darkemeralds (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
darkemeralds) wrote2007-08-17 01:14 am
darkemeralds) wrote2007-08-17 01:14 am
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It was twenty years ago today
It's been twenty years.
Harmonic Convergence, August 17, 1987. The last day of the ninth hell, and the beginning of the 25-year countdown to the end of history on December 21, 2012.
It's a little hard to describe without sounding like I'm making fun of myself. But I'm not. It was a powerful experience. I believe now as I did then that there's more to this life than--well, just this life. I believe that thought has power. That people are connected by a field of intentionality. That there's Spirit, and that I'm part of it.
Three friends and I drove out the Columbia Gorge at three in the morning, dressed as ceremonially as we could manage--long dresses, silk scarves, symbolic jewelry, ritual makeup (which is to say lots of eyeliner, as I recall). We made our way to a secret spot at the edge of the cliffs under a tiny stand of scrub oaks. There, we meditated and laid down a crystal-and-copper grid in the pitch darkness, sang a few songs, and waited for the dawn.
When it came, we could see dozens of other people, in groups of two or three, perched in unlikely niches along the clifftops, all facing the rising sun.
There were supposed to be 144,000 of us worldwide. That's how many participants in this big, mystical, calendrical meditation were required to form a thought-seed, a bridge of conscious intention into the new era.
As it turned out, there were millions. The event satisfied an unexpected hunger in people, I think, in those "greed is good" days. The news media caught on and gave it coverage. The term "harmonic convergence" entered the language--albeit in a sarcastic way.
For my sister, who participated from the slopes of a Hawaiian volcano, it was the first mystical experience she'd allowed herself since childhood. I think it was a spiritual awakening for a lot of people. For me, looking back on a line of mystical experiences about 45 years long, Harmonic Convergence was the big one, the high point, the watershed.
After the sun was well above the hills, we wiped off the really egregious eyeliner and stopped down in Hood River for an early breakfast. I remember feeling very silent. Awed. Sure, it was just a sunrise. That happens every day. Our intention in witnessing it, from that spot, with that ceremony, along with so many other people around the world--that's where the power was.
It's not an experience that comes along twice in a lifetime. In the twenty years since, the trappings have changed and so have I. But we joined ourselves to something that day, and it's still there, and I can still feel it.
Did we build our bridge? The beauty of ideas like Harmonic Convergence--prophetic and enticing and entirely woo-woo--is that you can't tell. You can only believe.
And I do.
Happy Anniversary, Harmonic Convergence, from those who remember.
Harmonic Convergence, August 17, 1987. The last day of the ninth hell, and the beginning of the 25-year countdown to the end of history on December 21, 2012.
It's a little hard to describe without sounding like I'm making fun of myself. But I'm not. It was a powerful experience. I believe now as I did then that there's more to this life than--well, just this life. I believe that thought has power. That people are connected by a field of intentionality. That there's Spirit, and that I'm part of it.
Three friends and I drove out the Columbia Gorge at three in the morning, dressed as ceremonially as we could manage--long dresses, silk scarves, symbolic jewelry, ritual makeup (which is to say lots of eyeliner, as I recall). We made our way to a secret spot at the edge of the cliffs under a tiny stand of scrub oaks. There, we meditated and laid down a crystal-and-copper grid in the pitch darkness, sang a few songs, and waited for the dawn.
When it came, we could see dozens of other people, in groups of two or three, perched in unlikely niches along the clifftops, all facing the rising sun.
There were supposed to be 144,000 of us worldwide. That's how many participants in this big, mystical, calendrical meditation were required to form a thought-seed, a bridge of conscious intention into the new era.
As it turned out, there were millions. The event satisfied an unexpected hunger in people, I think, in those "greed is good" days. The news media caught on and gave it coverage. The term "harmonic convergence" entered the language--albeit in a sarcastic way.
For my sister, who participated from the slopes of a Hawaiian volcano, it was the first mystical experience she'd allowed herself since childhood. I think it was a spiritual awakening for a lot of people. For me, looking back on a line of mystical experiences about 45 years long, Harmonic Convergence was the big one, the high point, the watershed.
After the sun was well above the hills, we wiped off the really egregious eyeliner and stopped down in Hood River for an early breakfast. I remember feeling very silent. Awed. Sure, it was just a sunrise. That happens every day. Our intention in witnessing it, from that spot, with that ceremony, along with so many other people around the world--that's where the power was.
It's not an experience that comes along twice in a lifetime. In the twenty years since, the trappings have changed and so have I. But we joined ourselves to something that day, and it's still there, and I can still feel it.
Did we build our bridge? The beauty of ideas like Harmonic Convergence--prophetic and enticing and entirely woo-woo--is that you can't tell. You can only believe.
And I do.
Happy Anniversary, Harmonic Convergence, from those who remember.
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