by Sara Estey
Not being sure what it means—of me and not of me—I just sit there with the message.
That night, over dinner, Kadek and I discuss our day and the next steps.
“I’m not sure why, but I’m getting that something is missing from this time 40,000 years ago,” I say.
“What do you mean, Mary?” Kadek asks.
“I don’t know, Kadek, I really don’t,” I say. “Did you take the Guru any other place besides the caves and this park when he visited Sulawesi?”
“No, just here. He did stay on a few weeks by himself, and may have visited other places. I don’t know,” Kadek says.
“I see,” I say, wondering if he may have found others who shared this path of returning to our higher human vibration. I wonder if he found the women?
“Of course we also visited Borneo,” Kadek says, bringing me out of my thoughts.
“Borneo?” I ask.
“Yes, he was insistent upon visiting the orangutans,” Kadek says.
Kadek goes on to tell me that the orangutan sanctuary is just an hour’s flight from us.
“Would we be able to go tomorrow?” I ask, not sure why I suddenly feel drawn to visit, but knowing that I am.
“Yes, let me check on flights. Perhaps we can stay one night at the sanctuary and then we can come back to the beach here, in Sulawesi?” he asks.
As I walk back to my room, I ring Joe to check on everyone. My night is their morning.
“I heard from Judy, and from David,” he tells me.
“Rob is still in hiding, and Judy is scared. I told her that, perhaps, she could go to Sulawesi to assist you. But, she wants to stay near Rob.”
“That makes sense. How awful. We were hoping it would not come to this,” I say.
“Yes, and David says the military has been going through the monastery,” he says. “The military has not yet discovered the underground communication room, thankfully. But, the energy of the place is shifting. The monks are having a difficult time keeping the energy shield up.”
“That is awful. Do they have any ideas how to get the military out of there?” I ask.
“Not really,” he replies. “The volcano has not erupted, as the military decided it may. It has been only a few days, but the plants at the monastery, and the wildlife, are already shifting.”
“Shifting? How?” I ask.
“They are returning to normal size and color. With the energy shift, the monks are wondering if they will soon show their real age, or if their body’s cellular structure will hold,” he says.
Joe tells me that it is unknown which next steps they will take at the monastery.
“How is Sarah?” I ask.
“She is good but, based on everything happening, we are thinking she should come to you in a few days,” he says.
“That would be wonderful. Yes, let’s do that. I would feel better to have her here with me,” I say.
I tell him about the trip to the ancient caves, and how I am now being called to Borneo, to see the orangutans.
Waking up early, I grab some coffee before we board the canoe for another journey. I feel excited to visit the jungle that houses the orangutans.
As we drive, and take the one-hour flight, I think of what I googled about orangutans the night before. They have been around for over fifteen million years. So, they lived well before the cave drawings some 40,000 years ago.
Scientific research on the orangutans shows that, after fifteen million years of genomic slumber, they woke up 400,000 years ago and produced the Sumatra and Borneo species. And, interestingly, 97% of human DNA matches that of the orangutans.
Once at the orangutan sanctuary, I breathe in the fresh air of the jungle and follow the guide to where the orangutans are living. He tells us that the average orangutan is more diverse, genetically speaking, than the average human. It has been found that there is a deep diversity in both Bornean and Sumatran orangutans, but it’s unclear whether this level of diversity can be maintained in light of the continued widespread deforestation.
Only 50,000 Bornean and 7,000 Sumatran orangutans still survive in the wild. The deforestation of their habitat has placed their long-term survival in jeopardy.
Looking at the orangutans, I’m amazed at just how large they are. Our guide tells us that they live around thirty-five years in the wild, but up to fifty, or more, in captivity. He also tells us that the male species is the aggressor. The male orangutans fight for control of territory, and for mating rights with the females. They fight to the death, killing their fellow males.
The guide tells us that, typically, only one male orangutan in any given area, the dominant one, has cheek pads; along with an increased body size and a large, pendulous, throat sac. This one is also the one that the other orangutans obey: a king of sorts.
The female orangutans are abandoned after they birth a baby, and are left to raise the child themselves. They breastfeed for up to eight years. The separation of male and female, and the aggressive behavior of the males, is not that far removed from the structure of human society; certainly, until recently, at least.
As I’m touring the area, I wonder why the Guru was drawn to see the orangutans. Was he looking at the behavior of the species?
Kadek has arranged for us to spend a night at the sanctuary. He has left me to tour, and enjoy, the sanctuary on my own. But, come dinner, he joins me.
“Did the Guru tell you anything about his findings, or understandings, about the orangutans?” I ask.
“No, he never mentioned anything about them to me,” Kadek says. “Perhaps he just wanted to see them. Many people do come to see them, as they are rare.”
“Perhaps,” I say.
It doesn’t make sense to me that the Guru would have spent time on trivial sightseeing. It is possible; but, I think there may be something connected to the orangutans, the caves of Borneo, and this mystery group of women I have yet to see. I am just not clearly discerning the connection.
“May I join you?”
I look up from my thoughts, to see a handsome man looking down at me.
“Yes, of course,” I say.
“I’m Jim, I work here,” he says as he hands me a beer.
“I will decline the beer, thank you,” Kadek says, as Jim goes to hand him one. “I think I’ll head to bed early.”
“Okay, Kadek, I’ll see you in the morning,” I say.
“Thank you for the beer, Jim. How long have you worked here?” I ask.
“Been going on eight years,” he says.
Jim tells me of the studies on the species and how they are rehabilitated here for up to ten years, before going back to the wild. Some are never rehabilitated, especially those that were rescued from abusive situations, where they were held captive as pets, or mistreated in zoos.
He tells me about the family behaviors, and how the orangutans do remind him of the human species. We sip our beers and laugh over that.
“Do you find that the orangutans are aggressive? The guide mentioned this,” I say. “Something about the dominant male.”
“Yes, when the male orangutan reaches full sexual maturity they develop flanges, or thick cheek pads, and a laryngeal sac, which they use to make a roaring sound called a long call,” Jim explains.
“This call tells the females that they are available for mating. This call also repels other males. It is also interesting that, when they make this sound, the young males release stress hormones. This curtails the testosterone production in the younger males, and prevents them from developing the cheek pads, and of growing into a fully mature male for a while.”
“That is fascinating, especially about how the sound, or call, can actually stunt testosterone production,” I say.
“Yes, it is amazing what nature can do,” Jim says.
“Stunting aging, almost,” I say. “How does this tie into aggression, though?”
“Most of the orangutan’s aggression has to do with two males competing for a female,” Jim says. “They w
ill actually fight to the death. You will see mature males with battle scars that include missing fingers, fractures, missing eyes.”
“That sounds brutal,” I say.
“Yes, and there are smaller males, sub-adult males that are capable of copulating,” Jim says. “The females don’t invite them to mate, and mostly avoid them. Out of frustration, and to show aggression and control, the sub-adult males will force the females to copulate.”
“Human males are not that far from these behaviors. The sub-adult actually sounds like they rape the female,” I say.
“Yes. Researchers have also witnessed a male and female couple kill another female,” Jim adds.
“Interesting, and saddening,” I say.
“Also interesting is that the research has found that females are attracted to males who are aggressive toward other males,” Jim continues. “However, they know that males that are aggressive to females are dangerous. An aggressive male attacks his female mate if she doesn’t do what he wants. He can cause bruises, broken bones, and may even knock her out of the trees. It has been seen that the female orangutans take food from mature males, and watch their reactions; likely, to test if the male will be aggressive before mating with him.”
“That sounds smart on the part of the female orangutan,” I say. “It also sounds like what a lot of human women deal with in domestic violence. I heard that the females only mate every seven, or eight years,” I say.
“Yes, after they have finished breastfeeding their child, after seven or eight years, then they can have another child. It is interesting,” Jim says. “Also, aggression between females is quite rare. Typically, if that happens it has to do with a shortage of food.”
“I see. The gentler species,” I say.
Yes, the orangutans definitely do remind me of the human species, but not necessarily the enlightened part of the species.
Thanking Jim for the chat, and the beer, I make my way to my room. The jungle surrounds me, and the energy of the earth encompasses me. I feel safe here. As I lay down to sleep, I listen to the sounds of the jungle. The bugs and geckos let off a chorus that lulls me to sleep.
Mother! I am calling out to my mother who is running before me. She looks at me, and motions to be silent. She points to the hollow of a small entrance, a cave opening hidden behind some bushes, and motions for me to go hide there. Quietly, I back up and go behind the bushes as some rodents scatter away, when I enter the small opening. My hands are small, and a bit hairy. I look at them, surprised at the hair I see. It isn’t registering as me, but it is me.
Quietly, I look out and see my Mother being teleported up through a light. The beam is like a sunbeam, or a rare moon beam. But it is not a natural light and I’ve been warned of the Star-beings that take from our tribe. I want to scream. I want my mother. But, I have been trained to listen and not to scream. I must not alert the Star-beings to the cave opening. I must be strong, as my Mother told me to be.
Tears drop from my eyes and muddy the dirt floor I am laying on. I sit paralyzed in the knowing that I may never see my Mother again.
CHAPTER 10
The Priest
“Slow down, Joe, you are scaring me,” I say, as he is speaking so fast about an explosion that I cannot follow what he is saying. “I just woke up. I was having a lucid dream. Slow down please.”
“There was an explosion in Kauai at the airport,” Joe continues. “They are saying it was a terrorist attack. There was also an explosion in the airport in San Francisco and, in Dallas Fort Worth. So far, 300 people have been announced as dead, and many injured. No group has yet taken responsibility.”
“My God. That is awful,” I say.
“There is more. Sarah is flying out later today to come stay with you,” Joe says.
“Good, I’d rather have her here with me. What do you mean by more, though?” I ask.
“Have you seen the news, at all?” Joe says.
“No. I was busy at the sanctuary, yesterday and am just up now. What is going on?” I ask.
“They are labeling it as Armageddon on some news channels. But that is just bullshit marketing,” Joe says. “There have been two volcanic eruptions. Not in Kauai. But in Peru, and in the Philippines.”
“I see,” I say.
“A tsunami has hit after an earthquake off the coast of Mexico. Another has hit off the coast of Vietnam,” he adds.
“Oh my God. That is horrific,” I say.
“And, bombings have taken place in two London train stations, and one in Paris. Additionally, there was a bombing in Jerusalem. All this in under 24- hours,” Joe says.
“What do you make of it all?” I ask.
“I’m not sure; we are not sure,” he says. “Kadek, and I, are to fly back to Sulawesi, shortly,” I say. There is a local Hindu priest, from Bali, who had come to Sulawesi to meet with the Guru. I’m going to meet with him tonight, and he is going to do a fire ceremony with us. Somehow, it seems fitting to do the ceremony,” I say.
“Okay, that sounds good. Let me know how it goes,” Joe says.
“Take care of yourself, Joe. “I’m wondering if you can come stay with me here, anytime soon?” I ask.
“That would be nice. But, I need to see what is going on, and how I can best help first,” he says.
As we drive, and then fly, back to Sulawesi, I think about what Joe told me. It is tumultuous times, for sure. I’m not sure if what I’m doing here will be of any help, or not. I suppose it may.
Why is there so much unrest in the world? Are we not better than the orangutans? More civilized, or more advanced, perhaps. Yes, we have cities and guns. However, are our wars any different than the animals killing each other? We just have more to fight, and kill with. Is the earth finally giving way to our demise? Is it helping to escalate it?
Kadek touches my shoulder, bringing me out of my thoughts. The plane is landing, and, soon, I will be on a beach meeting the Hindu priest.
“Have you met the priest before?” I ask Kadek as we drive to our destination.
“I met him once before, with the Guru,” Kadek says.
“That was many years ago, then,” I say.
“Yes, it was many years ago. He stayed with the Guru, after I returned to Bali. I believe he was with him for a week. He will likely have some insights for you, Mary,” Kadek says.
The sun is setting as we approach the ocean. Parking the car, I get out and walk onto the sand. Feeling the grains beneath my feet, I hear the ocean waves lapping on the shore. I feel at home. Walking on the earth, especially at the beach, I feel at home.
“We are spending the night here,” Kadek says.
I see wooden huts, or guest homes, over to my right, and I follow Kadek with my bag. Our host joins us, and checks us into our simple rooms. He offers to bring us some vegetables, and rice. I decline, as my stomach is in knots. I’m not sure why, but I imagine it has to do with the ceremony we will be having on the beach.
As Kadek goes to eat, I sit on the porch of my hut, dangling my legs. My feet almost touch the sand; but they don’t. I feel a bit ungrounded. I feel a bit of two worlds. I breathe in, and I breathe out. Slowly, I feel more of the earth grounding me into this plane of existence, and my stomach knots loosen, though not completely.
“Mary, it is time,” Kadek says.
I jump off my roost, and follow him along the beach. I see a fire in the distance, and we walk toward it. I see the shape of a figure standing at the fire. As we get closer, I hear the priests’ chants over the waves.
My stomach knots completely disappear, as we walk up beside the priest. His energy radiates a warmth, such as I have never felt from another human. I feel at home, in an otherworldly way.
“Child, sit,” the priest says, as he looks at me.
Kadek, and I, both sit. The fire rises up from the logs: very little smoke, just flames. I watch the flames as if mesmerized by the shapes and the colors. The heat reaches out to me, almost daring me to come in. I feel as if I should walk
into the fire; be one with it.
I hear the chants of the priest: ancient, primal. They sound familiar to me. I feel a deep guttural sound coming up and out of me. I let it go, and it continues. It weaves in with the sounds the priest is making. It is as if we are chanting in unison. It is a language I have not heard before in this life; yet, instinctually, I know it.
I feel water on my face. A river runs. It is of my own making. Tears are streaming down my cheeks. I am purging. Purging things I do not understand; do not know.
“Mary,” the priest says.
I open my eyes to see him looking at me. We gaze into each other’s eyes. I feel as if we are merging. I am weightless: floating. I see the fire, and now there are many people around it.
I see women chanting, and dancing. They are trance-like, and moving, and swaying in unison. I am home.
“Mary,” Kadek says.
He is shaking me. I am sitting at the fire. It is Kadek, and I, and the priest.
“The ways of the ancient are with you, Mary,” the priest says as he appears to bow to me, and then slowly walks away.
I cannot register that he is leaving. I have questions for him that need to be asked. I feel as if I am not completely in my body. I feel that things are moving in slow motion.
Kadek looks at me and nods. He also gets up and leaves me by the fire.
I look out at the sea. The moon dances upon the water as if to let me know I am not alone. I stare at the fire, and then at the water. My sense of time is timeless. The dancing of the women: I know they are here, and I have an idea now of where they dance; where they reside.
I breathe in, and I breathe out. I feel the wet sand beneath me, and feel the cool air on my skin.
I know now that the answers lie in our beginnings; before we fell; before the ancient Starseed interventions, and attacks.
Here in Indonesia, I feel safe. My daughter is due to meet me tomorrow. The world is literally exploding around me. Yet here, on this beach, in the dark, I feel safe.
The last ember of the fire dies. The sky is magical and the light from the stars, and the moon, lead me back to my hut on the seashore. Sitting on my porch steps, I look up at the stars and ask for guidance.
