The Hopi legend of the Two Paths

The first day I was in Hopi Land this year, my dear friend and I happened upon a flat mesa overlooking the road that connects the three mesas. We assumed we were standing on Second Mesa, so we set up camp near a cement picnic table. Then we took a walk, following Minnah. She led us to a rock we’d heard about but never expected to run into so easily.

This is Prophecy Rock, on which is detailed the future of mankind as told to Hopi Elders. The story goes that there are two paths the Hopi may take, one, the lower one, is the narrow but satisfying life of following Great Spirit. The other path is the one of the White Man’s technology. The picture recognizes that many will be swayed by that reality.

That prophecy is many times interpreted as a physical choice between the material and the natural – follow the White Man’s path or the path of the Hopi people. I wonder, though. What if the prophecy is more about the inner spirit of mankind and the constant battle with ourselves?

I’ve been thinking about this lately, about the two parts of me, especially.

Looking back over the last two years, I am faced with a truth. I feel like I was two people. One was the schoolteacher and fierce mama-bear for my two boys in this material reality. The second me was the writer who, in writing what was supposed to be my No. 1 Bestseller, stumbled upon a spiritual world of wonderment, peace, and connection with Source.

I hadn’t planned that story. I stumbled upon it one summer in Arizona in 2009, when I allowed the characters I had imagined create their own story. (Sounds weird, but many writers will tell you their characters dictate the direction of the story!)

After a few drafts of that story, and subsequent sequels that burned in me, I came to a HUGE realization. I was tapping into some higher realm in my writing trances. I was talking to something higher than this human body. My mind would take these downloads that I’d get and interpret them from the eyes of my characters.

Then I stepped back and took another look at what I’d been writing. There were lessons there and, when I looked at those lessons from my personal point of view (not my character’s), the lesson was LOUD, although not yet CLEAR.

That first story, about Meg and Kalen’s search for the final crystal, was about my own need to align myself to my own chakra points. Each crystal on their journey, was another chakra point on my own spiritual quest. I burned to learn Reiki, and, in learning that ancient technique, I connected more strongly with myself.

…. But I digress.

What I’ve been thinking about is the change I’ve gone through. Although I still love my boys and would fight for them if they needed me to, I am more than the schoolteacher. I am more than the writer who spoke to Spirit. I am more than this human existence.

And so are we all.

As I struggled with these two parts of me, one started to rebel. There was something in the two parts of me that wasn’t working for my soul, so I closed doors and walked away from the part of me that didn’t work for that part of me that burned in my soul.

I look back now and feel sadness for that part of me, but she wasn’t on the True Path, as the Hopi legend details. She was on the White Man’s Path of materialism. I had to look just right, I had to have the right electronics and clothes and beliefs. I wasn’t a bad person. I just felt empty inside. I couldn’t figure out what was missing.

Now I know.

I wasn’t listening to my heart, through which I think Spirit communicates. That part of me was telling me to step out of my reality. I wanted to help people. I wanted to learn more about myself. I wanted to follow the path of servant to others.

I now realize even that was wrong. The true path is the path of service to God and self. (Because by serving God, I allow that guidance to lead me to invariable service to others as God dictates.)

My point.

I’ve been through some tough lessons lately. I think the reason they have been tough is because I fought it for so long. If only I had followed that guidance in my heart more honestly so many years ago, what then? What if I hadn’t fought tooth and nail to retain my material self as my spiritual self grew?

My actions would not have seemed so drastic and sudden.

Like a cat left to wander a bird sanctuary unabated, I tried to make my two realities live in the human harmonics.

Spirit cannot live in the human reality unless its guidance is allowed to flower.

If I have any words of advice, my friends, it is this. When a passion burns in your heart … not in your head or your loins or your veins. When that passion does not desire the destruction of anyone and does not seek to covet the gifts of others. When that fire that burns in your heart is transparent and true. The best thing you can do is acknowledge it and give it the proper attention it requires.

The danger here, of course, is the need to study yourself and your motives. Until you can truly do that, you will be unable to move on.

Much love to you,

The Dragonfly’s Student


I’m not crazy. I’m HAPPY!

“Then said Jesus unto his disciples, If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me.” Matthew 16:24.

This morning, Facebook reminded me about this blog post from last year. A year later, it still rings true. Things have changed, but the essence is the same. I am still following the directions of the The Creator and the one, true Christ. But sadness is bound to enter the life of someone who tempts fate by claiming true happiness. The challenge is seeing past the tears to rediscover the reason. I do that every day, and I’m still motivated. Please enjoy my memory.

The Dragonfly’s Student

The Dragonfly's Student

I grew up the eldest daughter in an upper middle-class Cuban-American family. … I pause a little as I write the words upper middle-class because I wonder if my family would see it that way, but I will not change what I believe. Especially not now.

During this road trip, I am continuing the essence of this summer’s quest. I continue to learn more about myself. Leading the list of lessons I have learned: I had a very privileged childhood.

I’m not complaining, don’t get me wrong. I am very grateful to my parents for allowing me to have such a safe and secure existence. That part of my life allowed me to grow into someone who is willing to analyze my life and grow from my experiences.

As the daughter of open-minded immigrants, the lessons I learned growing up included:

  • We are all equal, no matter what other…

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What’s that in the sky?

As a child, I would find stories in the clouds. A My Little Pony, an ice cream cone, a puppy. It was a fun way to get my imagination going, to say the least.

I grew up and stopped looking to the skies then. My life came inside, into a school or an office or a home, and I stopped looking for those stories. I’ve never stopped seeing the magic of the skies, though.

Then, a couple of years ago, I learned about Sylphs, a different kind of cloud. Instead of the puffy, cotton-ball kinds I remember from the 70s and 80s, these clouds are soft and wispy. I took a picture of one over Tucson this summer. I think it looks like a dove.

What are Sylphs?

Wiki says a Sylph “(also called sylphid) is a mythological spirit of the air. The term originates in the 16th century works of Paracelsus, who describes sylphs as invisible beings of the air, his elementals of air.”

Elementals are coined from the same work as Sylphs. They are mythical creatures attached to an element of the Earth. They are Gnomes and Fairies. Helper spirits. So, okay, they’re not what you learn in textbook science classes. The scientific explanation for what I consider Sylphs is that they are simply cloud formations. Nothing different than just clouds that got pushed together or molded into one. Let me tell you, Sylphs make my cloud stories so much more lively now!

Dove in the clouds.

What are Chemtrails?

According to Wiki, again, chemtriails are so named because of a conspiracy theory tied to contrails left by airplanes. “According to the chemtrail conspiracy theory, long-lasting trails left in the sky by high-flying aircraft are chemical or biological agents deliberately sprayed for sinister purposes undisclosed to the general public.”

Most people shrug off the idea of a checkerboard sky as just something that happens. But theses things never disturbed my childhood sky-watching. There were never stories in boxes.

Above all, Chemtrails are annoying. What the heck are they doing? Toilet-dumping? They didn’t exist when I was a child. I never had grid lines interrupting the picture-stories I watched, but I never jumped on the chemtrails bandwagon. Lately, though, I’ve noticed the chemtrails have been overpowering the skies. I can’t ignore them anymore.

One day last fall, I watched the skies over my Mom’s house in Miami as a Chemtrail floated toward the space directly over me. I considered going inside to avoid the possible fallout, then I noticed a few Sylphs seemingly speeding on an intercept course. Within the hour, the Chemtrail had been pushed away from my location. I could stay out longer!

Since then, I’ve asked Sylphs to help keep the trails away from me, and I watch as they do my bidding.

Now, I typically am not a conspiracy theorist, but something happened yesterday, Sept. 2, 2015, that made me a believer in the effects of Chemtrails.

After weeks in the mountains of Colorado where I saw not one Chemtrail and very few Sylphs, I returned to Arizona and was met with an amazing vision. In the distance, a majestic storm cloud grew. I watched two trails as one dropped into the cloud and another seemed to be on an intercept course. Nothing more happened there for a while until we drove under the cloud and watched dark gray columns reaching from the cloud overhead to the ground. Not one column, or two. There were at least a dozen. As we neared one column, I thought maybe the grayness of the column was rain, but there was no rain with this column, just a pickup of wind action.

That night we reached Tuba City and watched the magnificent colors and patterns left by the setting sun, and the grid-like Chemtrails seeming to originate and fan out from one spot in the East.

The next day, I woke with a migraine. We meant to drive to the Lake Mead area, but we got a bad start and had to retrace our steps. There were two ways to get there from where we were, not three, like we thought. One would take us North to Utah and would be a five-hour trip. The other, through the center of Arizona, would take a little over three hours. That’s the route we finally took.

As we drove, I watched the skies. From the very beginning of the day, chemtrails had been painting the sky in the same grid-like pattern, as if they were meant to cover the Earth’s grid.

As the day got longer, my headache became unmanageable. An anger built within the vehicle. I’ve always been very sensitive to feelings of anger. For me, it feels like an electric blanket set on stun. That day, I was motivated to get out of Arizona and out of this Chemtrails assault, but the trails followed into Nevada, where I watched them build at night as the silver light of the moon reflected off one particular trail over the rocky mountains of Lake Mead Recreation Area, making the Chemtrail look like a telephone wire.

Why Lake Mead? In my travels, I have seen less Chemtrail action over some areas, like Cortez, Colorado, and more over others, then this paint job over Arizona’s Hopi and Navajo deserts.

I don’t know the reason for these trails or the chemical compounds. For that, others are more diligent than I. See,

I wonder if the chemtrails are affecting us in more ways than the physical. I wonder if they’re affecting our moods and our perspectives, maybe even changing our personalities.

I don’t know, actually. I’m just thinking and researching. Let me know what you think, my friends.


The Dragonfly’s Student