The Twelfth Insight - James Redfield [52]
THE ART OF TUNING IN
As the sun began to sink in the west, I suddenly felt the urge to walk down the hill past the pond to the rocky area that had earlier attracted me for some reason. Wil had ended our last session very abruptly—so quickly, in fact, that I had the eerie sense we might be leaving soon, and I wanted to see this part of the homestead while I still had the chance.
As I walked, more thoughts about the Seventh Integration came to mind. The old Prophecy had predicted that, at some point, humanity would heighten its perception of those inner impressions long classified as intuitions, hunches, and so-called gut feelings. After years of emphasizing rational thought and logic during the dominance of the material and secular worldview, it predicted we would finally take seriously the treasure of information coming from the right hemisphere of the brain: the part that gave us a sense of knowing, without being aware exactly of how we knew.
At this moment, I caught sight of a lone figure walking about two hundred yards to the left of me. It was Tommy, walking back toward the homestead. For an instant, I thought about turning around or yelling out to him, because I wanted to know more about the Mayan Calendar. Yet for some reason I kept walking, certain now that I came down here for a reason. I felt sure a Synchronicity was about to happen.
After several minutes, I entered a sandy area dotted with prickly pear cacti next to a grove of large mesquite trees. Without warning, a man suddenly walked out of the mesquite. Peterson!
I grimaced. This wasn’t what I was expecting.
“I need to talk to you,” he said. “It’s serious.”
He glanced up toward the house to make sure no one else was coming, and he urged me to follow him farther into the grove.
“Do you know those extremists are still looking for you?” he said.
“We were hoping they’d left,” I replied.
“Some of them did, but they left a few to search for you. Do you know who these people are?”
I nodded.
He was shaking his head, worried. “It took us awhile to piece together what they’re trying to do. It’s exactly what I was talking about. They’re raising the stakes.”
“What are you going to do about them?” I asked.
He looked away. “I don’t know. What are you learning from this Document?”
I thought for a moment about whether to answer, then decided to just tell the truth. “The Document is describing a way to stop the escalation of violence.”
“The templates,” he said.
I was startled. “So you’re actually reading this thing.”
“It’s my job.”
“But do you understand what you’re reading? Did you see we were protected?”
He chuckled. “I saw you were lucky. If we hadn’t come along, you wouldn’t have made it.”
“I don’t think it was luck,” I said.
“It doesn’t matter,” he pressed. “Listen to me. Things are accelerating, just like I said they would. Even with the action that’s been taken with Iran, nothing has changed. Iran is still working on nukes. We think they may already have the capability to give them to terrorists.”
I looked at him hard. “I heard the Apocalyptics already have a plan to create a war.”
He straightened his sunglasses. “I’m still hoping this crazy Document might give us another way out. As I told you, no one is going to like what we’ll have to do to stop this threat.”
In that moment, I realized that contacting us and following the progress of the Document was something he was doing much more on his own than I had thought. And as we exchanged looks, I could also tell he knew I knew.
“I’m way out on a limb here,” he said. “And we’re both running out of time.”
He looked at me as though asking for more information. So I began to describe as best I could what the Breakthrough on the mountain felt like, and the idea that the Templates of Understanding could somehow create a wave of influence that might dispel the Apocalyptics’ intentions, although we didn’t fully understand how