Cida and the Valley of the Moon

Purple rain clouds rolled in overnight and we woke to rainbows and rain. Considering the exertions of the day before we were happy to rest and catch up on our mounting pile of bookwork. We had been warned that this was the rainy season and the weather could be very unpredictable.

Cida had offered both of us treatments so we took advantage of the opening in our schedule.

Cida's family background was African and she was becoming known and treasured in the region for her ability to contact spirit healers and provide the herbal cures that they recommended. We had been encouraged to visit Juan de Deus (John of God) when we were in Brasilia having heard of his miracle cures. But the cognoscenti in Alto Paraiso said that Juan's scene was becoming very commercial and that we could have the same experience with Cida.

Sabira, being an ardent student of the Candomble offered to translate. We were led through a clean but cavernous room to an upstairs massage table. After suitable prayers and purification she proceeded to welcome a healing spirit to guide her hands and her heart. For Anahata she called that spirit Grandmother Katarina who gave Anahata a gentle working over which included swatting with some leaves from the garden and some wonderful advice about healing childhood trauma. It was the only time I have ever seen anyone able to massage Anahata's feet. She usually withdraws them with shrieks of overwhelm. With Cida there was no reaction at all.

The spirit who guided my healing was a Caboclo, a large African man who called me "Child" when referring to my needs. Though my massage was much more vigorous than Anahata's I felt the embrace of a force of great gentleness and caring. For a moment I felt myself lifted in these enormous black arms, even though it was clear my body was still on the massage table.

For my herbal swatting Cida returned from her garden with an armload of different bits and bobs. There were leaves to wrap around my once broken leg, leaves for rubbing, leaves for smelling. He/she told me that I already had a great deal of protection but there was one area that I needed to address. My liver. Nothing new there, every doctor for the last 25 years has had the same advice. Cida brought our session to a close and I was given some foul tasting brew for my liver and a pink quartz rock she had found in the hills for general love and protection.

We rested long and deeply the rest of the day, ready for the evening's celebration. It was an open dance night, and the lovely round room that had been organized for our dance circle was full to overflowing with folks of all ages. All the Taras of the previous evening had come and pleaded that we continue the Dharma instruction as well as dancing. What a love feast.

The next morning we were picked up by Alberto in his four wheel drive vehicle. He is a guide, a Brazilian professional, he greeted us with big hugs and kisses before sweeping us off the main road towards the Valley of the Moon. Five minutes down the dirt track he stopped the car abruptly and vaulted into a nearby field, returning with "Star" flowers for each of us.

Brush land stretched in all directions without any human habitation in sight. Our first stop was to view the Garden of Maitreya. On our left there appeared a set of cliffs. Alberto pointed out the face of what he called The Guardian.

On the other side of the road we slid through the brush to gaze on a green landscape framed by hills with colorful names...the Whales Tail, the Chinese Hat.

He told us that some time ago a group of men arrived in the area, calling themselves the Knights of the White Brotherhood. They declared the area to be the Garden of Maitreya and organized a community dedicated to the legendary coming of this future Buddha. The community eventually disbanded but the name was kept by the local folks and there were stories of inter stellar comings and goings. Richard had told us that there was a field near the Camelot Posada that the townspeople often went to at the end of the day to watch the sun set and the flying saucers land.

We drove on, occasionally passing side roads, some with fancy rancho like names. We turned down one of these side dips, entering the Vale de Lua (Valley of the Moon), bouncing through thick jungle.

We left the car near a thatched shed with the permission of the caretaker of the property. A narrow track through the bush soon displayed the magic rock formations that gave the valley it's name.

The narrow Rio Lua was roaring from recent rains leaping and twisting through carved rock channels. Streaks of quartz crystal glistened and we gazed on inaccessible pools with the promise of a swim if we would just clamber and climb a bit. We did and the pool of clear water was a mermaid's treat.

Upstream, a waterfall pounded into a narrow gorge. Alberto slithered like a lizard in the know and as I took a leap through the water towards the falls he grabbed my hand and pulled me through a narrow crevice in the rocks. We were in a round chamber and the force of the water pushed me into the far corner where there was a ledge I could climb up out of the water and another to sit on. Looking up the sheer sides we could see the blue sky about 20 feet above us.. "This my home" Alberto said. Then before I could protest, "I go take photo, up" he pointed at the sky and off he went oblivious to my "NO" not to be heard above the pounding roar of the falls. He slithered through the crack and I was alone. The current was too strong for me to swim against it to get out on my own. I could only imagine Anahata's reaction to the dripping Alberto demanding our digital camera to take photo "up". This could take awhile.

I cosied further onto the ledge. The air was pungent with forest smells and alive with the trembling ions outside the "door".

The opposite wall of the cave had a moss made mural that gently shaped itself into a laughing Green Tara. It was a long and lovely meditation but I began to get cold.

I heard some shouts and suddenly a young man peered into the cave and pushed a nervous young woman through the crevice.

I reached for her hand, guiding her to the ledge and then gestured to him to pull me to freedom. Just at that very moment I looked up to see Alberto and Sabira peering down from the sky roof above.... without the camera.

Back at the shed we found a sugar cane juice press but no cane. Anahata and Sabira hammed it up for the camera. On our return towards town Beto decided to take a severely compromised mountain road, demonstrating the four wheel capability of his car. We stopped on top of a hill he called the landing place - another extra terrestrial site. We found the most amazing puff flowers and stunning views of the hills fading into deeper shades of blue. Surrounding trails led into the adjacent National Park where a day's hike could reveal even more wonders. Another day. The sun was getting low.

We stopped at one of the fancy ranchos where there were designer thatched gazebos and a pounding waterfall graced by an enormous pool. One more swim, one more waterfall back massage and we were ready for our last class at the Lotus Studio.

It was beautifully arranged inside the dome, the circular and triangular windows open to the cool evening air. The room was full, the word was out, there were over 60 people from the very young to the very old. One matron who had attended all three evenings begged us to stay, "I am serious", she told me in her halting English, "for my spiritual life." Many attendees came to us shyly, confessing that they couldn't pay for the evening and asked if we would accept trades. We received home made bread, pots of local honey, bees wax candles, lavender oil, Mandala drawings of our names, herbal eye masks and bags of local crystals. The next morning we left Camelot with a bit more luggage and a lot more Brazilian hugs and kisses. We stopped off in town to take pictures of Anahata in front of a fence I had spotted with huge letters that said Anahatha. No one knew why this was on the fence. We also visited an architect named Shantideva who had built the most charming dome house/rooms for his family. We were going to be visiting one of his bigger projects in Brasilia that very evening. But that is another story.

Enjoy,

Prema and Anahata

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The albums 09 Alto Paraiso and 10 The Valley of the Moon illustrate this story.