Zion presented me with a panoramic view and I surveyed her land like a Spiritual broker; hell-bent on laying claim to the buried flecks of gold birthed beneath her stony ground. I saw numbers in road signs and watched the highway blur beyond hot tears as a desert sunset reflected hot purply-pink across my cornea. Mining for gold is a fool’s bane, but I was in love with staking land claims.
If cliches are the False Self’s sense of expropriating “knowledge” to bury more of the Soul’s gold, then “the more I learn and the more I experience, the less I truly know,” cliche is not such a bad mantra afterall. I pondered these thoughts as the Medicine Man placed his vibrational tuning fork to my chest. The metal hummed and whirred to the frequency of a tiny sparrow.
“You’re an Absolute Beginner,” he grimaced as he replaced the fork, chiming it once again with more verve and gusto. A slight hum, whirr, and an audible “click” emanated from the device. Ironically, the handle was gold. I choked a sigh of relief.
The Medicine Man patted me on the back and whistled as he strode across the park. His leather shoes made a slight squeaking sound as each foot pounded the earth.