The Energy of Place

John: So, as a continuation of this conversation from yesterday (see The Energy to Change), I had this sense inside that I needed to shift from where I was and to follow another vibration. Basically I sensed that I needed to follow the shift in energy, rather than to resist it. And if we are not quiet enough to listen to those intuitive feelings that we all have, we end up disconnecting from the inner guidance that is always available to us, and through us.

I mean, this whole shift from the Northwest to Las Vegas came out of the blue. It would have been so easy to dismiss it, based solely on the common perception of what Las Vegas represents – you know, Sin City. Why would we choose to pursue a spiritual journey in the Sodom and Gomorrah of our time?

Yesterday we drove around, getting lost and looking at places to live, and the one thing that stands out is the view, the perspective, from that one apartment that overlooks The Strip. I mean, do I really need to see a view of the lights at night? I know that’s something interesting that I can take in just by looking within. I know that can automatically happen.

So, it caused me to wonder what there is about being able to just peer at this view of The Strip that is so fascinating. It’s not fascinating in the sense of sitting and pondering it as an incredible view. Instead, somehow or other I’m going to be touched by all those lights – the aliveness of them. It’s the flickering aliveness of those lights that has an effect. 

Now, I’m not even limiting this feeling to those specific lights, either. Yet somehow they create a trigger to other memories. I can still see it, having stood in that unit and looked out at the view. Normally I can’t see things.

Normally I don’t know what street I’m on, or whether I’m heading north, south, east, or west. I’m usually all twisted around. But I can still see that view. Not in specific detail, but I can see it vibrationally. I can feel the energy of it. And it will give a very different sensation depending on whether it’s nighttime or in the day.

Then it can take on a whole different dynamic. There’s a quickening of that feeling. When we joke around about whether other people could enjoy this city or this view, I’m not sure they’d know how. They might see it as a violation of the vibrational state we are seeking. I don’t know for sure, but when I contemplate the reaction of others I get the sense that it might create a stigma.

The other thing that causes me to wonder – and it seems very, very strange – is the idea of trying to keep the presence of the former owner alive there somehow. What is there about her presence? What has she done there that has set an energetic tone that is still there, and that I’m worried might leave or disappear?

I really can’t get clear on that yet, but that energy is important to the place. Will she drop it? It was so odd when we were there and the toilet was definitely running. When I walked into the bathroom, I jiggled it, and it was still running. And when we were on the verge of leaving I decided to point it out to her.

As we walked to the back I heard it go “kerthunk” and then it stopped running. As we walked up I said, “Well, it was running a minute ago,” and she said, “Yes, I heard it running. It must know I’m back.”

That was amazing. That was a very unusual statement. When you think about that you almost think that she maintains a certain kind of magic in her nature, and that that, somehow or another, is in the place too.

Everything is Redeemable

Jeane: The best way to describe my dream – because it went on for a long time – is that I was in a kingdom where there had been some sort of coup; someone had taken over from what was there before.

There were a number of forces running wild, still trying to take over certain areas, and some of them used magic. I never knew who was a friend or a foe. I had to keep moving fairly rapidly, trying to identify who might be okay, and trying to decide which energy to reinforce. It was really a rather perverse society. 

The term that kept coming to mind is that this was a society that would eat its own young. So I had to stay sharp and stay on the move all the time, and look for allies but never be quite sure if I could really trust them, or if someone might be watching or even coming down from the sky to cause havoc.

I remember going into a room, somewhere that I’d been before, and I had to retrieve something. There was a workman in the room doing something to the polished oak floor. They had taken the foundation out from under the floor, so I’m not sure if the boards are going to hold when I have to cross from one end of the room to the other.

There’s something I had to get in either the bathroom or the kitchen, so I just do my best to rapidly cross the floor and hope it holds. Then I leave because, again, I’m having to stay on the move and keep my eye out because I’m looking for alliances to build towards creating something that’s better, but I really just don’t know whom I can trust.

John: So what do you think the inspiration for that dream was?

Jeane: Coming to Las Vegas, for sure.

John: Okay, so how is coming to Las Vegas causing you to being on the move? I’m not sure what that’s trying to say. Is it trying to say that you’re going to be able to fix something that way, or are you just aware that everything is affected?

Jeane: I’m not sure myself. It was a strange dream.

John: What was the last part again?

Jeane: I had to retrieve something. And then I’m looking for alliances, and I go into homes and I’m looking but I just don’t trust anything yet.

John: Yes, you’re trying to pull something together out of…

Jeane: There are forces there that are helpful, but they’re hard to find.

John: Yes, it’s interesting in the sense that you realize that there’s something to be appreciated, even with all the chaos that exists. It’s something that’s latent in terms of what’s there below the surface. It’s kind of like…

Jeane: Everything was in chaos, and there was magic being used and misused.

John: Ah, in other words, misuse. So you’re seeing a lot of misuse in terms of the glamorous surface of things. I never thought of it that way. That’s probably what became of Atlantis, where there was this great Mecca, but it degenerated into all kinds of misuse that caused the defiling of something sacred.

Jeane: But underneath that, there were other forces that I felt were trying to work in another direction – so I was trying to find those.

John: And so there are forces that are important about all of that – at the foundation of things. Even the floorboards that you have to run across aren’t held up by much. In other words, you see something that’s the epitome of confusion, chaos, and disturbance, but at the same time it’s the brightest thing on the planet in terms of the light that it gives off (although it’s artificial light). There’s something redeemable in all of that.

It’s interesting that you had that sense. I didn’t automatically have that. You’re already trying to pull what is redeemable, or of value, out from the glitz and chaos that is Las Vegas.

The Lost City

John: My dream starts off with me realizing that I have to be shown the areas I’m moving in, as if I’d never seen them before. The truth is that I’m moving in these areas every day, yet somehow I’ve stopped seeing them to the point where I don’t recognize the terrain anymore.  

The problem is that, left to my own devices in terms of this huge overall territory, I have gotten into a pattern of going over and over the same places until what’s there has gotten boring. Through constant repetition, everything has become so mundane that I’ve forgotten any characteristics about it.  

As a consequence, I fail to appreciate the aliveness of the area – I’ve become numb to it. I’ve even lost touch with the fact that there are four distinct cities in this region. That information comes as a surprise to me.

As a result, because I didn’t realize that there were any cities in this area, it doesn’t alarm me when I learn that the fourth city seems to have disappeared. Someone has brought to my attention that there are cities, and I can’t even tell where three of them are, let alone the fourth one that now is somehow gone.

So, I have to be taken out of my usual travel routine and shown again the region. Yet I can only be shown in short glimpses, because it’s like my faculties, or my senses, can only process so much information. Consequently, I don’t have enough information to be able to go to the cities on my own, nor do I know their whereabouts. I only know they exist from a space that I carry. 

One way to describe what’s happened is this: Originally I could come and go in this region and it was no big deal. I was in the natural flow, but I was asleep. I just did it, without having any real consciousness.

I didn’t think about whether there were cities or anything else. I could just freely come and go. It’s just like the free-floating you experienced in your dream (see Into the Mud). Then, over time, I got accustomed to particular repeated patterns and failed to appreciate the degree to which something lies before me – I just let it all go.

Eventually I come to learn (as I begin to awaken to the fact that I’ve gotten anesthetized) that there’s more in this area. That starts to stir me a bit because I realize that something is trying to awaken me out of this trance and I’m being slowly shown various parts of this big picture. But what I’m able to experience is limited because I can’t handle much. I’m too shut down inside.

Slowly then from that I come to realize that at one time I was simply in the overall, and it wasn’t the maze to me that it now is, now that I have to take it into full account, consciously, when before I was just in it. Then I was able to go to and fro with ease.

Now, if I try to reconcile what I think I know, I would realize that I have forgotten what I’m a part of and, as a result, I’m not able to appreciate the immensity. It’s like I’ve gotten lost.

In terms of the imagery, I don’t know the whereabouts of the three cities, and there used to be four cities, which represents a type of completeness that’s now askew. So it’s like I can’t help but say, oh my gosh, the consequences of these patterns are really leading me astray, or closing me down to the possibilities.

Still, the state I’m in is a begrudging one, because no one likes to be shaken from their sleeping state, to be jostled out of their patterns. We tend to fight this because what’s familiar seems important to hold onto – if we don’t know any better.

The patterns, and what they allow you to perceive and face in yourself isn’t much, because they snuff out the rest of the space and the natural knowingness that can be there. You could sum up the significance of this as realizing that what has been lost is an appreciation of the process. And that’s the loss of the appreciation of a human life.