The Twelfth Insight: The Hour Of Decision Part 3

"That's right. But at least they don't seem to want to detain us. They could have done that anytime after daylight. They just want to know where we are going for some reason."

I looked Wil in the eyes. "You think it's the Doc.u.ment they're interested in?"

He nodded. "Looks that way."

For the rest of the day, we didn't talk much. I periodically felt anxious about our safety, but each time I managed to shrug it off and recover my waiting-for-Synchronicity att.i.tude. At this point, I felt there was no alternative to pursuing this Doc.u.ment, at least for a while longer. The only effect I saw on Wil was that he became hypervigilant about finding clean food.

"You getting poisoned," he said to me, "was a reminder."

Every time we stopped for gas, he'd ask for the location of organic food stores and farmer's markets, and we were able to shop at several. At each mealtime, we'd exit at a truck stop and fire up the lightweight propane cooker Wil carried in his pack. In fifteen minutes we'd have enough steamed vegetables for a great, nutritious meal. After twenty-four hours of this, I felt incredibly energized and clear thinking. I could even see with greater acuity.

By nightfall we were in Albuquerque, where we eased into an enclosed garage owned by a friend of Wil's and had the vehicle and all our belongings scanned for surveillance devices. Everything was clean. Afterward, we spent the night at a small hotel nearby, which we paid for in cash, and rose early the next morning to drive to Arizona.

At midday, we began to notice the vehicles again, and by midafternoon, we took the exit to Sedona, driving right by one of the SUVs sitting in plain sight.

"They want us to see them," Wil commented.

"Who are these people?" I asked.

"I don't know. But you can bet that sooner or later they're going to tell us."

I just shook my head and tried to focus on the red rock hills we were driving through. Entering the Sedona area was always a reminder that some places are pure power spots. If you're clear enough to sense it, driving through the little town of Oak Creek, and then up into Sedona proper, is a journey into a higher world.

It feels like pure aliveness and clarity, and as you gaze out at the spectacular hills and formations surrounding the small town, you immediately feel a change in your perception. Everything around you stands out more, and the Synchronicity literally explodes in frequency, just by virtue of being in this place.

We drove slowly along the main street leading uptown, looking around at the people on the sidewalks. There seemed to be a lot of tourists and locals, and judging from their dress and demeanor, people from out of town who weren't tourists. They looked like serious trekkers who, like us, were looking for something. For a while we cruised around uptown seeing what might happen, and for a moment, I felt as though I was about to run into someone of importance. Yet nothing occurred.

Since our food had run out, I suggested we drive west toward the sinking sun and stop at the New Frontier Grocery for a salad. When we arrived, instead of parking, Wil just let me out, telling me he wanted to go look for some Hopi friends of his who lived in the area. I went in and ordered my salad and one for Wil to go, then sat down at a table in the corner to eat.

I had almost finished when someone caught my eye at the door-it was Coleman. He hadn't indicated he was coming to Sedona when we talked at the truck stop. But here he was, walking straight over to me, like a man on a mission.

"I saw you come in," he said, pulling some loose papers out of his briefcase. "Have you seen this? It's part of the Doc.u.ment you've been talking about."

I quickly looked it over, and indeed it was the same pa.s.sages about the Second Integration I'd read earlier, but it included ten more pages I hadn't seen before.

"Where did you get this?"

He shook his head and smiled in amazement. "I hadn't been here ten minutes last night when I ran into your lady, Rachel."

"She's not my lady," I protested.

"It was just a manner of speaking. Anyway, we're staying at the same hotel. Then later, I came down to the lobby to get a cup of coffee and overheard two people talking. When I got closer, I realized they were talking about this Doc.u.ment.

"I walked up and introduced myself, and it turns out they are scientists. Do you believe that? And they were discussing the very question you posed earlier: how real scientists could study the topic of spirituality. And that's not all. They had the first and second parts of the Doc.u.ment with them and were relating it to an old Prophecy that became known years ago."

He laughed out loud. "You think my mind was blown or what? The more I talked to these guys, the more we found we had in common. We all took to one another immediately and wound up talking half the night. And guess what? Early this morning, we hiked out into the desert, and I got it! I understand that Synchronicity is real, and how to sustain it, and that we're waking up to systematically explore our spiritual nature again. They gave me a copy of the Second Integration. I wasn't surprised when I saw you again."

He was full of energy, talking ninety miles an hour about having all this Synchronicity. I chuckled. This was the typical Sedona effect that everyone talks about.

"Go ahead," he said. "Read it."

I started where I had left off with Wil's copy, finding that it continued on the same point, emphasizing the importance of Conscious Conversation for bringing in a new consensus about spiritual experience.

"Do you see what this is saying?" he interrupted. "It's not using the precise words, but my new scientist friends and I agree. It calls for applying the scientific method to our individual search for spiritual truth. Everything it says to do is what good scientists do already.

"This process has yielded all the basic laws of physical reality, from Thales to Newton to Einstein, and I see now how it can be applied to the inner experience of spirituality. For instance, consider the phenomenon of Synchronicity. Because it feels the same for everyone, we can discuss it and compare notes and reach consensus about how it works."

I was just listening, not believing I was talking to the same person. Even the basic expressions on his face were different. Instead of continuing to frown and debunk spirituality, he had experienced something he couldn't explain from his old point of view, and had snapped awake, just that quickly.

"Listen," he said. "I owe my interest in all this to you. If I hadn't said something to you at the Pub, or if you hadn't asked how Science might investigate Synchronicity and spirituality, I might never have seen the truth of it. I wasn't even intending to come to Sedona until I talked to you at the gas station."

He smiled at me, then continued. "You know, I haven't been very successful as a scientist. I couldn't keep my mouth shut. I was fired from MIT because of my opposition to commercial interests buying particular outcomes of studies. But the idea of engaging in a method of inquiry that's honest and dedicated to truth, that's what I've always been about. You've really had an influence on me."

Influence, I thought, that word again.

He nodded toward the pages I was still holding. "And this last part, it fits exactly with something I've been fascinated with for a long time, as though that part of my life was preparing me for all this."

I gave him a puzzled look.

"The Doc.u.ment speaks," he said, "of something Immanuel Kant advocated centuries ago with his idea of a categorical imperative."

I nodded. I knew a little bit about Kant. He was the father of a philosophy called phenomenology, which essentially called for thinkers to suspend their ordinary way of looking at a given phenomenon in nature in order to see it in a fresh way. In fact, I'd used his term bracketing a.s.sumptions with Coleman earlier. I'd even heard of the imperative idea-living and conducting yourself as if other people would be compelled to live and believe the exact same way as you-because, said Kant, that is the exact influence we actually have on them.

"Does the Doc.u.ment talk about all this?" I asked.

"No, not in Kant's terms," he replied. "But it's saying the same thing. Everyone has to not only be honest but tentative in their beliefs before making great proclamations, otherwise we can be pulling others in the wrong direction, just by this mysterious influence we have on them. The Doc.u.ment says that we have to come to grips with the fact that our personal reality is contagious."

He paused and looked at me. "It says each of us must first and foremost 'prove to ourselves' that our conclusions about spirituality actually work before we pa.s.s them along as truth. And because we are adding spiritual knowledge to our secular reality, we should use 'logic first' as we proceed."

He leaned closer to me and hushed his voice. "You know there are a lot of screwball ideas floating around here in Sedona."

I laughed. He was right, of course, and some of these crazy ideas were being pushed by outright charlatans, out just to make money. But, as Coleman was learning, the effect of the place itself, the hills and streams and overall beauty, was as genuine as the light of day.

"It also says," Coleman continued, "that when we feel convinced inside that our spiritual experiences are real, then we must live them fully and openly and tell everyone about them, because if there really is an influence-and I believe there is-then it helps everyone get to a higher level of experience faster."

He was suddenly on his feet. "Keep this translation," he said. "I made copies."

"Hold on," I said. "How do you think this conscious way of consensus making is going to unfold?"

"It will come together like any other scientific consensus. First, there will be ever-larger areas of agreement, as common experiences are discussed and found to be the same for everyone. Then these will coalesce into still larger principles, as with Newton's and Einstein's theories about the secular world. Eventually, we'll arrive at certain laws governing the whole thing: the basic, natural laws of spirituality."

Without saying anything else, he scribbled his cell phone number on the top page of the Doc.u.ment, gave me a wink, and bounded out the door.

When Wil picked me up, I was stretched out on a bench near a grove of fragrant junipers, enjoying the first pink streaks of sunset. As I climbed into the Cruiser, the sun sank below some thin clouds near the horizon line, turning into a red blaze that now colored the clouds with streaks of orange and dark amber.

The beauty of the moment was striking. Everything around us-the sculptured peaks of the surrounding hills, the small businesses across the street, and every cloud in the sky-was cast in a pleasant golden aura. People were stopping on the sidewalks and pulling their cars to the side of the road just to watch.

Another magical Sedona sunset, I thought as I looked over at Wil in the driver's seat. He grinned back at me, and I suggested we drive over to the Airport Vortex to watch the dramatic finale there. Wil nodded in agreement and in ten minutes we were climbing a rock formation near the vortex that was shaped like a circular pyramid. At the top, it flattened out into one crowning area of rock about forty feet in diameter.

For a long time we just watched and soaked up the energy of the light. I couldn't help thinking more about the mythology of Sedona. All around the area, many believe, are special locations that have a particular uplifting effect on people. Some are large vortexes like the one here. Half a dozen or so of these have been marked and identified.

But legend has it that not only do these major vortexes dot the Sedona landscape, but other, smaller places of power are hidden about in the surrounding ravines and mesas as well, waiting for the casual hiker who chances to sit down nearby. As the mythology goes, there is a personal vortex waiting for everyone who journeys to Sedona, a spot of our own where each of us can be lifted up into consciousness and into a greater destiny. All you have to do is hike around until you find it.

I wondered, given the life clarity Coleman was suddenly displaying, if he had already stumbled upon his.

I smiled and looked out at the horizon again. Here at the Airport Vortex the feeling is about letting go of all one's concerns and soaking up what can only be described as a supportive, healing energy, a sense of being totally content and safe. I leaned back on the rocks, feeling myself letting go to it-wanting to be nowhere else besides here, in this moment, basking in the glow.

We watched the sun sink beneath the horizon and disappear, sending out a more yellowish light, and then a pale gray. I looked over at Wil. He nodded and got up, and we started down the hill. As we walked, I told Will about seeing Coleman and reading the rest of the Second Integration.

"I met with my Hopi friends," he replied. "They showed me the rest of the Second as well."

"What do you think about this idea of building a new consensus about spirituality? Coleman said it was what he was meant to do."

Wil stopped and pulled me to the edge of the trail as a group of people heading up the slope walked past us. Several of them looked us over, as if wondering whether seeing us here was a Synchronicity. We smiled back and nodded, and they walked on.

"I think that many people know," he said, "that somehow Synchronicity is calling us together to do something historical. The world is a mess, but we can fix it if we stay alert and keep our historical context in mind. We have to stay awake and help each other stay awake."

Wil was looking at me with determination, and in that moment, I felt a full elevation into the clarity of the Second Integration. How many people out there, I wondered, have noticed the same quickening? Were we already influencing one another to wake up to Conscious Conversation and to Kant's mysterious influence? And if so, where would our consciousness go next?

"What about the Third Integration?" I asked. "Had your Hopi friends heard anything about it?"

He nodded, a big smile erupting on his face. "Yes, they knew it well, although they didn't have any copies with them. It says that when people in any culture begin to wake up and hold Conscious Conversation, they quickly find the key spiritual 'principles' built into the fabric of the Universe."

"Really?" I commented. "Coleman guessed that. He said we would discover the laws of our spiritual nature. Did your friends tell you about it?"

Wil began walking down the hill again. "Yeah. The Third says these laws have already been discovered. And in order to go forward, we only have to prove them out in our own lives and then come into 'Alignment' with them. It also says in this time period, we will have extra motivation to do just that."

"What kind of motivation?"

"We have to come into Alignment," he repeated, "because it's the only way to avoid something else: a quickening Karma."

MOVING INTO ALIGNMENT.

I woke up to Wil tapping on my hotel room door. We had driven to the Bell Rock Inn and checked in, and I had turned in before eleven, expecting an early departure but not this early. I glanced at the clock by the bed: one A.M.

"Wake up," Wil was whispering though the door as I opened it. Hurrying in, he handed me a large pack and some new clothes and boots.

"What's all this for?" I asked, still groggy.

Wil moved over to the window and looked down toward the parking lot where my Cruiser was parked.

"Take a look," he said, pointing.

I strained to see in the faint light. "What?"

"Our friends are back. There on the street behind your Cruiser."

It took a few seconds, but finally I spotted an SUV well hidden among some trees. Several men were gathered together beside it. One was on a radio, looking toward us.

"Yeah. I see them."

Wil shook his head. "Looks to me like they're about to do something. Put on the new stuff, and leave your other clothes and boots in the room. Someone may have placed a locator on us since we've been here."

"Wait a minute," I said. "It's the middle of the night. What are you thinking we should do?"

"We have to lose them again, which means we must leave your vehicle here. Don't worry. The Hopis will keep an eye on it. Rumor has it there's a group of people camped way up Boynton Canyon who have more of the Doc.u.ment. We need to get our hands on the Third and Fourth Integrations as soon as possible, and we don't want to chance being detained. We need to get deep into the wilderness."

Wil was helping me pack my new stuff and inspecting everything else I was placing in the pack. I knew the Boynton area, which was known as a sacred place and held many Native American ruins. I had tried to hike it several times but had always decided to return after only a short walk. Something about it seemed spooky.

"That's a tight canyon in places," I said. "We get up in there and we're trapped."

He gave me one of those determined looks. "There are ways out, if you know where they are."

I knew Wil well enough to know this wasn't a humorous moment. From the look on his face, he was leaving my course of action completely to me. I could come or not. And he would be perfectly fine leaving me right here.

"The Hopis consider this canyon a place of purification," he finally said. "It may be just the location to understand Alignment and Karma."

I looked at him a moment more, noting that he had mentioned Karma a second time, then said, "Okay, let's go."

We gathered the rest of our things and sneaked out the back door and across the edge of the dark parking lot into some trees. Then Wil led us through the shadows into another lot, where an old diesel Mercedes that smelled like peanut oil was waiting for us. The car was driven by a small, muscular man with long black hair. Climbing in as quietly as possible, I struggled to account for the smell. Finally, it came to me. The car was running on biofuel made from recycled commercial frying oil.

"This is Wolf," Wil said, introducing me to the driver. "He is my longtime Hopi friend."

Wolf appeared to be about fifty years of age, except for his eyes, which looked much younger and were light amber in color and very piercing, exactly like those of a real wolf. He gave me a smile and nodded.

No one talked as Wolf drove us down a few streets and then doubled back several times to check if anyone was following. We even stopped for a while, turning the car lights off, just to be sure. When everything seemed safe, we took a road that wove through a section of houses, and then entered the main road heading west out of town.

"Better get centered," Wil said, and looked away.

I knew exactly what he meant. I took a breath and reminded myself of where we were in the process. Expecting Synchronicity was now fully ingrained in me, so I focused on keeping the truth of our longer context fully in mind. Immediately, I felt more awake and alert, right on the edge of unfolding events.

After a few more miles, Wolf slowly pulled up to the Boynton Canyon trailhead. To our surprise, dozens of cars were parked all along the road. Wil and Wolf glanced at each other. As we were collecting our gear, Wil handed me a flashlight and told me to watch for rattlesnakes.

Wolf laughed and then walked closer.

"Remember," he whispered, "canyons are for purification, but mountains are for finding Vision."

I wanted to ask him what he meant, but Wil was motioning for me to follow him. As Wolf drove away, we headed into the canyon. After about a mile, I moved closer to Wil and asked, "Is there a larger mountain near here?"

Wil stopped in his tracks and turned to face me. "Why do you ask?"

"Something Wolf said."