The Twelfth Insight - James Redfield [72]
“This is the hour that has the most magic,” he repeated. “A human can do things at this time of day that can’t be done at any other time. Just look out at this light.”
Tommy was pointing toward the east where everything was now bathed in a golden-colored aura, and the sky had turned a darker blue. The swirling clouds overhead were now taking on rich browns and streaks of orange. What struck me most was how the light reflected on the rock and sand, bringing out even more rippling highlights.
“Let’s walk south down to the desert floor,” Tommy said. “We can see better there.”
Tommy led us through the rocks along a different route from the one Coleman and I had traveled, winding along the spires and shelves and sheer drop-offs in a much more efficient manner, as though following a hidden trail that Coleman and I could not detect.
When we arrived at a flatter area, he stopped and sat down, looking back at Mount Sinai. Now the sun was hidden completely and the whole scene was cast in an even more mysterious tone. We sat down beside him.
“Look out at Sister Mountain,” he instructed, “and focus on it completely. Look at the lines the shadows draw.”
This captured my interest, and I began to see the huge range as having a particularly unique form. It came to me that every mountain range of this sort, rocky or wooded, had different lines created by its shadows. Because of this, every mountain system has an entirely unique countenance.
“Now, tune in to its beauty,” Tommy said, “and feel Agape in relationship to it.”
I was reminded of my experience in Peru at Viciente when attempting to see the auras, or halos, around plants. But I had the feeling Tommy wanted us to see something more fundamental in the landscape.
I focused intensely on the beauty of the mountain and tried to see it as one expressive form. And then a wave of Agape for the mountain gushed forth inside me. Coleman and I looked at each other. He was feeling it, too.
“Now look at the plant right here in front of us,” Tommy commanded. “See its uniqueness and beauty in Agape.”
He was talking about a short, compact, round bush that looked like a miniature tumbleweed. It was no more than three feet in front of us. I tuned in to the plant and looked for its beauty. As before, my emotions exploded with Agape.
“Now look back at the mountain again,” Tommy said, “and see its increased color and form, as if it now has greater majesty in your field of vision.”
Just as Tommy said that, the mountain literally jumped out in color and impressiveness. I looked at Coleman, and he shook his head in wonder without turning, showing me he was seeing this as well.
I then noticed that while I was looking at Coleman, I could sense where the mountain was, although I was not looking at it. I was feeling it in the exact same way I could feel my hand behind my back, only with greater intensity.
“Now look back at the plant and feel its impact on your emotions,” Tommy instructed. “Everything in our perceptual field has more than an appearance, it has an emotional identity as well—what the Ninth calls a Feeling Identity.”
Instantly, I realized the small plant did have an emotional identity, just as with the mountain. I experienced a sudden insight into why we all have favorite furniture, or come back to a familiar vista over and over. Objects have an identity that touches us emotionally.
“Now, switch your focus back and forth between the mountain and the plant.”
I did just that, focusing on and feeling the mountain far away, and then the plant close to us. At first nothing of note occurred,