Amethyst Qu - The Moldavite Message

as told to

Amethyst Qu

After witnessing the fall of a rare green meteor, Moonfire began to experience a series of unusual dreams and visions, culminating in this message channeled with the assistance of a natural Moldavite.

If we are truly all one, are we all one with all the ones in all the other worlds?

Legal Note

2017 by Moonfire & Amethyst Qu.

Cover design by Peachfront Press

This is a book about the unexplained. We can't guarantee that you will get the same results or any results from working with Moldavite or any other crystal. Neither the author nor the publisher can take any responsibility for the outcome of your Moldavite meditations. If you are in doubt about the safety of experimenting with any advanced meditation technique, please consult with your mental health professional.

In times of trouble, the mountains have always called to me. This time, though, the call came from an equally troubled friend, who had never hiked in the mountains before because of a great fear of heights. Our difficult hike was made more difficult by the fact he feared to look down.

Because of the way its natural green beauty spoke to me, I wore a teardrop of natural unpolished Moldavite set in 14-karat gold on a chain that caused it to fall in the hollow of my throat. Knowing what I know now about the emotional impact of Moldavite, I might not have chosen that stone for that hike with that friend under those circumstances. The crystal literature is pretty clear on the topic. This stone can get into the heart and the emotions, and it may be linked to some intense experiences.

But I didn't know that then. I didn't know why I was drawn to wear it. I just was.

And so my anxious friend and I hiked endlessly until we stood near the peak of one of Colorado's famous Fourteeners. It was very late at night, and the sky was more stars than dark above us.

We had not intended to arrive so late. There had been a long hour when my friend could not hike forward and could not hike downward, an hour frozen in time and place where he stood unable to move until the fear passed.

I had not known his anxiety was so intense until we were already too far up the trail to turn back. Slowly, I developed a suspicion that he was getting close to the kind of panic reaction where he would break into a run downhill, headlong and reckless, often the most dangerous kind of run. I thought to reach out and hold his hand, but he wouldn't take it. His knuckles were white from the fierceness of his grip on the walking stick.

When the break came, though, it was not so dramatic. He simply stopped putting one foot ahead of the next foot. For a long time, he didn't move, and I held my breath so hard it began to hurt.

He held his breath too.

Then, suddenly, he inhaled sharply and turned in a circle to see the blue sky through the trees around us and then he was moving forward again, step by step by step. Not fast. No, never fast. But he was doing it.

Crisis averted.

The stone at my throat began to pulse, as if awakening something. The throat chakra.

We began to talk, and the hike became less of a physical exercise and more of a mental one. He had been out of work and involved in extensive physical training for quite some while, so perhaps the hike had always been a mental exercise for him. I was only now beginning to appreciate that.

So we talked, and I felt rather than saw a strange shimmer in the air, as if we had passed through a metaphorical looking glass. It seemed odd to me that we were hiking a popular peak in high summer, and yet we hadn't heard or seen another person for many hours. It felt like we weren't on the actual mountain of our planet Earth at all. Rather, we had crossed through some invisible barrier to hike the peak on an alternative Earth where people didn't exist.

He must felt the same, because suddenly we were both chanting the famous words:

"The time has come," the walrus said, "to talk of many things: of shoes and ships- and sealing wax- of cabbages and kings."

What does that even mean? he asked.

I don't know, I said. I mean, I know some of it. Cabbages was a reference to the unevolved human head, and kings was the evolved human mind.

Shoes is walking. Moving forward using only our own physical body. Ships is sailing. Moving forward using the technology we've developed.

So what about the sealing wax?

Well, how far do you get with a leaky ship. So...

Hmm.

In the classic story, the walrus had proposed we talk about how to evolve, but I don't remember that he came to any conclusions.

I remembered something else, an old surrealistic song. John Lennon said he was the walrus.

Jinx. I was just thinking that, my friend said.

You have to say it to call jinx.

John Lennon said he was the walrus.

No, but you have to say it at the same time I say it.

And so the conversation went, mostly silly, sometimes serious, and all of it a deep meditation on the nature of reality. A true Lewis Carroll Alice-in-Wonderland tea party conversation. Neither of us wanted to say out loud what was becoming obviousthat it was increasingly odd we weren't encountering any other people.

At some point during that slow upward hike, my friend's fear of heights had vanished. Still, it was very late by the time we reached the peak, even by the standards of those long summer afternoons. We'd timed things to arrive in time to view the sunset, but we were hours late for that, and so we stood considering the sky above us. I had never before noticed so many colors in the stars of the Milky Way. Were these really the same stars as on our version of planet Earth?

The shooting stars were white and cold and fast.

Wish I may, wish I might...

Oh shoot it's just a satellite.

It wasn't, though. There were no satellites. No airplanes. Just sky, dark, and stars.

Not wanting to camp on the exposed peak, we began to hike down, but we were still above the treeline when we saw ita huge green fireball that took several seconds to streak down the sky and down into the valley. It was utterly silent, which contributed to the unreality of seeing such a rare form of meteor. We both stood there frozen in place, mouths open, unspeaking, unable to believe what we'd just seen.

A long time later, which was probably really only ten or fifteen minutes later, we began to hike down again.

Did you see that? I asked at the same time he asked, Did you see that?

Jinx, we said together.

We had both seen it, but neither of us was prepared to discuss what we had seen. Not that night.

And then, somewhere not far away, we heard the sound of human voices singing. Without discussion, we joined the other group, six people with tents up and campfire already built, singing songs we'd known all our lives.

My friend would not discuss the hike with me again. A month or so later, I took one of our photographs from the peak and had it framed as a picture as a surprise, but he refused to look at it. To my shock, he set it on a display stand face-in to show only the cardboard backing.

I don't like to think about heights, he said.

But you conquered your fear, I said. I saw it. This picture proves it.

I'm not going to think about that anymore. That was it, discussion over.

For me, the effects were more long-lasting. I began to have strange dreams, then visions that appeared to me even during the waking hours. When it became obvious that something wanted to speak through me, I contacted Amethyst Qu, a crystal cutter and adventure traveler who occasionally writes on the topic of crystal healing, meditation, and magic. I'd made a series of audio messages talking about the experiences I seemed to be channeling, and I needed someone to help me put them down on the page.