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Healing Story #3 - Yellow
http://www.travelblogs.com.au/articles/464/1/Healing-Story-3---Yellow/Page1.html
Jason Wilson
Continue reading Healing Story - Birth and Death at http://Intent.com, your online community resource for living your purpose, leadership skills, relationship advice and much more. 
By Jason Wilson
Published on 4th December, 2008
 
3 Chod-Yellow If you are joining this story for the first time please go to red and work yourself forward it will flow a lot better that way, God Bless you and good luck with discovering your color NOT ONLY WAS the straw of the hut yellow, but the rows of sunflowers and the large patches of herbs planted throughout the front yard all seemed to have yellow flowers

3 Chod-Yellow

If you are joining this story for the first time please go to red and work yourself forward it will flow a lot better that way, God Bless you and good luck with discovering your color!

NOT ONLY WAS the straw of the hut yellow, but the rows of sunflowers and the large patches of herbs planted throughout the front yard all seemed to have yellow flowers. Florencia was on her knees in this garden and was talking to “someone” when he approached. Her yellow hair glistened in the sunlight. She stopped her conversation with the plants and turned to look over her shoulder, giving him a smile that made the young man feel as if she were very happy to see him again … as if she recognized him immediately. She did seem familiar but he was positive he had not met her before, at least not in this lifetime.

“My name is Ziggy. Armun sent me to pick up the herbs you prepared for her on my way to the Corral.”

She stood and reached out to him, he thought to shake his hand, but her grasp slipped past his as her hand settled on his arm and his muscles. She squeezed it tight.

“You just might be strong enough for the ‘Corral De Aqua’, however, its not physical strength you will need, your mental strength must be sharp.” Turning, she opened the door to her Ruka, stopped for a second to reach over and rub her hand on the well-worn notches of the Rewe that stood to the right of her door. Ziggy smiled, remembering that his father had never entered his cabin, either, until he rubbed the belly of the large Buddha that sat in the same location.

The sound of dance-trance music greeted them as she opened the door. She walked ahead and began to move as if dancing, only she seemed to be gliding slightly above the floor. Then she stopped and turned in a circle that reminded the boy of the Tibetan ladies he had seen perform when his father took him to see the Dalai Lama. Like his father, she was 100% hippie.

(Geronimo whispered, “Chod.”)

The day was not a cold, yet she had a large fire glowing in the fireplace. Ziggy stopped in the doorway, not sure if he should enter. He saw on a pedestal by the front door a large statue of the Angel Uriel, whose name was inscribed on the base. But it was already a familiar statue to him because he and his father had shared a book on angels his mother had left them. His father had said Uriel was his second favorite Angel, next to Gabriel. Florencia caught him staring at the statue. “Armun’s mom, Luz Clara, gave that to me when I took over as the Machi for her. She said that special angel was the Guardian of the Gates of Paradise.”

“Come in,” she prodded him. “I have Armun’s herbs here in a large bag so I suggest you pick it up on your way back from the Corral.” The back door to the house was open; the young man noticed the worn area in the center of the back yard and a large wooden statue standing in its center. “That is a likeness of my husband. He ‘passed over’ several years ago. This is where we hold our ceremonies...