by Sara Estey
CHAPTER 11
An Awakening
Sarah and I laugh as the jeep bumps along the road. She arrived yesterday, yet we are already traveling. We laugh because we find joy in each other’s company. My daughter and I are on the same path now. We understand the importance of finding answers, and in helping to raise the vibration of humanity. But we also find humor in the ridiculousness of it all. I was working in Silicon Valley just a few years ago, and she was at University. Now we are bumping along a road, in the jungle, on an island far away from our recent lives.
There is no time to waste in finding the Women of the Rose. The world is quite literally exploding around us. Perhaps my thinking is a bit dramatic. The world is not completely blowing up. Though the political unrest and environmental disasters seem to be expanding at an exponential rate on the globe.
The Community that we are working with is in hiding. Sarah has brought news that Rob is still in hiding, and in recovery, and that David has also gone into hiding. The monks are worried about their home, and rightfully so. The military seems to have decided to stay put at the monastery. The energy has been affected in a negative way by the military encampment, and this has affected the monks’ work.
I tell Sarah of the visions I have had of the Women of the Rose. I’m not sure why I am calling them the Women of the Rose, as I don’t know of any rose species being in this part of the world.
“The oldest rose fossil found is thirty-five million years old,” Sarah says looking at her phone.
“I don’t know how you can google on your phone, while we are bumping along this road,” I say. “But, good that you are googling this now, as I don’t know how much longer we will have the internet.”
“The rose fossil was found in Colorado though,” Sarah says.
“Yes, well. Who knows what the world would have been like here at that time. The rose is old, though, so I suppose it may make sense,” I say.
“Yes, and the fact it is a symbol of love,” Sarah says.
We had spent last night on the coast at Parepareo, some four hours north of Makassar. Kadek had come that far with us. He had introduced us to a local, by the name of Lumba, to take us up to the lakes. Lumba is of stocky build, and his English is not as good as Kadek’s. But, he knows the area and the legends.
He knows of a community of women, who the locals speak of. They came from the caves, and ascended to the stars, the legend goes. They now live in harmony, and peace. Exactly where they live is not known, though. The legend says they are protected by a great shield of light, and that only those of the mawar can see them.
I decided it was no coincidence that the Indonesian word for rose is bunga mawar.
Bumping along the road, I ask Lumba to pull over for a minute. I’m feeling a bit nauseous from the ride and need to stretch my legs.
“One more hour until the lake,” Lumba says.
I look out at the jungle, and I pray that this isn’t a wild goose chase. We are set to stay at an inn at Lake Tempe, where we can sort out our next move. As no one knows where these women live, I’m praying I receive guidance on where to find them.
As we drive into Lake Tempe we note the desolate feel of the area. It is exposed, and grassy. The lake is the largest in Sulawesi, and the water rises up and down, depending on the time of the day. Locals live in floating houses on the lake. I look around me, thinking that we can’t be anywhere near where this mysterious village of women live.
Sarah and I follow Lumba into our dank room. This is not exactly what I would call an inn. The room is sparse, but will do. We are both tired and, after some rice and tea, decide to go to sleep early.
A ringing in my ears jolts me out of bed. I look at my phone and see it is 1:11 am. Ah, the angels are with me, I think to myself. The ringing continues. I look at the bed next to mine and see that Sarah is sound asleep. I pull my robe on and walk out the front door. The air is cool, but not cold. It awakens me further, and I look up at an almost full moon. The stars are bright. The entire sky is lit up. With no powered lights, the sky is alive. It feels as if I could touch the stars.
I notice a bench just in front of our room and go to sit on it. I sit until the ringing in my ears stops, and continue to look at the beautiful night sky. A shooting star whizzes by. Ah, I think, my husband Mark is with me. He and I used to spend time together looking at the stars. When he was alive we would make wishes together on the shooting stars. It has been my sign from him, since he passed, that he is with me.
I shut my eyes for a few moments, taking in that feeling of Mark. When I open them, there is a woman dressed in white sitting next to me on the bench.
“Hello, I didn’t hear you come up,” I say.
“I’m sorry if I startled you,” she says.
“I’m Mary,” I say.
“Hello, my name is Maria,” she says.
“Oh, are you staying here as well?” I ask.
“Kind of. I came in for supplies. I leave tomorrow to my community,” she says.
“Community?” I ask.
“Yes, Mary. Would you and your daughter care to come visit my home?” she asks.
“Why, how did you know I had a daughter?” I ask.
“We know many things, love. I’ll meet you here, at nine in the morning,” she says.
“But, I’m not sure we will come with you,” I say.
“As you wish, 9 am,” Maria says, and walks off into the night.
The alarm wakes me up at 7 am. I rub my eyes, remembering my dream. Or, was it a dream? Lumba is outside waiting for us, and we all have breakfast together.
“Lumba, I met a lady last night. I think I did, though I’m not sure if I met her, or if it was a dream,” I say.
“Have you heard of a woman named Maria in these parts?” I ask.
“No, I don’t know of anyone by that name,” he says.
I tell Sarah and Lumba what I remember from the middle of the night.
“Mom, let’s get packed and see if she shows up at 9 am,” Sarah says.
We pack and wait by the bench. At 9:10 no one has arrived, and I tell them that this trip must be getting to me.
“It must have been a dream,” I say. “I think reality and fantasy are merging.”
“Good morning, Mary. I apologize for being late,” Maria says as she approaches us. Still dressed in white, she almost appears to be gliding toward us. I shake my head. Looking at her again, I see she is still, here and now, right in front of us.
“This is my daughter, Sarah, and our guide, Lumba,” I say, introducing them.
“Greetings,” Maria says, smiling at them.
“I’m afraid that Lumba cannot come with us. If you, and your daughter, would like, you are welcome to come spend a few days with us at the community. Perhaps Lumba can wait for you here?” she asks.
“Why can’t Lumba come?” I ask.
“Only women are in the community,” she replies.
Sarah and I glance at each other.
“We also don’t have internet there. So, if you need to message anyone, you may want to know this. I need to just pick up my supplies at the store and load them into my jeep. We leave in fifteen minutes?” she asks.
I quickly message Joe that we may have found the Women of the Rose, and give him our current whereabouts at the lake. I let him know I’ll be out of touch for a few days.
CHAPTER 12
Women of the Rose
We have been driving with Maria for an hour now. As we approach a mountain range, we ascend to a stone tunnel that goes through the mountain. I’ve seen such tunnels in mountains before, but never in Indonesia.
As we drive through it and out to the other side, a valley sits before us. Maria pulls over at a river as she tells us she is thirsty, and to help ourselves to some of the water from the ‘magical river’. I wonder what she means by magical, as Sarah and I follow her down a short embankment to drink from the river.
Getting back in the jeep, she tells us we are just about fifteen m
inutes from our destination. The road follows the river, which becomes a waterfall. I see a rainbow coming from the spray of the fall, and Sarah and I look on in awe. It is even more beautiful here than where we have been before: even more lovely than the monastery in Kauai.
Approaching a village, Maria slows the jeep down. We drive under a giant arch of greenery and I notice that many birds of all colors are flying around us.
“Do you rescue birds?” I ask.
“No, but they are attracted to us,” Maria says as she parks the jeep outside a small home. “Here we are.”
Sarah and I grab our bags out of the jeep, and follow her into the house. A fluffy, white dog greets us, its tail wagging; while sitting, next to him, a black cat purrs.
“This is Trish,” Maria says, pointing to the dog. “And Cassandra,” she adds, pointing to the cat.
“They are beautiful, and so friendly,” Sarah says petting the cat, as the dog licks her.
“Yes, they are,” Maria says, laughing, as a red bird flies in the door and perches on her shoulder.
“I take it you love animals?” I say.
“Yes, you will see a lot of animals here in the community,” she replies.
“Speaking of community, where is everyone?” I ask.
“Well, let me show you your rooms, and then we can go meet the rest of the tribe,” Maria says.
The rooms are inviting. The bedding is all white, as are the chairs and the wood desk in each of our rooms. Crystals hang from the windows and, when the light shines on them, rainbow colors spread about the room.
Sarah and I lay down our bags, and Maria asks if we would like a cup of tea.
“I think a cup of tea would be nice,” Sarah says as, she walks out to the balcony outside her room. I follow, and we both catch our breath.
Below us is the river, and we can see a pool just above it with a giant waterfall cascading into it. Even more astonishing, though, is the group of women dressed in white, who we see walking along the side of the river. One by one, each of the women appear to walk on top of the water to the other side of the river.
Sarah and I look at each other, and say in unison, “The monastery.”
“Monastery?” Maria asks as she walks out onto the balcony, and hands us our tea.
“Oh, we saw something like this at a monastery in Kauai,” I say.
“Ah yes, the Guru,” Maria says.
“You met the Guru from Kauai?” I ask.
“Yes. Why don’t we go sit in the garden and chat. Then we can go meet the others,” Maria says.
We follow Maria out into the garden. Admiring the various colorful flowers and trees, we sit on a wood bench and set our cups of tea on a wooden table.
“It is so peaceful and beautiful here,” Sarah says.
“It does not particularly look the same as the rest of Sulawesi, though,” I say.
“We have a different climate here,” Maria says.
“So... about the Guru?” I ask.
“Yes, he came to visit about fifteen years ago. He stayed here for a bit,” Maria says.
“How did he know to come here?” I ask.
“He had been doing some work. Are you familiar with his work?” Maria asks.
“Yes, I am. Sarah and I spent some time at his monastery in Kauai,” I say.
“Of course, you did. That explains the connection,” Maria says.
“Connection?” I ask.
“Yes, why I was drawn to go to town, and meet you, and invite you here,” Maria says. “The last time I went to town was five years ago.”
Sarah and I glance at each other.
“So, you don’t usually go into town?” I ask.
“No, we produce everything we need here,” Maria says. “What we don’t, we are able to access in other ways. However, occasionally, one of us is called to go to town. So was the case, just now, with me.”
“I see. What did the Guru do with you and the others when he was here?” I ask.
“Oh, he spent time with us, seeing what we did, how we lived,” Maria says. “He told us about the monastery in Kauai and how in many ways it was similar to our community. He was to come back, but when he did, it was only in spirit form.
“We can discuss more, but for now, let’s go meet the rest of the women.”
We take the last sips of our tea and get up to follow her. She leads us out through the garden of the home. A canopy of bougainvillea flowers makes a covering over the path that we walk under, and through. We follow her down the pathway and under the foliage. After a few minutes walking, we come out to a grassy knoll and see stone steps leading down the embankment to the river.
Maria leads the way down the hill, and Sarah and I follow. I’m in awe of all the vegetation. The flowers and trees are more vibrant and larger than usual, much like what we had seen at the monastery.
As we are almost at the riverfront, a beautiful butterfly the size of a small bird hovers in front of me. It appears to be gazing at me. Its wings are a vibrant purple, with a dash of yellow. It suddenly flies off to my right and, as I turn to look at it fly away, I stumble and fall down the embankment.
As I go to stand, I realize that my right foot is not only painful, but it is hard for me to get up. Maria and Sarah run over to me, and help me stand. My ankle feels as if I’ve twisted it, and it is hard to stay upright.
“Oh dear, I think I’ve sprained my ankle. How clumsy of me,” I say.
“Just hold still, Mary,” Maria says.
Maria puts her hands on my ankle, shuts her eyes, and then takes her hands off of my ankle.
“Oh my, my ankle and foot no longer hurt,” I say.
“Good, shall we carry on then?” Maria asks.
As I follow her and Sarah along the river, I think how amazing it is that she healed me so quickly. Whatever she did was more powerful than Reiki energy healing. It was instantaneous.
“So, here we are.”
Maria brings me out of my thoughts as I see a beautiful, outdoor bamboo structure in front of us.
Women are milling about, in and around, the structure. They come over to meet us, and also to serve us lunch. I’m hungry and sit down at a table, with Sarah and some of the other women to eat.
Sitting down feels good. I touch my ankle, and my foot, just to make sure that it really does not hurt. And it doesn’t.
“Mary, here is some fruit juice,” Maria says, as she hands me a glass.
“Thank you. How were you able to heal my ankle so quickly?” I ask.
I hear a small bell being rung, and look in that direction.
A beautiful young woman with flowing black hair and dark skin says, “We welcome Mary and Sarah to the circle of light.”
“Here, here,” everyone says in unison, raising their glasses in a toast to our arrival.
“Mom, let me play.”
A small boy walks up and tugs on Maria’s dress.
“Can I go back in the water with the others?” he insists.
“This is Brandon,” Maria says.
I look in wonder, as I see the handsome young boy, with tousled blond curls. He looks to be about five, or six. Three girls, who look to be slightly older, walk behind him.
“I’m not hungry, Mom. We want to swim,” Brandon says.
“Manners, love,” Maria says. “Please say hello to Mary, and her daughter Sarah.”
“Hello,” Brandon says, looking at us shyly.
“Have some lunch and then, yes, you can swim,” Maria says.
As the children go to another table to eat, I look at Maria inquisitively.
“Yes, we do have children. The community has forty-four women and eleven children now. We are a small group,” Maria says. “Now, enjoy this beautiful lunch, and then we can swim as well, if you would like.”
Sarah and I meet most of the women as we eat. The vegetarian meal is delicious. Full of fresh, broiled vegetables and couscous, with salad and fresh- baked bread. The women are friendly, and loving, in their ways. They ask
us how our trip was, and how long we are able to stay with them.
“We are to head back into town in a few days,” I say. “Our guide will be waiting for us.”
“Yes, of course, a few days then,” Maria and the others say.
After lunch, we go grab our swimsuits from the house, and follow Linda, a brown-haired, brown-eyed, fair skinned, woman down to the swimming hole.
As I arrive, I notice that most of the women have decided to join the children in the water. Everyone is laughing and splashing around.
As we take off our sarongs and get ready to jump into the water in our swimsuits, I look at Sarah and ask, “Do you notice anything?”
It is as if every race is represented in this community. Dark, and light skin; blue, and brown eyes. A race that is truly diverse is splashing about in a giant pool of water. They laugh, and have fun, as they welcome us into their play time.
Swimming, and splashing, I feel like a child, myself. There is a rope swing that you can swing on, and jump into the water. I scale the embankment, and walk through a muddy trail to wait in line for my turn. Sarah is laughing at me as I swing out over the water and plunge into the depths. Swimming to the bottom of the river, and back up to the top, I feel exhilarated.
The waters we are playing in feel to me as if they have healing properties in them. I feel energized and youthful. Brandon wants me to join in the pool tag game of ‘Marco Polo’, and I do. I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun.
As the sun starts to set, we get out of the water, and dry off. Linda walks with us back to the house and lets us know that dinner will be served, shortly, in the same place we had lunch.
After showering, and getting dressed, I wait for Sarah on her balcony. It is almost dark and the stars are starting to fill the sky. As we leave the house, and walk down for dinner, we are joined by others in the community who are also walking to dinner.
Smiling, and chatting quietly, the women welcome us to their home. Lights have come on along the footpath. Solar lighting appears to be in the dining hall, as well. Candles are also lit on the tables.