The Twelfth Insight - James Redfield [56]
He was right, and we all knew it. Islam did have the strongest emphasis on this part of our Connection.
“By the way,” Hira said, “I’m going back to Jerusalem. I can’t explain it, but something is happening at the Temple Mount, the place where the ruins of David’s temple are located.”
I felt a shiver. I knew somehow that her intuition was directly connected, in a way we didn’t yet understand, to the Apocalyptics, and to their clandestine plan to end the world.
For an hour I helped everyone get ready to leave. Wil had managed to find a charter out of Sedona airport to Phoenix, then a flight to New York and Cairo. Adjar and Hira were driving to Phoenix and then flying to their respective destinations. Coleman and I had decided to stay the night and then leave early the next morning, primarily because we needed all day to take care of our cars and make arrangements.
Wolf had somehow secured clean cell phones for all of us, and at one point Wil handed them out.
“These will help us stay connected,” Wil had said. “But remember, text only, no voice. Here is a list of everyone’s numbers. Commit them to memory and then destroy the list. Everyone has a phone now except Rachel and Tommy. Just use the phone sparingly.”
I followed Wil and helped take down his tent, uneasy that he was leaving again.
“What do you think is going to happen?” I asked.
He looked me up and down. “I think we’re beginning a downhill run now. We’re going to move through the rest of these Integrations and find the Twelfth. I just hope a lot of other people are doing the same thing out there. No matter what happens, just keep going. I’ll find you at Sinai.”
Within a couple of minutes he was loaded up and driving off with Hira, Adjar, and Wolf, giving me one last resolute wave.
“He has a great guide,” Grandmother suddenly said from behind me.
I turned to find her standing several yards away, reaching out with a cup of tea smelling of sage and rosemary.
“This will help you on your path,” she said.
“Grandmother,” I replied, reaching for the tea, “you helped us get started with your dance.”
She didn’t answer but nodded out toward the distant horizon. I followed her eyes to see a larger sliver of moon hovering in the late afternoon sky.
Just then a crow cawed loudly down by the big tree, which made me flinch for some reason.
“You have a good guide, too,” she said. “You will enjoy your visit to Sister Mountain.”
She was still looking into the distance.
“Are you talking about Mount Sinai?” I asked.
She was walking away. “It is red, too, like the hills of Sedona.”
“You live in an interesting world, Grandmother,” I called out.
She stopped walking for an instant, not looking back, then smiled and continued on her way.
I was leaning back against a small tree near my tent wondering why Grandmother called Mount Sinai “Sister Mountain,” when Coleman walked up.
“I wondered where you got off to,” I said.
“I just took a walk,” he replied, smiling. “I needed some time to reflect on everything you’ve gotten me into on this trip. I never dreamed I’d have these experiences, much less have to keep a scientific perspective on it all.”
I nodded. “No kidding. A lot has happened. It’s forcing us to put our spirituality into practice, and it’s all been building on itself.”
Coleman nodded as though he wanted me to elaborate, so I just let it come intuitively.
“The First Integration,” I said, “sustaining Synchronistic flow, got us going. That’s what was so hard to do before. All we have to do is expect it, and it happens. After that it’s a matter of staying in that ‘star of your own movie’ centeredness by telling others the truth about your path and how it is unfolding. That’s when each Synchronicity begins to lead to another one.
“Then we were shown how the Second Integration works. And how we should try to find a higher truth with others, even in uncomfortable encounters.”
I nodded toward him, remembering our first conversation in which I’d written him off as a skeptic. He knew what I