The Twelfth Insight - James Redfield [15]
“Yeah, I remember.”
He glanced over and caught my eye. “Food is the first level of energy we allow into our consciousness, so it’s basic to integrating a higher mastery over life. And the ironic thing is that real food, the kind that’s organic and pure, and freshly picked, stimulates those same receptors in the brain, and gives us just as much natural euphoria—without bringing us down later. Did you know that most people have never tasted a fresh-picked organic vegetable? Most of what we buy in regular stores is weeks old and stone dead.”
At just this moment, Wil abruptly stopped talking and was staring at the top of an exit ramp we were passing. He shook his head.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“There was an SUV parked at that last exit. It happened last night as well.”
“You think they’re still following us?”
“Not following us, just observing. They must be tracking us with a satellite or something.”
“What? That would mean these people are highly connected with the government.”
“That’s right. But at least they don’t seem to want to detain us. They could have done that anytime after daylight. They just want to know where we are going for some reason.”
I looked Wil in the eyes. “You think it’s the Document they’re interested in?”
He nodded. “Looks that way.”
For the rest of the day, we didn’t talk much. I periodically felt anxious about our safety, but each time I managed to shrug it off and recover my waiting-for-Synchronicity attitude. At this point, I felt there was no alternative to pursuing this Document, at least for a while longer. The only effect I saw on Wil was that he became hypervigilant about finding clean food.
“You getting poisoned,” he said to me, “was a reminder.”
Every time we stopped for gas, he’d ask for the location of organic food stores and farmer’s markets, and we were able to shop at several. At each mealtime, we’d exit at a truck stop and fire up the lightweight propane cooker Wil carried in his pack. In fifteen minutes we’d have enough steamed vegetables for a great, nutritious meal. After twenty-four hours of this, I felt incredibly energized and clear thinking. I could even see with greater acuity.
By nightfall we were in Albuquerque, where we eased into an enclosed garage owned by a friend of Wil’s and had the vehicle and all our belongings scanned for surveillance devices. Everything was clean. Afterward, we spent the night at a small hotel nearby, which we paid for in cash, and rose early the next morning to drive to Arizona.
At midday, we began to notice the vehicles again, and by midafternoon, we took the exit to Sedona, driving right by one of the SUVs sitting in plain sight.
“They want us to see them,” Wil commented.
“Who are these people?” I asked.
“I don’t know. But you can bet that sooner or later they’re going to tell us.”
I just shook my head and tried to focus on the red rock hills we were driving through. Entering the Sedona area was always a reminder that some places are pure power spots. If you’re clear enough to sense it, driving through the little town of Oak Creek, and then up into Sedona proper, is a journey into a higher world.
It feels like pure aliveness and clarity, and as you gaze out at the spectacular hills and formations surrounding the small town, you immediately feel a change in your perception. Everything around you stands out more, and the Synchronicity literally explodes in frequency, just by virtue of being in this place.
We drove slowly along the main street leading uptown, looking around at the people on the sidewalks. There seemed to be a lot of tourists and locals, and judging from their dress and demeanor, people from out of town who weren’t tourists. They looked like serious trekkers who, like us, were looking for something. For a while we cruised around uptown seeing what might happen, and for a moment, I felt as though I was about to run into someone of importance. Yet nothing occurred.
Since our food had run out, I suggested we drive west toward the sinking sun