One Great Year

by Tamara Veitch

  Through the Dark Ages a linear approach to sociology was embraced, denying the idea that our ancient ancestors had more knowledge than we do. Further, with the advent of Darwinism, the popular belief became absolute: mankind must progress in one direction, from primitive to modern.

  There is another more accurate truth: civilization is circular. One Great Year of approximately twenty-six thousand years marks the rise and fall of civilizations as they move through one entire precession of the equinox.

  The Golden Age is the longest of the Ages and is a time when civilization and humanity are at their height of purity, Oneness, and innovation. This is a peaceful time during which human consciousness is at its peak, manifested through levitation, telepathy, and the complete understanding of God.

  Leading in and out of a Golden Age are a Silver Age, a Bronze Age, and then the shortest, the Iron or Dark Age. Based on this notion, I think it is a Dark Age from which we are now emerging. Has the Bronze Age already begun?

  In the book Hamlet’s Mill,32 the authors identify at least thirty separate civilizations with early references to the Great Year cycle. One example is the ancient Vedic text that described the “yugas”: a four-seasoned, twenty-four-thousand-year cycle.

  All indications seem to point to a cyclical rise and fall of mankind … but why?

  If a divine cycle known as the Great Year exists … why does it exist?

  Is it random? Chaos? Lessons? Choice? Experience? Enlightenment? Through these highs and lows do we become something … more?

  One must wonder; can the cycle be altered? Can the wheel get stuck in a particular Age?

  When we admit ancient civilizations existed, we can learn from them and new questions arise. Without questions there can be no answers.

  Wisdom, knowledge, and enlightenment cannot enter a closed mind.

  Ping! The blog comments started coming in.

  Twenty minutes passed, then an hour. Quinn could have gone out, over to the pub, to a movie, to the gym, he could have hooked up online like others were doing, but he preferred to stay home. He slipped out of his jeans into sweats, rolled a joint, and cracked a beer while he interacted in cyberspace.

  He sat at his computer late into the night, blogging and scouring the Internet for evidence of the next great Age. The clues were readily available to anyone. Had the enlightenment begun? Would the lands be tossed and crumpled like too many blankets? Quinn didn’t know, but regardless, the Iron Age must be ending. Mankind must have begun the ascension toward a new Bronze Age, on its way to a better time. Was there any other option?

  Quinn marveled that he hadn’t thought to ask the Elders more about the precession of the Great Year when he had had the chance. He knew that no one could have answered his questions anyway—free will made them impossible to answer. He struggled to remember how the Elders had behaved in the end in Atitala when the Golden Age had crumbled and the descent had begun. Was a biblical Armageddon imminent? Was the shift out of the Darkness guaranteed? Would devastation be the catalyst, or the awakening that had to occur before humanity ascended to the next Golden Age? Was the upswing certain, or could the Darkness prevent it? Could one side defeat the other in the cosmic tug of war between Dark and Light, or was there always balance? These were Quinn’s unspoken questions.

  Quinn didn’t have the answers, but he watched diligently. His inner voice told him he needed to be sober and straight to hear more. He ignored the voice, tired and sore from the mountain of memories that he carried. He found relief from loneliness under his foggy mental blanket.

  The Emissary kept one eye on his blog responses, but they seemed to argue more about the length of the Great Year than to answer why it happened. The opinion was split exactly fifty-fifty as to whether or not an Age could be forestalled. Finally Anderson88 made a brief appearance and it got more interesting.

  Savetibet911: A cycle has to be able to stall. Free will must allow for anything, and where is the lesson in a cycle if there is no changing it?

  Anderson88: Perhaps the cycle continues but our souls proceed differently through them or through higher level dimensions cycles as we ascend. Maybe it’s not the same experience for everybody at the same time. Maybe it’s like a ladder, or more like a group of inter-locking circles … we pass from one to the other as we climb up.

  Hansonrocks: A combination of string theory, the Great Year, and Buddhism! I love it! What if the cycle can also be reversed … turned in the opposite direction?

  Across town, things were as they were meant to be. Nate was at the home of a fellow movie buff for the screening of a quirky art film. Nate’s passion was filmmaking, and as a director of photography (DOP), jobs were scarce in the current economy.

  Nate had met Eden when he first arrived at the screening. She was a vivacious documentary filmmaker who was searching for a DOP for her current project. They had immediate chemistry and made a date to meet the following evening to discuss a possible partnership just before she had to rush away. The fated meeting marked the beginning of an adventure and the end of an Age.

  CHAPTER 28

  THE CRYSTAL CHILDREN

  Quinn had fallen asleep about three a.m. with a comfortable beer–and–BC Bud buzz. When he opened his bleary eyes for the first time at ten o’clock the next morning, a mountain of neglected computer repairs was beckoning. There were customers waiting, and he was anxious to meet his promised delivery dates and get their units back to them.

  Quinn rolled out of bed, mindful of last night’s blogging and news. He had enjoyed some interesting chats, some great feedback, and some especially sharp reader input, and he was happy. The numbers were growing daily; he was reaching people one keystroke at a time.

  Freshly showered, his second cup of coffee in hand, Quinn was ready to do some work that paid. He was dressed in a plain white T-shirt and loose-fitting jeans and was just beginning when there was a knock at the door. He looked through the peephole at Nate, who bounced excitedly from foot to foot. He looked nothing like the guard at Stone-at-Center or like Amnut, but the colorful aura and familiarity around him were undeniable.

  “You won’t believe what happened to me last night. It was over the top!” Nate began, before Quinn could close the door against the drizzle. Nate stripped off his soaked coat and threw it carelessly over the back of the sofa.

  Quinn smiled, moving the garment to an overflowing hook by the door.

  “Is that new?” Nate asked, noticing the large, multicolored silk tapestry of a square with a circle inside hanging on Quinn’s wall.

  “Nope, it’s always been there. It’s called a mandala.”

  “Mandela? I love that guy.”

  “No, not Nelson Mandela, mandala. It’s the Sanskrit word for ‘circle.’ It’s my life story,” Quinn said.

  “Hmm, never noticed it … anyway … I met the most amazing woman, her name is Eden, like paradise, ya know? And not only is she totally hot but she’s a filmmaker! She’s a writer and director and she needs me for camera! She wants to collaborate, and … get this … she’s totally into me. We just, like, clicked … totally clicked … and I know that sounds like a line, but it’s … well you can see what it’s done to me!” Nate couldn’t stand still. He strode back and forth in front of the door, oblivious to the wet splatters his black boots sprayed across the floor.

  “I’m happy for you man, brilliant,” Quinn said sincerely as he took a seat at his desk and had a slurp of hot coffee. He always saw young Amnut so clearly in Nate.

  “I’m seeing her tonight. We’re going to meet to talk about her project. I need to have a sample of my clips for her, you know, I think it’s pretty much a formality, we just …”

  “Clicked,” Quinn finished.

  “Yeah, I said that. I know I sound like a teenager … I feel like a teenager,” he said from the kitchen, grinning, where he was helping himself to coffee with plenty of milk and sugar.

  “You practically are a teenager. I hope you can still get this excited when you’r
e old like me,” Quinn teased.

  “Naw, man, when I’m your age I won’t be single,” Nate said, not realizing the slight until the words were out. “Um, well no, I mean … I hope I won’t, umm, that’s not …” the younger man stammered, wishing to ease the offense. Quinn chuckled, and Nate was relieved.

  “No worries, I know what you meant. Whaddya know about her?” Quinn asked.

  “She’s beautiful, thirty-five …”

  “An older woman,” Quinn interjected.

  “Only six years,” Nate said defensively. “The documentary is about special Crystal kids. Have you heard of them?” Nate continued.

  “Yeah, some … but go on,” Quinn said, his interest piqued.

  “Well basically there are all these kids being born within the last twenty years or so, and they’re, like, touched by God or something. She says they are vibrating on a higher frequency, and there’s some evidence that they have an evolved genetic makeup or something. They have, like, a higher consciousness, psychic shit like future telling, mind reading, talking about stuff from other countries and other times that a little kid couldn’t know about … obviously, I don’t have all the info.”

  “Do you think there is some truth to these Crystal Children? It’s pretty controversial.”

  “She does … and I dunno … it seems pretty farfetched to me, but it’s a project …” Nate paused.

  “And you like her.”

  “Yeah, I really do. Whaddya think about this, you’re into all this kinda airyfairy shit?”

  “Thanks,” Quinn said, shaking his head with a smirk. “Well, I actually think you might be on the verge of doing something important. I’ve read quite a lot about these kids. They’re called different names, sometimes indigo or rainbow. There are websites and they are all over YouTube. You should check it all out before you see her tonight … don’t go in cold.”

  “Yeah, I will, I know, I really want to blow her away. I am so sure this is going to be huge for me.”

  “How do you know she has what it takes movie-wise? What’s she done?” Quinn asked, and for the first time Nate looked uncertain.

  “Well, to be honest, up until now she was a special-ed teacher in an elementary school. Before university she worked in the film industry as a production assistant and she just fell in love with the business.”

  “Well, that’s a pretty big leap, isn’t it? How do you put that much faith in a totally unproven writer and director? And where does the budget come from?” Quinn asked, sounding like a protective father.

  “Not sure, I think she’s a single mom, so I don’t think there’s a whole lot of money actually, but she totally talked about hiring a DOP last night, so I guess I will have to figure out how to ask that without sounding like I am only in it for the bucks … but as far as her ability, wait until you meet this girl, she’s just … got it.”

  “I can’t wait. What are you planning to tell Sarah?” Quinn asked, referring to Nate’s girlfriend and housemate.

  “I already told her … this morning. We’re done … and that kinda leads me to my next question …” Nate said, pausing.

  Quinn raised his eyebrows and waited for what he knew was coming.

  “Can I crash here for a while?”

  “You left your girlfriend of four years for a girl you met last night?” Quinn said incredulously, though he had suspected for a while that Nate was unhappy in the relationship.

  “We’ve been done for a long time, I just didn’t wanna pull the plug,” Nate said, hanging his head.

  “Yeah … of course, you’re welcome here, get your stuff … and hey,” he added as an afterthought, noticing the chaos of his kitchen counter once more. “I’m putting you in charge of recycling ’cause there’s not room here for all of us. Either you, me, or that mountain of shit has to go!”

  “Small price to pay, man, thanks. It won’t be for too long,” Nate replied.

  “No worries. I can’t wait to meet your Eden,” Quinn said, as he settled in to the pile of work behind him, happy to have Nate’s company to look forward to.

  “My Eden, hmm,” Nate mused, as he carried boxes of cardboard and beer bottles out to his car and retrieved a duffle bag of clothes.

  Seven hours and six phone calls from the crying ex-girlfriend later, most of Quinn’s apartment was filled with steam from Nate’s shower. Quinn didn’t mind—he had significantly reduced his pile of work to be done, and two customers had picked up and paid for their computers that day. He took a self-satisfied puff on a small joint and offered it to Nate, who refused with a frantic wave.

  “You might want to have a pull just to calm your nerves a bit, buddy, you’re pretty wired,” Quinn said.

  “I want to be sharp tonight. I don’t want to miss half of what she says because I’m stuck in some stoner zone-out.”

  Ouch. Nate’s guileless honesty once again hit a nerve, and Quinn was made conscious of his fuzzy state of mind. Nate was too distracted to notice and smoothed his hands down his shiny black shirt and black pants. He checked his equally shiny, spiked-and-angled hair in the mirror by the door as he left.

  “Good luck!” Quinn called out, hoping for his friend’s sake that he wouldn’t see him again until at least noon the next day.

  Quinn was typing frantically an hour later when he heard Nate’s key in the door. Not good. This was not good. A one-hour turnaround on the date of a lifetime did not bode well.

  “Hey, man, what’s up?” Quinn asked, as a surprisingly cheerful Nate rushed in.

  “Oh, man, I am so glad you don’t have a date tonight,” Nate started.

  “Nice. Rub it in, why don’t ya?” Quinn said, shaking his head. Nate’s candor was truly a test of Quinn’s ability to shed his ego.

  “No, oh sorry. I … have kind of a big favor, well, I sorta made a promise actually, but just say no if it’s too much.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I have Eden’s laptop, she’s out in the car. She didn’t want to put you on the spot, so just say no if you want … well she’s having trouble with it and it’s, like, totally her lifeline. She can’t function without it. All her work stuff’s on it and everything, and I told her that you’re the best at this … I said maybe you could look at it tonight and we could pick it up in a few hours?”

  “I can’t promise, I don’t know what’s wrong with it, but I’ll take a look,” Quinn said, inwardly disappointed that the flow he had just found in his writing was going to be lost.

  “Thanks, man. You’re the best,” Nate said, happy to have good news to take back to his date.

  “Give me three or four hours—after that I’ll be in bed, so I’ll leave it on the table by the door. Hey, how’s it going?”

  “I’m in love, man,” Nate grinned, opening the door.

  “Cool,” Quinn said, and he opened the notebook, wanting to finish as soon as possible and get back to his blog.

  CHAPTER 29

  EDEN FOUND

  Quinn’s slight irritation with Nate for hijacking his evening dissipated quickly. Eden’s computer was a simple fix: some new security software and cleaning up spyware and a nasty virus. But within minutes of beginning the job, Quinn had begun to feel physically ill. Eden was his notable blog devotee, Anderson88! The coincidence seemed too great. Quinn had a clear profile of who she was. He knew her income, bank, address, and employer. He knew that her son was eleven-year-old Elijah James and that he was a bit of a handful. He knew how she spent her money, who she emailed, and how often.

  Quinn couldn’t stop reading and snooping, and he felt guilty and exhilarated all at once. He knew he shouldn’t read her private messages, her Facebook entries, or even her datebook noting her menstrual cycle. He knew everything about her and his Marcus-brain was vibrating with excitement.

  He had assumed Anderson88 was a guy and, though he had begun the blog to reach out to people, connect with other Emissaries, and possibly find Theron, he hadn’t given any one contributor much thought. He had intentionally u
sed the name “The Emissary” to spark a response. He couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t hoped. And now Eden, the beautiful blue-eyed brunette that smiled at him from the photos stored on her hard drive and from her Facebook page, was on a date with Nate.

  “We clicked,” he had said.

  “Like old friends,” Quinn guessed, and his stomach flipped with the possibility that she might be his Theron. Her responses to his blog hinted that she was. Her passion and topic as a filmmaker and her chance meeting with Nate all indicated she could be a part of Marcus’s soul group, the key to his soul. Theron! She could be Theron! Though he searched desperately to confirm it, he knew he had to see her in person to verify his suspicion. His intuition was hammering at him. He could hardly wait to meet her face to face and know for certain.

  It had been just under three hours, and Quinn was startled by the sound of Nate’s easy laughter as he jingled his key in the door. Quinn exited the photo gallery he had been scrutinizing and clicked off Eden’s laptop.

  “Hey, just finished, good …” Quinn began, but he was struck silent by Theron’s powerful karmic energy as it flowed into the room.

  The petite beauty stepped out from behind Nate, and she was almost completely obscured by the light and color that Quinn saw surrounding her. Eden’s purple aura glowed, and Marcus was ecstatic as it reached out to him. Their energies intermingled like grains of sand in a powerful tide, and Quinn was overwhelmed and unable to speak.

  Eden smiled broadly at Quinn, oblivious to what he was experiencing, and reached out a hand that jingled with her many bracelets as she moved. Somehow Quinn found the ability to use his legs, though he didn’t remember walking across the room, and he held her hand in his.

  “Eden, Max Quinn … hey … are you crying, dude?” Nate asked incredulously.

  Until that moment, Quinn hadn’t realized he was. “No, no, it’s just my eyes from working all night,” he explained, reluctantly releasing her fingers and wiping away a tear. He had been electrified by Eden’s touch and its warm, familiar vibration. He turned his back to her, momentarily overcome, and struggled to pull himself together.