Tag Archives: mountains

Mt Shasta Magic

15th October, 2015

Morning dew dripping, songbirds singing, the forest is waking up.

Warmed by tea and refreshed by river, we are ready for the day.

Returning to camp, the embers still glowing, from last nights fire,

we burn Paulo Santo, to begin the ceremony. It’s sweet smoke surrounds us;

“Oh Great Spirit, may the children of the forest, that grow as fungi, show us it’s medicine to help us on the path of Awakening.”

On the wings of the day, we hike through the forest and up toward the hill.

I’m quickly crossing into the magical shamanic realm.

Heightened beyond measure, a new and powerful experience awaits.

Plant medicine, an ancient tradition, helps us heal and aids in Self Discovery.

The Garden of Eden is here, when the mind is clear.

The trees dance as the winds blows, with the crescendo of the shining sun.

What a melody, I can hear the tune. The glorious symphony of Life.

Against the blue sky, the trees morph together, into the Jaguar of personal power.

It’s enormity is stunning and I am amazed. We meet again.

The tribes in the amazon, say it’s the spirit of the jungle. I can see it now.

It guides us to the ridge top, what a view.

Hands in thanks, for the mighty mountains.

Taking a deep breath, the medicine is working.

Turning around, the trees form a giant

Mountain Lion, standing tall and bearing strength.

“Stay in the Heart, walk the path, be here for Truth and nothing less.”

It’s the Lion of leadership, and its roar stirs my soul.

Intensity subsides as my hand is held, turning to look at my partner.

She is soft as velvet, bright as the crescent moon, radiating love in her silence.     

Her eyes like an Owl, she can see in dark places, and face of a hawk, reminding me of our connection to the Great Spirit.

I focus on my breath as we walk down the hill into the sunshine.

Oh divine oxygen, clean out my doubt from the inside out.

So many questions about the future…

There is no future, only Now.

“Just live the Truth, know it, and be it!”

My old friend the crow, calls overhead to confirm the message.

“I am the Self. There’s no division in the One” I hear myself say.

“Identity and separation is just a thought, nothing more.”

Everything is an offering to itself through this perfect symbiosis.

A Love that never ends.

The sun is fading along with the power of the medicine.

Fire flies twinkle in the twilight, illuminating the fungi hidden among the fallen trees.

I can almost hear them say, meditate with us.

A lotus flower opens, as white light emanates from inside,

revealing the Buddha within.

Singing from the sky above fills my heart with joy.

Its the voice of my Guru, Sri Mooji, a living sage.

Flooded with love for the gift of his presence,

I realise it’s the love we have for the One True Self.

Heading back to camp with one last look into the distance,

Mt Shasta is glowing pink as a heart.

Life is unfolding and I am open.

Part II: Trust in the Flow


We arrive in Shimla at dawn the following day without any prior knowledge of what the place looks like or where we would stay.

Its effortless remember?

Rubbing the sleep from our eyes we notice no one else is on the bus, so we ask the driver to help with the bags. A young taxi driver is waiting outside and tells us we should have gotten off at the Old bus station, the previous stop. This is the New bus station 8 K’s from town.

Good Morning

He agrees to help us find accommodation but the first 10 guesthouses are full. It seems we are in ‘high season’, even though we are the only non-nationals in sight! It gives us a chance to see the area though, which is a massive hillside township made up of colorful stacked housing, strewn across steep hills and ridge tops. Impressive given the landscape!

After an hour, we are fatigued from the search and buy the driver breakfast, who decides to call his friends to meet us. They inform us that there is one room remaining which won’t cost a pot of gold and shows it to us. Walking over to the window, I watch a family of monkeys playing in the foreground of a beautiful, sweeping vista.

This is the place.

With the help of the driver, the hotel concierge and a baggage handler I affectionately call ‘Toto’ we stagger into the room and order tea for all.

We made it! 

Any bus ride that is over 8 hours in India requires a lot of rest the following day, due to lack of sleep, rag doll neck and some vigilance. This was no exception, so it wasn’t until the following day, that Toto hooks us up with with a friend who takes us on an amazing tour of the area. With Christine armed with her trekking pole and I with my heightened instinct for care, we explore the monkey temple where there’s a towering statue of Hanuman overlooking the township.

Next we travel to Shimla’s highpoint where hundreds of donkeys and small horses assemble to pick up their tourists for treks into the elevated wilderness. After a brief meditation at a local temple, we leave the courtyard, adorned with a blanket of red and orange fallen leaves, and resume the tour.

We then visit the British Institute of Advanced Learning which is oddly enchanting due to its British – Indian architectural  fusion. It’s more like a summer home for European royalty. The evening ends with the two of us strolling at midnight, along the cobbled high street with the anglo-christian church lit up in the background as we sip a glass of red wine under the moonlight.

The B.I.A.L / Summer Residence. Photo: Christine Idilbi

Are we still in India?


Waking early the next day, we leave with Toto, to grab our bus tickets for Delhi. We purchase them from the Old station but leave from the New station, which leaves in an hour. Weird.

Quickly, we pack our things and Toto helps us load the bags into the taxi which was 20 minutes late, giving us only 20 minutes to spare. Poor Christine is still in pain so I try not to rush. Pulling out of the driveway we head straight into gridlock. Damn.

But Indian buses hardly leave on time do they?

15 minutes to departure and we are in a traffic jam. Rising panic is calmed with trust in being. We’ll make it. I fidget for a while before calling Toto to get the number of the bus operator, who asks me to speak with the driver. Rightly so, he pulls over to talk. No! we’ve got ten minutes left, don’t stop!…Ok, maybe we’re not supposed to get on the bus…Breathe.

5 minutes left.

The driver hangs up and continues his causal crawl looking nonchalant, but we haven’t even left town yet. 0 minutes left, the bus should now be leaving. We finally start to leave town and wind downhill, so I call the bus operator again and explain our situation to which he replies “Sir, the bus has already left!”

After a defeated sigh of acceptance, the operator kindly informs me that we are allowed to flag down the bus. Game On! Giving the phone to the taxi driver, he grunts in reply and speeds up as the operator gives him the details of the bus. Minutes of dodging, beeping and hair-pin turns later, we make our way through the traffic. Eventually we see the big green bus and drive alongside it, leaning out of the window and flapping our arms about desperately until the man with a turban sees us, laughs, slows down and opens the doors.


Phew, Delhi here we come!



That evening, the lovely AC bus drops us off by the side of the highway on the periphery of town. There is a rickshaw waiting that takes us into town without any problems, only the temperature has increased considerably. We check into ‘Yes Please’ guesthouse all slimy and sweaty. It’s 40 degrees and we are tired from hauling bags but very grateful to the many people who have helped us along the way.

It really is Effortless India, as long as you keep an open heart.

The ‘Guy with a stiff neck’ who we know from a previous stay is friendly and laughs throatily as he checks us in for the night and arranges a morning train the next day to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal.

This will be Christine’s first train ride. Once on board, a man on the platform  walks by our carriage and stops to drape his arms through the bars of the window and stare at her for an uncomfortably long time. I mean, a really long time, like 10 minutes. I look at my watch and thank heavens we are leaving soon.

I watch Christine silently meditate and pray. About 30 seconds later, an old man walks onto the train and sits in front of the creepy starer.

I am astonished and inspired as I look on and feel the words inside;

“All you have to do is ask”.

An affirmation that the help is always there if you trust in Life.

10 days until my visa expires.

What will happen and how?

Only God knows.