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The Meaning of It All
from the August 2007 Star Beacon
visit to the light workers
Ann Ulrich Miller
In July, I flew to
Colorado to attend my oldest sonís wedding. He got married on July 7, 2007
(7-7-7) in Conejos Canyon, west of Antonito in southern Colorado. Ryan and
Trish chose that ďday of days,Ē reportedly the most popular wedding date in
history, and not by accident. The number ď7Ē has significance in my sonís life
(he was born on Oct. 7, and he weighed 7 lbs. 7 oz. and was 21 inches long at
I flew into Colorado
Springs on July 2 and rented a car to use during my week in the mountains.
What a glorious feeling it was to be back in the mountains. I spent my first
night in Alamosa, where I met the brideís family and spent some time with Ryan
and Trish. The San Luis Valley holds memories for me, as does the North Fork
Valley, which is where I headed Tuesday morning.
I arrived in Paonia
around noon, and met some friends from High Country News for lunch at the
Flying Fork Cafť. It was 100 degrees that day, but a welcome change from the
oppressive humidity of the East, which makes you sweat. I stopped in at the
book store to see Stephanie, who carries The Star Beacon, and arranged for a
table massage with Cindy for the next afternoon.
Next stop was a surprise
visit to Marcy Beckwith (Sanni Ceto), who was indeed shocked to have me appear
at her door. We visited for about half an hour, and she showed me the colorful
crop circle drawings she had done, and asked me if Iíd be interested in
running a monthly interpretation of each circle in the Beacon. How could I say
no? They are fantastic depictions of crop circles. So, this month begins the
first of the monthly crop circle series (see page 16).
I then checked into my
motel and drove to my favorite health food store outside Hotchkiss, where I
bought some longed-for items we canít seem to find in Ohio or West Virginia.
Being in the North Fork was just as though Iíd never left it. It still felt
Wednesday was the 4th
of July, and Paonia was celebrating its annual Cherry Days with a parade on
Grand Avenue and events in the town park. Still being used to Eastern time, I
was up at 4:45 a.m., believing it was daylight. I decided to go for a drive at
7 am. It was a beautiful, sunny morning.
I drove up Stucker Mesa
to our old place. I wanted to see it, and find out if anyone was living there,
and what changes had been made. It felt strange going there. The first thing I
discovered was that new tenants were living in the mobile home. I circled
around the big house slowly, so I could get a quick look, and then left,
because I felt like I was intruding. The new owner hadnít mowed. Dried weeds
and vegetation grew up everywhere, close to the outbuildings and house... a
very dangerous situation, in my opinion, especially with the high fire danger
in the West.
The house looked forlorn
and empty. I could see that the new owner had been working on the rooms off
the garage, because a ladder with paint cans stood outside the open door. But
nobody was living there. I looked around one last time and sadly drove away.
This had been my home since 2000, and we had inhabited the mobile home prior
to that. Weíd moved it up onto Julian Joyceís land in May 1994, two months
before the Wake Fire burned the nearby mesa and destroyed three homes.
A lot of happy memories
enveloped me, but I had to let them go. I couldnít hold onto this place any
longer. With this brief visit, I was able to finalize in my mind that ďAnnie
doesnít live here any more...Ē and I let it go.
I left Paonia and drove
up Stevens Gulch Road into the Gunnison National Forest, another memorable
spot for me. Ethan and I spent many years visiting the mountains and camping
there. I drove about 26 miles up to Electric Mountain Lodge, which is the
location of Rainbow Majesty, the novel I am writing now, only Iíve changed the
name and embellished a bit on the lodge itself. Itís a mystery, a modern-day
gothic about light workers.
The lodge has been
rebuilt. Two years ago, a propane explosion killed three children, and the
lodge burned to the ground. It was a tragedy that made national (and
international) news. I was glad to see that the owners had rebuilt, even
though the lodge is now smaller. They have a big dining room and bar
downstairs, and I stopped in, signed the guestbook in the lobby, and had toast
and coffee. Nancy, the owner, came over and talked to me, and I learned they
are building cabins for people to stay in outside the lodge.
I left, feeling
rejuvenated and inspired, and returned to Paonia to take in the parade, the
park, and then my massage.
Wednesday evening I
enjoyed my visit with a light worker friend, Norma Jean Foust, who had
actually been a house guest of ours a few weeks earlier, on her way from
Pennsylvania to Crawford, Colo., where she owns land and wants to build a
Vaastu house. Norma Jean and I talked about all kinds of things. It was
wonderful to have a metaphysical discussion with someone again. She let me
borrow Robert Schwartzís new book Courageous Souls, which Iíll be reviewing in
the Beacon in a month or two.
I had hoped to catch the
Paonia fireworks at dusk, but as I approached Paonia, the fireworks were of a
different sort. Instead of cars going to the park where the fireworks were to
be held, cars were headed away! Then I saw why. The hill side was on fire!
Another 4th of July fire made me think of the big one in 1994. Luckily, they
got the fire out without it destroying any structures. I later found out that
fireworks were not the cause, but a spark off a train.
Thursday morning I drove
to Cedaredge and had breakfast with Arda Golden Eagle Woman, author of This
Myth We Call Illusion, and master of the awakenings. Arda was her same
wonderful self, and we had a great time. Again, it was as though Iíd never
left the mountains.
Later that afternoon,
Arda and I met Polly Cady in Delta. Polly just got married June 26 to Ray
Kelsey, and we had the privilege of meeting him before he had to take off.
Polly does energy work and handwriting analysis.
My son, Scott, arrived from
Salt Lake City, so we headed back to Paonia, to get ready to drive to Alamosa
the next day. The wedding was Saturday, and all went well. The ceremony took
place in the woods, very simply, without music, without rings. Afterward, the
brideís brother cooked hamburgers and brats on the grill, and most the guests
left right away. I stayed for the campfire. Ryan and Trish had invited anyone
who wanted to stay and camp to join them that night. I left to return to the
motel before it got dark, but Scott camped out in his little pup tent.
Sunday afternoon I headed
north toward Salida, where I met more light worker friends, Cindy and Daniel
Nichols, who live in Canon City but were camping. Daniel does dowsing work and
cleared a troublesome energy spot in our bedroom back in Ohio, using a diagram
that I drew on a napkin.
Finally, I headed for
Buena Vista and took Highway 24 east into Colorado Springs. The scenery was
incredible. Iíd never taken that route before, through South Park, and all I
could think about was that someday Iíd like to come live in Colorado again...
these mountains were telling me they missed me as much I miss them.
The final night I stayed
with my dear light worker friend, Honey Lee (Peggy) French, in her comfortable
home not far from the airport. Her chocolate cocker spaniel, Coco, has a coat
so soft, itís like fine fur. Peggy had knee replacement surgery on both knees
in mid-July. She continues to be in my prayers as she is a most remarkable
It was sad to leave the
mountains behind me as I took off on that jet Monday afternoon. But I was
actually happy to get home at 12:30 that night to Jackson Run. Ethan and his
visiting son were waiting up for me. The dog went ballistic when he saw me,
which is always flattering.
Of course, I regretted
the fact that I simply didnít have time or energy to go see everyone I had
hoped to see. You all know who you are. Iíll be sure to catch you next time.
A place is magical when
you can carry it in your heart, no matter where you are. I learned that I
donít need to actually be there, in the mountains, to feel that my spirit is
there already. I only need to close my eyes and remember.
Ann Ulrich Miller is
publisher of The Star Beacon.
Copyright © 2007 Ann Ulrich Miller
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