It Was Never About a Show at Red Rocks -#30

The real reason for the journey reveals itself

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Velvalee and Joie and I had roadtripped to Colorado in January 1996, one of the worst winters on record, so I could attend a meeting for an event I was supposed to produce at Red Rocks Amphitheatre the following summer. And now that meeting was postponed a week. Velvalee had an idea of what we might do with the delay. And it involved more driving. For me and the Pathfinder, which only I drove. In yet another snowstorm.

Velvalee had been spending a lot of time on the phone with a friend of hers who lived on the other side of the state. He was begging her to come visit him in Durango and help with the workshop he was giving, as long as she was already in Colorado. Velvalee wanted to help out and thought he and I should meet anyway. So far everyone in Velvaleeʻs inner circle had been worth meeting. Prageet, she explained, had channeled the design for a large geometric structure made of copper tubing that was a portal for higher energies. He and his wife led group meditation retreats facilitated with this Stargate structure. The wife was currently offering workshops in Europe, while he had stayed in Durango, hence the plea for support.

Another channelled entity? Another meditation experience? I shrugged. In balmy summer weather that would be around a six hour drive from my parents house just southeast of Denver. It being a snowy January, the prospect of crossing the continental divide for a reason other than skiing did not seem the least bit appealing. But we had come this far, might as well get the most out of the trip. Despite my reservations and the forecast calling for snow, we headed out the following morning, planning to arrive in Durango that afternoon

Snowy day in Durango, Colorado.

I should have known better. By the time we got to Wolf Creek Pass, the snow was a flat out blizzard. The six-hour drive turned into ten hours of intense driving requiring every bit of my focus and Colorado-girl years of practice on snowy, icy roads. Velvalee and Joie “held the frequency,” laughing and smoking cigarettes, while I held the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. By the time we reached our destination well after dark, I was at a whole different “frequency”, the frequency of tired, hungry, cranky and resentful. No way had it been worth it. I was kicking myself for agreeing to make this side trip.

I felt even more out of sync when Prageet opened the door and the three of them nonchalantly greeted one another with big smiles and hugs, laughing in delight at their reunion. I had nothing left in me for small talk or deep conversation or even to just ask for what I needed. Which was something to eat and a place to sleep. Or at least some acknowledgement and thanks for my hours of chauffeur service.

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And then a child appeared from behind Prageet. A girl, with long straight hair the color of mine, and a golden puppy at her side. Our eyes met and her thin strong arms encircled me at hip level. I leaned over to return the hug and she held on and held on.

Every mother and grandmother and auntie, really every person with parental instincts, recognizes this hug. Not the hug of “I am happy to see you.” Not the hug of “I love you.” Definitely not the quick hug of duty. The hug that is a request, the one that says, “I trust you and I really need you to take care of me right now.” Only once before in my life an even smaller girl had lifted up her arms to me and met my eyes with that same look of “I choose you,” of choosing or knowing that in some way we would belong to each other. My anger over the drive and at my companions melted away. This child was the reason I was here.

Malu was eleven. She had a younger sister, I was told, but the sister had gone with their mother to Europe. Apparently the adults (Prageet was her stepfather) had given her the choice between getting the puppy she desperately wanted, or going with her mother and sister that winter. She chose the puppy. And now somehow neither her stepfather, nor the other adults who were there in the house as Stargate workshop participants and crew, were providing this capable and self-sufficient child, but still only eleven year old child, with the attention and nurture she needed.

We stayed that week. I got to experience the Stargate meditation, which I found powerful. I felt the energies were “real” and saw its value for unlocking personal growth and transformation. I got to listen to long channeled messages from Alcazar, the Guide who spoke through Prageet and occasionally begged for ice cream. There was an awful lot of stuff similar to what I had already heard and read from various other channels, about Pleiadians and Arcturians and the lost continents of Atlantis and Mu. I tried to listen beneath the stories for the messages and lessons that resonated as truth. Like Velvalee and Joie, Prageet was fascinated by my history - my PhD in economics, my years in corporate and banking positions. I was not the typical participant in these workshops, but I was more “advanced” than many who had studied and trained with them for years. I was an anomaly that validated their work.

But mostly, I was there for Malu. I knew I would be back, for the Stargate work and because Velvalee had been right in bringing me to Durango. Somehow all our journeys were connected. When I got the call apologetically informing me that the meeting was not happening the following week, in fact the event was not happening at all, I was not the least bit surprised. Velvalee flew on to Hawaiʻi, Joie flew to California. I left the Pathfinder with my parents and flew back to New York knowing that Colorado would indeed be in my summer plans. Just not the way I had driven out of Manhattan imagining only a couple of weeks earlier.