster up a smile after you left, she admitted. Now, what shall we do for you this afternoon? You must be exhausted. Want a nap?" she asked, taking their dishes to the sink for a quick wash.

Your sofa is seductive to the extreme, he said.

I have to agree with you, she replied, grinning. I pictured you on it when I bought it. My old one wouldn’t fit in the evacuation truck.

Did you really picture me on it? he asked, baffled.

Absolutely, she assured him. I never gave up on you. I’m going to admit that you do have competition on occasion though. Be on the lookout for an adorable, curly–haired white Bichon. His name is Harry and his mum is Natalie. Harry was in charge of customer relations at her bookstore out east. He’s a social fellow and likes to come by for a visit late afternoon. He’d be good for a cuddle and this bit of salmon skin I’ve saved for him, she said pointing to a small bowl on the counter.

Harry and I will be good mates. Does he knock on the door?

No, he jumps up on the porch bench in front of the window and announces his arrival, she laughed. Now you are assigned to the sofa while I go meet up with Natalie to get next week’s show set up and check in at the clinic. How does that sound?

Nick of time, I’d say, he replied, yawning.

Good. This is your house, Chris. Take a shower, put your things away, you can throw dirty clothes into the basket in the bath. If you wake up before I return, go out for a wander. I’ll be back by five.

Chris settled himself on the sofa while Leah went to the bedroom to change and freshen up before leaving. She brought him a pillow from the bed, leaned over to kiss him goodbye and walked out with a load of files to meet Natalie. He noted that she’d never been this organized in Peru — quite the opposite, in fact. He was out cold in seconds.

Leah and Natalie had made up a wish list of guests weeks ago, cross-referenced it against listener and viewer suggestions, and then pared it down to six, five for the panel and one alternate — all eager. They had both been reviewing congressional proposals, bills on the floor of the house and senate both in Washington and Sacramento, local government reactions to proposed legislation, proposals to cut social safety net funding, privatization of social security, and then what really mattered — public opinion. They strategized topics, lead questions and what they gleaned to be the truth — an art requiring between–the–lines reading, historic precedent, and plain old women’s intuition.

The show always began with Leah’s review of the week’s top news stories, often with interviews, in person or via Skype. The second half of the show focused on an issue as a debate. Leah moderated the debate but also pressed the issues. On Friday they would stage their own debate with Georgia and let her organize the show’s imaging, pace and flow. She and Natalie would wrap it up by noon, leaving her an hour to check in at the clinic, which was opposite the bank in the village courtyard.

After she and Natalie were done with their delayed, post-show meeting the day Chris arrived, Leah stopped by the clinic just to check in. Nick was filling out patient records at the front desk when she walked in. He was younger than most of the men, wiry, with Native American features - tawny skin, high cheekbones and sparkling dark eyes — though his blood was maybe half French.

Hey, Nick. Anything interesting come up today? she asked.

I don’t know. Do you think poison oak is interesting? he queried, tongue-in-cheek. I spent most of the day composting with Sonia, though Freddie, the WWOOFer, took a good kick from Reggie, the goat. He’ll be good by tomorrow as the arnica takes hold — more ego than anything.

Well, we are a healthy lot here, and it is summer on a farm. However, I wonder if you would take a look at a friend’s leg. He’s just arrived, so I’ve not got details for you beyond it being a motorcycle meets gravel accident. I’ll have a look at any wounds tonight but he’s limping noticeably and relying on a cane. Could be his knee.

Some excitement, at last, he replied, suddenly alert. Who is he?

Georgia would know him from the Peru trip, and may have mentioned Chris Kramer to you, she offered. He got some ER treatment back in Perth, but I’m guessing, didn’t follow up before his flight over.

"Did she ever mention him to me — the wizard! This is getting better by the minute. When can I meet him?"

Well, you’ll meet him at our community dinner tomorrow evening. You two can set something up for Monday, maybe?

Yeah, great. I’m coaching soccer tomorrow afternoon on the commons – all ages, he invited, winking at her.

Nice try, coach, she laughed.

Right. Well, if a limping, charismatic and, apparently, breathtaking Aussie bloke comes by brandishing a cane, I’ll introduce myself, he quipped.

Leah laughed. I can’t argue with Georgia’s description except that he’s shown up gaunt, undernourished I’d guess, and ten years older — as we all are. He’s still as handsome as they come. Give Georgia a hug for me. She’ll be surprised to know he’s surfaced. See you tomorrow, Nick, she said, making her way to the clinic door.

Leah found Chris and Harry curled up together on the sofa, sound asleep — a heart-melting picture to say the least. She silently slipped into the kitchen, depositing her files on the far end of the counter and checked the back doorstep for deliveries. There she found a box of mixed veggies, freshly harvested, and another insulated box with half a dozen eggs, a quart of raw milk fresh from Sally, her favorite Jersey, a pound of butter, also Sally’s specialty, and a small wheel of goat-milk Brie — usually superbly ripe and runny. A French loaf of crusty wood oven-baked sourdough from their bakery topped it all off.

Boxes like these arrived on her back doorstep between four-thirty and five o’clock in the afternoon three times a week. She sometimes brought the Wednesday delivery home herself since that was her day to harvest veggies and pack the boxes with Ellia. She also helped Sonia with propagation and seedling care, honoring her love for the sacredness of renewed life and the green thumb that had come down her mother’s bloodline.

She put the perishables in the fridge, making a mental note to change her order to feed two instead of one. That felt mighty nice. She would also have to interrogate Chris further to see if he’d be interested in trying their grass fed biodynamic meats. As Leah was pushing the produce drawer in, Harry arrived at her side.

Harry, darling, she whispered. Have you got a kiss for me?

Harry lifted himself up, resting one paw on her knee, and gave her nose a quick lick. That’s my boy, she said, giving his free paw a shake. Leah picked him up for a cuddle as she shut the door and turned to find Chris leaning against the kitchen doorway.

Hey, lass, been here long? he asked.

Just a few minutes. Harry heard me putting away the groceries and had to check it out.

Where’s the market? he asked, absently.

"You are understandably confused, my dear — must have been a good nap. We are the market and the groceries arrive right at your doorstep, as if you were as important as the Queen of England," she reported in a pretty good English accent.

Chris rubbed his eyes and gave his hair a tussle. Who are you, again, and where am I? he queried — followed by that grin of his.

Leah beamed back at him, then set Harry down so he could run right to Chris, jumping up in his arms. Do we need to see that Harry gets home? he asked her.

Natalie will give him a yell and we can toss him to her over the patio wall or let him out the front door. They live right next door. By the way, we’re going to set you up with Georgia’s Nick for Monday morning. I’ll have a look at your wounds from the outside tonight and he’ll have a feel on the inside then. How are you feeling? Sleep well?

Honestly? I don’t remember letting Harry in or feeding him the salmon skin if that’s an indication. I am smitten with your sofa, by the way — not at all sure you’ll be able to drag me to bed with you, he sighed, hobbling over to hug her. Mind if I give your nose a lick too?

Gosh, you boys are easy to love.

They stepped out the back door with a tray of the fresh bread, butter, goat cheese and tea. Leah had planted a small culinary herb garden along the wall by the back door and opposite, under the bedroom windows, a gently curved row of lavender, now buzzing with honeybees. She broke off a little parsley, adding it to the tray. The stone path merged with a free-form stone patio where she placed the tray on a rustic timber table. From patio to garden wall everything not a stone path or viaduct and what must have been a small garden shed was filled with flowers.

Let me guess. The baker is your cameraman? Chris posited, looking over the tray.

Nice try. He’d be Christina McMillan’s hubby, Spence. Yes, Spencer McMillan is the baker and he loves it. Christina and Spence and the bakery are fairly recent community additions. They have a girl and a boy, maybe eight and ten years of age. Christina’s got to be in Sacramento when the legislature meets so Spence is the stay at home parent. Georgia is their homeschool teacher so Spence can bake our bread. Everyone is happy. When Christina comes back from Sacramento she hauls back specialty food we can’t get up here. It’s a luxury we appreciate as long as it continues. That would be our biodynamic olives, olive oil, lemons, limes, favorite coffees and chocolate – like that - and a lot of information.

Got anyone in Washington, yet? he asked, in jest.

I’m working on it.

Seriously?

Seriously.

back to top

chapter two: the commons

After tea, they returned Harry to Natalie’s house by way of the front door. Her house was a duplicate of Leah’s. Natalie was sorting through her veggie box with a glass of red. She poured them each a glass and gave Chris a quick tour of her place, while Leah and Harry sat on the front porch, drinking in the wine and a perfect summer evening. Whereas Leah’s tastes tended towards violets, blues and greens, Natalie was a lover of bold yellows, oranges and reds. Between them they covered the visible spectrum and the rainbow body. No wonder they were such good friends, Chris thought. The complement of differences creates the balance point.

"What do you think of New Avalon, so far?" Natalie asked, as they wandered the house.

It’s hard not to be impressed, Natalie. I haven’t seen all that much yet, but a tremendous amount of manifestation has occurred in a relatively short time. It makes me feel you were all moving towards this for many years, then the galvanizing event occurred — for Leah, it would have been the fire.

Absolutely. For me it was watching small bookstores collapse in the face of the big chains and the Internet. My place had enough charm and a good following to get me a high price — and right before the financial disaster. There’s no way I could sell it for that now. Sonia and Will were planning a new future together so we were all up in the air and available — and loved the idea. Georgia and Nick were looking for change when Leah put the call out. They both wanted out of the city and city schools and they all adore Leah. Ellia and Greg were already talking to her about community when the big fires came. So it was all serendipitous.

Was it hard for Leah, losing the family property? She seems to have moved on.

It was, but amazingly she turned it all into a kind of liberation. She didn’t sit on it for more than a month, then she started moving energy in amazing ways and we were all caught up in it.

"So when did the ‘telly’ show come about? What was the catalyst there?" he asked.

"That’s a little more convoluted to explain. She immediately and instinctively turned all of her proceeds to gold. I know she would have told you that story as she regards it as the moment of New Avalon’s birth. At the same time that she was sitting on her increasingly valuable pile of gold, she applied herself to the understanding of the world’s economic systems as if she were heading for a PhD or a job with the Federal Reserve. She explained to us that all indicators pointed to collapse, global collapse and not just the economy — all the systems. Much of what she foresaw has already unfolded. She wanted to find a way to bring all that heady information and the issues to your average citizen in a way they could easily understand. Then they could intelligently prepare for collapsing systems.

"Sonia’s partner, Will, actually understood most of what she was talking about, whereas the rest of us just took the nuggets and acted on them. He is also a tech geek and suggested freedomofspeech.org as a way to reach a lot of progressives. Georgia loved the idea and used her savvy to get Leah on a series of progressive talk radio shows and NPR. After a year of getting her voice heard, we went to Free Speech with a sample video. They loved her and supported the underlying spiritual nature of her message. The economy was not recovering and everyone wanted to know more. So there you go. She’s driven — so on mission her energy seems limitless, she concluded. We’re a non-profit studio under an umbrella of the whole effort here and our Outreach program."

They wandered out on the porch to join Leah and Harry. "I expect to see a lot more of New Avalon tomorrow, Chris began, but I’m curious about communications. If you’re off–grid and my phone tells me there is no reception here, how can you manage to transmit a televised show, or know what’s going on out in the world? And what about the tech center you mentioned, Leah?"

"That would be confusing, she admitted. I regret laying so much on you before you even had a rest. But, hey, your astute observations tell me your brain is functioning normally."

He laughed. It’s likely the wine, getting me loosened up, unwound and grounded here.

Well, it would do that, Natalie offered. It’s local and a gold medal winner.

A really nice Zinfandel, Chris, Leah agreed. "And such nice people making it too. As for your understandable confusion, let me explain. The village is off the grid completely, but the courtyard ventures are rigged up to use some on–grid power as needed. There was power and phone service already here in the valley because of the family farms that were, and still are, operating here. After storage, and that is massive, all of our excess self–generated power is sold back to the power company to offset what we are using to run the tech center and the studio, security at the credit union and clinic, and a few other ‘too big to fail’ parts of New Avalon. We are only filming and transmitting for an hour a week, all digital, and we generate so much power we have huge credits with the power company. We’ll be using that credit for our inevitable expansion. And, we do have a backup generator should the grid go down in a winter storm. The show must go on, you know."

Right, Natalie said, joining in. The whole idea here is that when the grid goes down we hardly know it. It doesn’t make a difference to us. Our water is gravity flow, our heat is wood, cooking fuel is bio-ethanol, and we have wood heated cooking in the community complex as backup. We do need refrigeration and freezer power if it isn’t winter, but right now the grid typically goes down in the winter. We had a few drills last winter with two big storms and had good fun. One of them really dumped some snow on us and the younger ones helped hitch our working horses up to a sleigh that the farmers left us. They organized rides for everyone to meals, the farm, and the warehouse.

Warehouse? he asked, curious to know more.

It’s part of the farm, Chris, Leah offered. We needed a big place for cold storage, hanging meat, and stockpiling grains and dried goods, for instance. It is on grid power for the moment with back up generators. I’ll take you there tomorrow. The main supply line from Los Angeles to Seattle is not far away. You would have had to come on Interstate 5 to get here. For now, we can still place bulk dry food orders and meet the transport trucks out on the highway to transfer them to our truck. We decided not to go Stone Age as long as we didn’t have to, she laughed.

Well, there’s much to see tomorrow, he commented, then led the discussion back to the weather. From what I can tell, summer is sublime. What’s winter like?

Natalie and Leah glanced at each other hesitantly then Leah took the question. We’re in a fairly warm valley compared to the rest of the area, Leah offered. We do get snow in the winter but nothing like the mountains around us. Mostly we get heavy rains. There is good skiing close by but sometimes the passes are, well, impassable. But then the sun comes out and it melts quickly. This is California, after all, she concluded, cheerfully.

Natalie went on. We have early spring and late fall compared to the mountain towns around us and that is a big plus when our produce starts coming in early for the farm markets we attend. With the season extender greenhouses and hoop houses here we have fresh food all year long and a warm, sunny place to hang out in the winter.

Sounds better than my last ten winters, he said, tipping his glass to them. I think I’ll like it.

Well, aren’t we lucky, Leah teased.

He gave her hand a squeeze, even though Harry looked a bit jealous. Harry would need to adjust to loving them both. It could work.

Back at their house, Leah put together a vegetable curry with rice, along with a cucumber raita to ease up the overflowing veggie drawers in the fridge. Chris chopped the veggies and kissed the cook, having enjoyed the Zinfandel immensely.

Over dinner they discussed the options for meat, fish and other protein sources. Chris surprised her by agreeing to try anything and everything. He wanted an immersion experience of New Avalon and