Welcome to the new year.

Dear friends and readers. I am back in Chicago. Now without walking sticks and driving a car! I'm also ready to write more here and stay in touch with you.

The new year, 2010, has started. After the portals of 9/9, 10/10, 11/11 and 12/12 along with the solstice and the Mercury retrograde, I think we can say we all feel sufficiently bombarded by cosmic energy. The love bubble between 11/11 and 12/12 was a delight, and the Mercury reverse action brings out the worst in us. I had lovely days with the man I love, and have behaved like a shrew these last weeks. Anybody else?

But lightheartedness aside. We are in the last of times before the end of the world as we know it, to quote a famous song. We see it in the politics of this country, where issues are polarized to the extreme. The arguments have come to a point where the presidents statements seem clear and concise and pointed, sharp and beyond discussion. Whereas the comments from the opposing side seems full of lies, inane and not addressing the subject at hand. The extreme points are not just different in policies and opinion, it seems like they speak different languages, or send their messages through different frequencies. Have you experienced that? You're talking to someone and it feels like you are engaged in different conversations. The words you say tangent their planet and continue out at a different angle. And however much you try to understand what they mean, their statements don't make any sense to you in your framework.

Is this the situation of the have's and the havenot's? Is this what it means? That regular people seem to function according to different laws of physics, different value systems and communicate in different frequencies, even though they're standing in the same reality looking at the same scenery.
Is this what it means to coexist in different dimensions? It seems to be what is happening around us at the moment. This is a sign of the last days of time.

The twin flame of Yeshua and Mariam has returned to us. This represents the balanced relationship between male and female in its ideal form. This is the flame we all need to develop and welcome inside to become balanced individuals within. And it is the return of the proper values on the earth. Please welcome this concept back in our midst.

There is very little time left. The best gift we can give the world is to become a healthy happy human being. It's no small task. This means to go to work looking at what you carry with you. What national and racial issues reside within? Find your history. It's written in your DNA and it would help you if you knew what it is and what you're working with.

"Your biology is your biography."
- Caroline Myss.

This refers to what you carry from earlier generations. What did your ancestors experience and what did they do with it? How do these attitude show up in your life? Are you excusing them or working with them?

This is the work at hand. Clean up our DNA. According to scriptures, the sins of our forefathers are carried for seven generations. That means that for seven generations before us and seven generations after us we send our actions and attitudes out following time lines and successions of genetic material. This also means that when you identify a bad habit, maybe something you feel you inherited, and work to eradicate it out of your system, you are affecting 14 generations with your decision. This works across time and space. If you clean something out of your system, it will relieve your ancestor of their burden, and it will clear the head of the future ones. So the greatest work we can do is to clean up our own insides right now, right here. Listen to your own thought process and stop thoughts that are not supporting the progress of love in the world.

Oh, I can wax poetically ad nauseum about this, get all excited and feel that I'm doing a great job. And then I visit the relatives for the holidays. And I realize my own limitations, how bigoted I am on my own monastic island, and how little I understand of the love they're trying to show me. And I start all over again.

But this is the work. This is the understanding for 2010. Find out what you carry with you, what your frequency is broadcasting right out of the cell material of your body. What kind of walking television program are you showing as you move about in the world? Maybe you'd like to change the channel.

So what can you do?

The twin flame also refers to the relationship we establish between this world and the other side. And as this world is populated with many people of different origin and with different job descriptions and intentions, so is the other side. Everything is not angels or your sweet grandma. There are many levels of teachers, guides, and spirits floating about out there. They respond to frequency. So if you're vibrating with a whole collection of disgruntled ancestors, you will be communicating with entities who respond to that. If you vibrate on a cleaner octave, you show off a different sort of light combination and you will attract guides who can work with that. "Hey, your green is well developed. Come join our crew."

It is time to take responsibility for our relationship with our own frequency and what we attract to ourself. Bring up the light. Brighten up. Turn up the dimmers. Lift off the bushel and find your own candle glowing bright underneath. Have loving sex, what do we call it, make love, and create fireworks for the angels to enjoy. They love it when we create more love in the world.

So this is my pledge for the new year. I want to create more love in the world. I want to clear away negativity in my system, forgive my bitter and angry forefathers, and love all my difficult female relatives, past and future. That includes the nasty old aunts I knew who are now dead, the difficult old aunts I have to deal with now, my strict mother and impeccable mother in law, my cynical sophisticated daughter and my lovely grand daughters. It also includes the ancestral mothers who struggled through wars and famines and gave birth to dead children. They all live inside me. They all live in every cell of my body and I hear them speak in every embittered remark I make when I feel chided and not seen the way I see myself. I like to think of myself as loving and caring, and I shudder when I hear my own icy, metallic voice, cutting like a knife at the man I love, because he noticed that what I just said had no thread of love in it. I scream at him because he's right. And when I'm done yelling, I fall down in a chair like a punctured balloon, a useless piece of deflated rubber that has lost it's elasticity, and hear the echo from the walls calling out like my ancestors with the force of my own voice. I'm embarrassed as I see the frogs on the floor, the toads and reptiles, and not the cute Disney ones, but slimy yucky things that leave a shiny path of wet slime behind. They are the manifestation of what I have created in the room. My words have created garbage covering the floor.

It's time to find a broom. It's time to apologize. It's time to make amends, blame the Mercury in retrograde which makes us all show our worst sides, and own up to every ribbit squeal still lingering. It's time to call for our guides and angels and ask for better days, better advice, better choices in this new year.

The sun is shining. After ten inches of snow in Chicago and gloomy weather for weeks on end, there are sun rays reflecting blue on the surface of the snow. The sun clears my face as I sweep black dust out the door. The wind clears my brain. Did every ancestral scream get expressed? Did every frog find it's voice? Or maybe I don't need to feed flies of uncertainty and negativity to any more frogs. Maybe I can starve them out of existence by simply not giving them anything to feed on. My goal will be to live frog free. I'm tired of cleaning up slime from the floor.

I'll try to catch the flies before they feed a frog.

Wencke.

I'm in Norway!

My pilgrimage is taking me to Norway. My manuscript about Mary Magdalene is complete. I need an agent, a publisher and a publisist. I trust that the Universe, which has provided well for me so far, will present this support system to me as well. I'm now onto my next project.

You might wonder why there are nine months since my last entry. I celebrated Christmas in Hawaii with my son, Sebastian, and his family, celebrating the birth of my second grand child. In January we were involved in a car accident where I was badly harmed. Everybody else escaped with minor scrapes. I spent a month in hospitals and rehab in Honolulu with several broken bones and a broken neck. My biggest worry was weather I would be able to write again. Gradually I regained my abilities, and can now function fairly normally. I've gained an inch in height! That's good. But it's only on my left side. That's a problem. So I'm here in Norway recieving some physical therapy and orthopedic evaluation. Socialized medicine is the only way to go in our time.

After I stopped taking heavy duty pain pills, I found that my head still functions, and I can still read. Also, I have another project begging for my attention. I've been wanting to start my next trilogy. I want to go forward in time and see what happened to 'Mary Magdalene's Message' a thousand years later. Whom did she teach? Who remembered? Who claimed to own the heritage Yeshua and Mariam left behind? Where do I start looking for information?

I've started digging. And as usual, the story takes me in a different direction than what I expected. I looked for the secret teachings of the Cathars. I looked for the secret rituals of the Temple Knights. I looked for why the Merovingian kings of France claimed divine right to the throne. Most of the information you can find about these people is in the forced confessions their enemies have tortured out of them. What I find are some contorted descriptions hissed in agony. The descriptions of these people are also presented in in a negative way. And the only scriptures about them are from their accusers, which mostly amounts to the catholic church. Ack. They're still not scoring high in my book.

I decided to try another route. The pentagram around Rennes-le-Chateau has been described beautifully by Henry Lincoln. His next project was on Bornholm, a Danish island between Denmark and Sweeden. There are 12 churches on this tiny place, and they also form a complicated geometric pattern. Who put this much effort into placement of little stone churches and why? The next book that I ran across talks abou the pentagram of Norway! Now they had my attention.

It turns out that the placement of holy sites in Norway in a threehundred year long program, was to establish a geometric pattern for people's worship. So if all the people in the churches that formed a rightangled triangle went to church on sunday and sung their hymns at the same time, the sound would resonate in the land itself. It would tune the mountains, since the sounds would reverberate in lines and angles that related to eachother and would richochet across the landscape. Are you still with me?

Now this was too wild to pass up. I had to check this out. So Dan and I drove over the singing mountains of Jotunheimen to Bergen, looking for stavechurches. We found Borgund, which showed me a lot. Later I went over Dovre mountain to Trondheim, searching for the sainted king Olav. And I found him.

Norway, the country of my birth, holds some interesting secrets of it's own. I'm still walking in the path of Mary Magdalene. I'm still a pilgrim. And as long as I stay open, there is no end to where the Universe is taking me.

Wencke.

This blog carries Her name. I have been covering some other topics, promoting some books that are important to me, and I feel it's time to get back to the main reason I started this blog in the first place.

Throughout my research for the novel about her life, "Rituals in Sacred Stone", which I'm hoping to make available next spring, I immersed myself in her time frame. To my amazement, I found myself surrounded by a profound understanding of the balance between the masculine and feminine presence in everything in creation. At her time, the mystery schools were in function, promoting knowledge that has since been erased from the surface of the earth and from the collective unconscious.

The mystery schools would make sure the regular public were reminded several times a year of the presence of the Goddess and the God and that their union was necessary for all growth in nature. They would show them that on every eighth winter solstice the star of Venus and the Sun would unite in one momentous bright light, signalling a new conception, a new era. The stories of Isis and Osiris would be enacted at the festivals, conceptualizing life, death, resurrection and rebirth, and anchoring that as truths. The Priest/King represented the relationship between the people and the gods, and the Priestess/Queen represented the people and their land. Watching them unite in holy union told the people that all was well with their world. The power of unity had been restored between the land and their Gods, all was well. The sexual act had once again honored the Gods and ensured balance in nature. Lovers would feel they were honoring the Gods as well, by repeating what they'd seen done as a ritual. Arousal was seen as a way to enhance your life force, the life force in nature and on the planet.

In our time, we're a far cry from seeing sexuality as a way of honoring the Gods. But then again, I run across something like this, and I realize there is hope. And that the Gods have a tremendous sense of humor.

http://www.globalorgasm.org/

There is a reason why I had to promote Kamala and Dez's book. There is a reason why I wrote "Sex on the Altar" and why I'm working on the second volume; "Sex in the Crypt". I believe Mary Magdalene was well versed in this subject. Both in the physical sense with her beloved, but also as a concept guarding nature and the balance in creation.

We are being presented with a big challenge from the Universe at Large. Earth is lagging behind, and it's time we got our act together. (Pun intended). The rest of the Galaxy is tired of watching us stumble around in our self imposed ignorance, insisting self righteously on our right to stay uninformed and refusing to take on responsibilities. The time is now, and it's urgent.

At the same time as I can scold humanity for claiming their right to stay in infancy, I also see multiple proof that we're growing up. There is work being done to balance the Earth and earn our membership in the Galaxy as mature members.

This is work done in Her name. This is work which is so basic, so hugely important and at the same so subtle, it is hard to get a grip on and even harder to implement. To bring the Earth back to balance is no small task. It takes on many forms, all expression of more love for our planet and the creation we're all part of.

The message I get from Her, from Mary Magdalene, who's voice has been guiding my work for quite some time, is a call for us to assist in the rebirth of the feminine from the center of the earth. Out of the earth herself, comes the feminine of creation, who has been hiding, and who can blame her, for thousands of years. She's looking for her husband, her bridegroom, her man, and is hoping to find a more mature and loving version of him than the one who watched with eyes of steel as she turned into stone a long time ago.

We have suffered under immature images of both archetypes. Neither have shown us their grown up side. Where could we look to find something to emulate, an ideal to look up to?

Well, since the ideals are missing, we have to try to grow up ourselves. We need to find the expressions of the more mature person, the more mature inner feminine and masculine, and then we have to marry the two.

I see Mary Magdalene nodding her head. Yes, marry the two. They've hated each other for so long, bring them to love. She's been petrified, literally become rocks and mountains, and he's wondered where she went and not understood why he's alone. Creation has been without a mother, and the father didn't think it was his job to take care of it, so the garden of creation has turned into a jungle of despair. It's time for the parents to take care of their lost children, weed the garden, mend their buildings and replant some fruit trees. But first they have to get along.

Can I suggest a time for courtship? The art of flirting needs to be reinstated. How about some romantic dinners at candle lit tables, exchanging compliments and sincere admiration? How would that be for our lost archetypes, who are starting over after a long and painful separation?

How about giving them some hints of how to go from flirting to touching each other? If our two inner heroes are going to get married, they might want to be a little more familiar with each other, don't you think? I can see them stretching out a hand and touching a soft cheek, following a round shoulder and discovering that skin speaks. It speaks volumes, when all you do is breathe and love.

I wish our two inner heroes well. I know we'll have many internal weddings this coming year. And I know She will be thrilled, and so will her chosen One. I can hear Him laugh in delight.

Wencke.

I was recently told that we're in a special portal of time where we communicate easier with the higher powers. It's a portal where it's important to acknowledge our close relationship and allow them to speak to us. "Please grab a pencil and some paper and write down their message". With a twinge of scepticism, I can't deny it, I'm not of the mushy kind, I gathered what I needed and sat down.

They were so gentle. Speaking to me the way I address a small child, "Hello, little one". Most of what they said was acknowledgements of the journey I've already traveled. And some lovely encouragement of where I'm going. Where we all are going. They're telling us that the balance has shifted. Light is winning over dark. They can see it from their level, and they're thanking us for our dedicated work. It's quite colorful, especially when we create our own internal fireworks.

My first book out is about healing. We need to elevate the understanding of our bodies, evolve the language of sensuality, and bring our lovemaking to the level of sanctity. Sexuality has to return to the Temples for the global healing to take place. There is so much healing waiting to happen in this enormous field of understanding. And there are so many good people, wanting to show their love for the Divine in the Human and the Human in the Divine, working to heal the planet we live on.

I just discovered this beautiful book that is dedicated to bring this change about. Our bedrooms need to become our sanctuaries. Our holy places need to include our most universal body language. Right now it is offered with many extra bonuses, which are worth checking out. Here's the link:

http://www.1shoppingcart.com/app/?af=873582

My friend Lakshmi gets the credit for this one. The book is written by Kamala Devi and Baba Dez Nichols and called "Sacred Sexual Healing; The Shaman Method of Sex Magic". The balance we're working towards is coming towards us, the new expression of the masculine and feminine in their divine form is becoming tangible.

This is what the gods wanted me to continue to promote. This is my work, whether I'm writing fairytales for grownups, historical novels or plays. The God and Goddess are finding each other. They're flirting in the forest at this point. We still need to ready the garden for them.

Wencke.

My book.

"Sex on the Altar" is now available on Amazon.com. Click on the image of the book to the left to see the listing.

"Iconographic and sublime, "Sex on the Altar" by Wencke Braathen is first in the Adventures of Sam and Emily series that levels the playing field in the battle of the sexes—and sex. Wise, wicked, and witty, this debut fantasy fiction is rich in style, prose, lyrics and plot. It encourages constructive discipline and human affirmation—all we do matters. All we do is what we are, as a matter of prophecy and intention.

God has a problem. Mankind does not seem to get it and it is their fault the Queen of Heaven has been sucked into the Earth. There just hasn’t been enough devotion —not enough love. A heartsick God is willing to pull out all the stops and enlists Isis, the Egyptian goddess, a willing plotter, to bring the Queen back. In turn, Isis chooses Emily, a middle-aged woman, to work through, and becomes a smaller version of herself sitting on Emily’s shoulder. As things go haywire, Emily develops a relationship with Sam, and with a gift from the gods, they become expert lovers, which is enough fuel to wake the Queen of Heaven from her slumber in the center of the earth. Isis later calls upon Virgin Mary and Mary Magdalene to start a dandelion campaign to reinstate balance of creation. When Emily suggests Christ and Mary Magdalene jump down from a crucifix and a sculpture, the Christian icons are free to roam like teenagers in love. As they unite in Emily’s body, the Queen of Heaven is able to connect with God who reaches down and pulls her up from the underworld. Immensely serene and shocking, this debut is absolutely stunning!"

BookSurge

The Queen of Heaven has returned, and God has welcomed her back after their long separation.

I've been away from my blog for a while. I've been on an adventure with many chapters. It took me across the country and put 6000 extra miles on my small car. Leaving Chicago, I went west across the green plains, through the dry hot deserts and to the wet and misty Oregon coastline. From there I went south, along sacred mountains and through thick forests, before I again entered the desert as I watched in wonder how the landscape changed.

I ended up in the bed of dried lake. It's now called Black Rock Desert, since it hasn't seen water for a long time. Nevertheless, 50.000 enthusiastic souls came to this place for the Burning Man Festival. They brought their own water, along with a tireless desire to create something new. Thousands of tents and RV's came up, and they all disappered again, leaving no trace that there had once been a whole city there existing for only a week. A city with a post office, three clinics, a fire department, a central town square, bars and dancehalls, several temples and an effigy representing mankind visible for miles.

Some wanted to experience the freedom to have the biggest party in history. Bless their hearts, they got it. Some came to express their creativity in ways that would be hard to explain in the city. How do you tell your neighbors that you just have this urge to make your car look like a snail? Or that today you need to wear nylon furred boots, your best bikini and a utility belt? Well, at Burning Man, that outfit was almost common.
Some people came to show their artwork. Sculptures arrived on the flatbed of trucks and needed a crane to lift them off and place them carefully on the playa.
Some people came to create new solutions for the problems that ail our world. Burners without Borders were there, telling us where they'd been and where they were needed next. Entheon Village were making living spaces out of containers for trucks, experimenting with immediate housing for catastrophic situations. Temples were created to honor the many religions of our planet, and to welcome a New Day where we all could come to the same Temple in reverence.

I was part of the crew creating Pantheogenesis Temple. It was dedicated to the Male and Female side of creation, and ultimately to their Unification as One Deity. It consisted of seven different structures: two yurts, a tent garage, a tall dome, a small circus tent and a geodesic dome. The interior Male of a hundred people constructed the spaces. The interior Female of the same people gave the spaces different purpose and character. I watched, as these good people evolved from an expression of our society's conflicted interpretation of male and female, and turned into a new interpretation filled with respect and cooperation that could only be divinely inspired. The temple went through its stages as it created the different spaces starting with the Earth entrance, going through the Heart space before dividing into the Male and Female yurts, all decorated as people brought donated items. My favorite was the God and Godess dome with an elaborate throne for each aspect and chacra colored fabrics cascading down along its inside walls. I had the honor of sitting on the throne for the Goddess as I did my lecture on Mary Magdalene.

But I spent most of my time in the Unity Dome. Both because I was asked to help do textile draperies there, which is my other artform, and because it became my favorite place to be.
If you try to visualize the unity between the God and the Goddess of creation, what would it look like? I don't know if I really had any preconceived ideas, I just knew that the color theme was white, with gold and silver accents, and that I would get fabrics to work with.
I had been given eight small structures to drape. They were small tents attached to square bases intended for meditation, and were circling a large sculpture in white and small mirrors resembling a lotus. I started with some white sheers and placed it over the flexible poles creating the igloo shaped domes. Soon they had white sheer with golden swirls, and golden ties resembling the head gear of Arabian royalty. I got inspired, and hung white buntings along the walls hiding the ropelights. Lovely banners were placed, hanging down from the ceiling together with a large white balloon covered in shimmering tulle. One woman came in and said, "I wondered how we would bring in the Eye of God. See, there is the eyeball." I nodded.

For two days I placed safetypins through fabric, fastening fine silks to the rough metals holding up the geodesic dome and it's white plastic cover. White parachutes covered the sandy floor, in a futile attempt to keep the playa dust out. The more I worked, the more I felt that the space resembled a wedding reception. I giggled to myself. What were we creating? This was supposed to be the most serious space of the whole temple complex!

The answer collected itself through a day, when several people came and visited the dome. The first one was a rabbi, looking older than Metusalah, or rather like Santa Claus in tie-dye, who sat down in a meditation dome and read from a small ancient leather book. He explained to me that it was psalms from the Thalmud, and I invited him to bless the space. He walked between each of the eight units and sang his psalms. I listened in awe as I continued my work.
The next one was Soma from the Krishna camp. I had talked to him before, and invited him to bless the space from his tradition. The Buddhist songs sounded interstingly similar to the Jewish. A Tibetan singing bowl was carried into the dome, and I asked the young man to make it sing and give its frequency to the dome. A woman calling herself Rainbow Jaguar offered to do a Mayan blessing, which I welcomed. She intoned deep sounds and brought rattles and incense as she circled the dome several times making sure she established the right vibration. I learned later that the young man from New York with the disarming smile, was a Sufi master, and had blessed the space several times through out the day. I was glad to know that the Muslims were also represented. A young man dressed in the white robes of a Monk looked at me with eyes of blue velvet and asked with a voice full of love if he could bless the place as well. I'll never know what faith he came from, but it didn't matter. He emanated peace, and called himself Brown Rabbit.

When the photographer from India came, and asked permission to take pictures of a young couple inside the dome for their engagement pictures, I silently welcomed another blessing. The young man was dressed like a Temple Knight, and he seemed Celtic with his pale complection and long dark hair. The lovely young woman was like a daughter of Gaia herself. Everytime I looked at her, I saw another cultural strand in her hair, in her features and graceful movements. The photographer posed them, first for charming presentable pictures. Then he wanted to create something memorable just for them. I made myself blend in with my textiles, as I watched him place them both inside my first completed meditation dome in a tantric position. With the young man sitting crosslegged and the woman on his lap clasping her legs behind his back, I could see how their energy lines would match up and create an empowering unity between them. It would also balance their own chacras and make a moment of shared fireworks for them. I admired how the Hindu photographer gently suggested this, knowing that the Lingam is a holy symbol in his culture, and how the young couple easily complied, eager to learn something new. I stood on the sidelines, hoping I was invisible enough, and understood why the Unity Dome of the God and Godess resembled a wedding reception.

With blessings from all the religious traditions I could think of, the King and Queen of Heaven have now returned to their rightful places. Their special cloud in Heaven resembles a large white balloon covered in sheers, and the mists look like tulle with the golden glow from ropelights creating halos. Their throne is made from plywood cut in intricate patterns, and their backdrop has the colors of the rainbow, draped in flowing fabrics fastened with a safetypin to a point in space.

Wencke.

The pioneer spirit.

I'm on a journey that will culminate in the Burning Man Festival in Nevada. Right now I'm in the fresh air of Wyoming looking forward to admire the Grand Tetons tomorrow. I have many reasons for coming here. Old masters inhabit the mountains. I need to visit mine.

On my way from Illinois, I came across a museum dedicated to the first frontiers, the ones traveling in covered prairie wagons, ready to put a plow down in their own land and finally feed their families. The museum was in Nebraska. The building stretches like a covered bridge across the highway. Inside the classy log cabin, an escalator leads to the exhibits inside the bridge. On the way up, you meet the life sized figure of the pregnant prairie woman in her bonnet. Her eager son is scrambling up the hillside towards the father beckoning the visitors to come and see. Their daughter is sitting on a rock nibbling on an apple, reading a book with her cat in her elbow. Below, an explorer next to an Indian are watching, also wondering what story the father wants to share. All the figures are depicted with unusual sensitivity to detail and authenticity. I arrive at the top and feel I have met old friends.

Inside, we first see the struggling families behind their wagons. My headphones are speaking the words of the many women who wrote diaries from their experience. They buried their husbands and children and went on. They gave birth to new generations in a new country. The young girls talked about the prairie library; all the books that were left behind by the travelers who needed to lighten their load and reluctantly left precious volumes in neat stacks, hoping that somebody else would have strength and room to take them further. Young boys wrote about how family members died around them and suddenly they had to take on responsibilities way beyond their years. But they did, and they endured and they survived. And they built this country from the prairie grass up.

The railroad came. The pony express only lasted for eighteen months. Then a new form of information distribution took form; the telegraph. Not long after came the automobile and the chuck wagon got translated into round cornered diners in red and silver.

At first I was offended that these newfangled inventions were displayed right after the sensitive and beautiful description of the pioneers. Then I realized that all these things appeared right after each other in history. And each period lasted for a very short time. This young country was eager to expand, to learn, to bring in the new.

I took in the spirit of the pioneers, of the inventors and promoters of the train which changed the country with the same explosive speed as the impact of the Internet in our time. I felt the openness to new things, the hunger for the latest invention that could improve daily life.

Then I asked, where is this spirit now? What happened to the spirit of embracing the new, looking eagerly for the latest in new thought?

I'm traveling. In the cafeteria I see overweight, over TV stimulated people, who look kind and friendly, but I don't see the spark of new ideas in them. The "sparky" people might not be the ones coming to this museum, but I'm nevertheless looking for them. I need to know that they exist.

I've heard of new inventions that have been hindered from coming to the market or even to consumers attention. Inventions that would challenge us to understand the value of living with free energy, cars that run on compost, or refined metals that can cure anything.

I guess I'm still looking for material goods to prove that we're pioneers. If it can't be planted, or take you somewhere, what good is it?

As I went outside and walked among the prairie plants, it occurred to me that I was looking in the wrong arenas. Yes, these new inventions are important, and sooner or later most of them will come to our attention.

I suddenly understood that we're pioneers of a different kind. We are pioneers of spirit. Give it to America to come up with a new idea and implement it quickly, they've done it before, they'll do it again. The Goddess found a place to speak.
How heavy is your covered wagon? What odd combination of people travel with you? What are you bringing to share where you arrive? Are you the new blacksmith in town, or the schoolteacher? Or are you the one who knows how to heal the afflictions of modern life, the yoga teacher, the nutritionist? Or maybe you know how to hold more light, making it expand beyond your body, and watch the darkness disappear. There are many ways to contribute.

The goddess is returning, and she's speaking through all of us. A new band of pioneers are pulling wagons across the country. The weight of the wagons consists of old ideas, old grudges held for too long, narrow mindedness and family ghosts overdue to be exposed. Along the way to the land of plenty, the wagons get emptied of unnecessary baggage. The lighter wagons find their way first. Do you recognize yourself? Are we the A team returned?

I looked at the figure of the pregnant woman struggling with her skirts, and knew I had been her. I looked at the young boy, and knew I had been his mother. I looked at the girl with the book and knew I had been her. And I looked at the handsome explorer and knew I had invited him into my hut, and shared a meal and my bed with him.

I also know that I'm helping people in this complicated society we live in, people with a new attitude, with a new vision, embracing a new day. I'm also releasing a child of my creativity, which I hope will inspire new hope as we watch the first sun rays arrive over the mountain and we can one more time say Yes!

Yes. To a new time, to new thoughts, to a new era.
Hello A-team, I recognize you.

Wencke.