Sacred Ground

05: Chapter from the novel "In The Wake Of Chaos"

[This is Chapter 5 of my novel, “In The Wake Of Chaos.” I encourage you to go back and read the previous chapters already posted in order to get the full richness of this magical story.]

“a return to truth is emerging...”

It feels so good to take a time-out. Perhaps one might think that’s only for schoolchildren or spouses, but I highly recommend a self-imposed time-out on a regular basis. If for nothing else, just to stay sane.

Work was stressing me out more than I realized. And yet, I was only able to see it once I’d left my job. All of the news and social media chatter stresses me out as well.

There’s something to be said about checking out and going offline to unwind—and for spending time in nature to reconnect to the truth of what and who we are at the core.

After giving notice to Larry, who was quite cavalier about the whole thing, I took Allison up on her standing invitation to spend time with her in Boston.

Why not? I didn’t know what I wanted to do next, so a lazy layover in another city to gain clarity seemed perfect.

Besides, I was sorely in need of a breath of fresh air and secretly craved a visit to her grandma’s again so I could spend some quality time at my beloved Walden Pond.

For the first two weeks in Boston, I holed up at Allison’s apartment while she went to work. To be honest, I didn’t even venture out of the apartment except for a fresh juice or smoothie here and there. I was in hibernation I suppose.

But I did attend one yoga class. Yay for me! What did get me finally moving was her announcement that we were going to spend a long weekend up in Concord.

Hallelujah!

Friday could not come fast enough for me.

Overnight bags packed to the brim, we jumped in her cute little Mustang convertible, let the wind blow through our hair, and cranked up the music full blast for the short half hour drive up north. It’s easy to forget just how intoxicating the little things in life can be.

Nothing better than a clear blue-sky with the top down.

Once there, our first stop was the quaint little Colonial Inn for a late lunch and lemonade out on their patio. The first time we went there, I remember walking up the porch stairs out front, while this random person driving by shouted, “Don’t you know that place is haunted?”

My first thought was, “Wow, how awesome is that!”

Over the years, both Allie and I have had some rather strange, but interesting, occurrences there. Nothing to write a book about, but kinda cool just the same.

Concord is also home to the famed Sleepy Hallow cemetery featured in Grimm’s Fairy Tales. Although we haven’t seen a headless horsemen riding in the night yet, we have walked among the gravesites of distinguished authors from days gone by—such as Emerson, Thoreau, and Alcott.

Oh, the tales yet told that are buried in that soil.

Wonder if they’ll ever be written…

Did you know I haven’t read, or even seen, Little Women to this day. Wonder why that is? Maybe it’s because I’d rather see it called Powerful Women instead of Little.

After lunch, we made our way to Grandma Alice’s house and settled into our cute dainty rooms. Yep, you guessed it. All decorated in late 19^th century little ol’ lady style. It’s fun for a change of pace to be surrounded by ruffles and lace, and the oddly familiar smell of old perfume.

Time for hugs and kisses, plus tea and cookies.

Life doesn’t get much better than this.

Somewhat anxious though, I did want to slip away and get over to my pond for a twilight stroll—in an attempt to ground myself and get my equilibrium back.

Nature has a way of doing that for me.

Sensing my restlessness, Allie tossed me her keys, and said, “Go on now, grab some alone time. Just be sure to say ‘hi’ to old Walden for me.” We had a longstanding joke about a legendary hermit named Walden, who might still be hiding out somewhere in the forest surrounding the lake.

And, who knows, perhaps he is.

But just to be clear, we aren’t talking about the ghost of Thoreau, who did live alone in a cabin nearby for two years, two months, and two days—during a time when, arguably, he wrote his best literary piece of work back in the day. Was that in the mid-1800s? I’m not quite sure.

There is an interesting backstory on this though. Henry David Thoreau was not only a poet and philosopher, he was also Ralph Waldo Emerson’s handyman. He was the one to chop wood, cut grass, and tend the grounds and other items needing to be fixed around the house.

Now Emerson was in the habit of inviting a small group of great thinkers to his home for, what later became known as the Concord Conversations—private discussions held regularly in his graciously appointed front parlor. This was a gathering of individuals who tasked themselves to look into the deeper meanings of broad concepts and an expansion of what life is or has to offer its inhabitants.

They would partake in highly engaging conversations where each thought sparked another one from the group who then added something else to expand it even further.

From what I’ve heard it was quite remarkable.

If only I could have been a fly on one of those walls.

Thoreau hadn’t yet been included in the group but would hang out in the hallway just to listen in—since he was itching to participate. As such, Thoreau often couldn’t help himself and would speak out from the hallway asking a question here and there.

This annoyed Emerson, being his handyman and all, but the others, claiming Thoreau’s questions had been quite good and thought-provoking, persuaded Emerson to allow him to contribute his ideas.

Eventually, Thoreau was invited to be a regular part of this group. And at one such gathering, Emerson apparently said something to the effect of,

“If you want true wisdom, walk in the woods.”

Emerson often did this himself, and in the quiet of nature, claimed he could hear the whispers in the wind imparting great wisdom within his own thoughts.

He allowed eternal guidance and insights in this way. As the thoughts arrived, he’d quickly return to his study and write them down before they could slip away. It was an extraordinary experience which is probably why his writings were brought to an entirely new level.

When Emerson tapped into the energy force of nature, that’s when he found a strength beyond his own strength.

Similar in the way that Jesus said,

“When two or three are gathered, there I am.”

It’s where Emerson found a higher intelligence dwelling inside and found it to be stronger than the individual power of one’s own thoughts.

Thoreau was so inspired with this notion, that he asked Emerson, who also owned property around Walden Pond, if he could perform an experiment there. He wanted to build a one-room cabin and live there alone, so he could dive deeper into the experience of living in nature.

The solitude would provide him with the opportunity to have no distractions from the outside world—and to access this place that Emerson spoke of.

He agreed, and as mentioned before, Thoreau lived his experiment—for two years, two months, and two days. He lived in the cabin alone, and he took daily walks down to the pond, which proved to be very inspiring for him.

Shortly into this experiment, he realized in order to truly experience something new, he had to choose a different path to the water’s edge each day. Otherwise, the walks would become stagnant. And so, it’s been told, he received great wisdom during this self-imposed hibernation.

Again, this is where he conceivably wrote his best stuff. In fact, after reading Thoreau’s work, Einstein, as a very profound thinker himself, would realize,

“I don’t have a greater mind, I just have a better connection to it than most.”

This awareness lifted Einstein to an entirely new level of understanding. And, in my opinion, each of us can also move into this greater standard of comprehension—it’s a gift we’ve been given going back again to the time of Jesus and before. And even though we all have this ability, many of us either block it or aren’t open to this kind of guidance.

Why?

Quite frankly, because most often we can’t figure out how to activate this power from within on our own.

Emerson figured it out, Thoreau and Einstein did too, and the three of them were able to demonstrate such a fully expressed life while they were living in the flesh.

This is the kind of stuff that lights me up.

So much we don’t know…

We can learn a lot just by walking in the woods and listening to the voices found in nature. Uncle Mark also talks about this. He too has been able to personally tap into nature in this way—and has gone on to do some pretty amazing things because of it. He didn’t spend two years and two months alone, but he’s been able to tap into the same sacred vibrational knowledge, and it’s remarkable how this has transformed his own life experience.

I agree with both Emerson, Thoreau, and as well as Uncle Mark. A walk in the woods, especially here at Walden Pond, is a highly recommended mystical experience.

Exactly what I’m looking for—a little bit of magic.

After thoroughly being disillusioned with the whole journalism thing in general, and politics in particular, I could sure use a reboot in terms of my career and in terms of the direction I want to pursue next.

A little help please?

It didn’t take me long before I heard the whispers.

Despite the crickets revving up for the night.

As soon as I got there and sat next to the water’s edge, thank God, that inner voice I endearingly call “my muse” began to softly whisper in my ear,

“The answers you seek are all around you. Look in nature and see how perfectly this world operates.”

So grateful am I—my muse is back!

And happy that I’d slipped my journal into my backpack. Either by habit, or by foresight, I’m glad I did. It will be good to capture some inspired writings again.

Okay, Miss Muse, let’s get our game on.

Sitting there for what seemed like hours, basking in the writings and awareness that all is well—despite outward appearances that made it seemed so untrue.

Funny how that can happen.

It was as if wild horses could not pull me away.

Random notes.

Absorbing nature in its fullest measure. Drinking in the cool air and relishing in the silence that wrapped its arms around me, my entire body relaxed as I took baby steps towards a return to peace.

After some time, and guided by the full moon’s light, I walked along a well-worn path to where Allie’s convertible was parked and marveled at the beauty of this night. Crickets kept weaving their rhythmic songs into the air and much to my delight fireflies bopped here and there.

Fireflies are magic.

Oh, how my soul has missed this place.

Content with the healing I’d received, I turned on the ignition, let the top roll down, then made my way back, up and over the hills “to grandma’s house” I returned.

No doubt, I will sleep exceptionally well tonight. The power of nature nurtures my spirit, and I greatly appreciate its mystical qualities. I so love the magic in the air.

And the fireflies too…

The next morning after a great night of sleep, Allie told me that Grandma Alice had received some great news.

Over a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, and biscuits, the two of them excitedly filled me in on the details of a phone conversation she’d had with an old friend who lives by herself in a beautiful estate near Walden Pond.

Her name was Clarissa, and evidently, she decided it was time to rent out the small carriage house that sits above her garage and is separate from the main living quarters.

But only to someone she deems special.

Grandma Alice assured her she had the perfect person in mind and quickly set a time for us all to meet later in the afternoon.

Wow!!

I wasn’t expecting anything as brilliant as this to open up for me—and so quickly. Must be doing something right.

Isn’t it funny, when we surrender to life and embrace the unknown without having a clue as to what’s next, great things seem to appear out of nowhere?

And, with little or no effort I might add.

Grandma Alice assured us Clarissa would simply love me, and that it’s practically a done deal.

I held onto that idea for the remaining hours leading up to our prearranged meeting later that afternoon—and when the three of us would make our way over to her estate.

Double wow!!

Even I was impressed.

Over the years, I have been blessed to travel in many different circles. Between my friends, their families, my journalistic political circles, and through Uncle Mark, who always had me mingle with his entertainment, music, and celebrity friends, I’d seen some pretty awesome homes.

But to say Clarissa’s grand estate was anything short of magnificent, would surely be an understatement.

With more than five acres of wooded bliss, including a lazy stream meandering throughout the entire property which fed two separate ponds, I felt like I was truly home among the trees. And that was even before we came up to the main house, let alone before I saw the place that might be claimed as my own.

Not usually at a loss for words, I got out of the car and followed both Allison and Grandma Alice to the front entrance steps with my jaw practically hitting the ground.

Seconds later, the beautiful stained-glass door opened, and we were greeting Clarissa herself—as she ushered us in through the grand entryway and on towards the great room where we would sit and chat for a short while.

Grand? Great?

Holy cow!

What struck me first was her quiet presence and grace. It was as if I’d been transported back to the time of the Great Gatsby, or even to when William Randolph Hearst occupied his grand palace—an estate later known as Hearst Castle, just three hours north of Los Angeles and along the coast where the glitz and glamor of Hollywood liked to hang out.

Not only was Clarissa graceful, but she possessed an aura of intense wisdom, which swirled around her as she glided across the travertine tiled foyer and gently settled down in an oversized stuffed chair next to the baby grand piano.

After a few informal pleasantries exchanged between her and Grandma Alice, Clarissa looked my way and asked me to tell her a little bit about myself.

I managed to share my story, what I’d been up to since college, and what I was looking for next—despite the feeling of transcending my body in a strange way.

Bottom line? I was looking for a quiet place to heal my nervous system and gather my thoughts.

Not being able to discern her initial reaction, all four of us went on to make a few more incidental comments about the weather and other such polite remarks, when she asked if we’d like to view the carriage house.

My yes may have been a bit too eager, but I could hardly contain my excitement to see what it was like.

Allison and Grandma Alice seemed to agree.

If the grounds, or her great room and grand entrance, were any indicator, I’m sure I would love everything else.

The three of us proceeded to follow Clarissa down the long hallway, past the dining room, kitchen and a second staircase that gave us a glimpse of the beautiful stained-glass windows featured midway up the landing. Noticing my lingering appreciation, Clarissa said they were a favorite of the architect who designed the home, Frank Lloyd Wright.

Wow. Even I know of him.

He’s that famous.

We went to a side door that led to a large, detached garage, then took the circular steps on up to the quarters directly above. Each of us followed her through the double doors and entered the magical space I might soon be calling home. It was as if time stood still.

Of course, the carriage house was perfect!

Listening to Clarissa’s comments as we viewed the living room and kitchen, the bath and dressing area, as well as the walk-in closet near the comfy four-poster bed, her voice was more like beautiful music playing in the background.

Lovely as that was.

However, the part that struck me most, was how I felt while walking throughout the space. It was a beautiful sense best described as “coming home.”

And not just a place in which to live.

But a state of being.

Again, it was as if time were standing still.

I don’t know how long we were there. It could have been minutes, or hours—there’s no way for me to know. Yet, what I did know, was that this definitely is where I was supposed to be. Hopefully, Clarissa thought so too.

Later that evening, after Allie and I finished cleaning up the kitchen, we heard the phone ring in the living room. Yes, just like my mom, Grandma Alice still used a landline too.

“Hello?” she said. “Why yes, I’ll certainly let Madison know. Thank you for taking the time with us today. It was our pleasure too. Take care.”

And that was it.

Short, sweet, and from what I could tell, no indication whether it might be a yes or a no. Allison took one look at me, and we both bolted to the room where Grandma Alice was still fiddling with the phone and trying to put the receiver back on its cradle.

“Well?” Allison blurted out.

“What did she say?” I chirped in.

Grandma Alice looked directly at me with a warmth hard to describe. “She said, Madison is the one. She’d love for her to live in her carriage house.”

It’s hard to describe, but the big, long breath I let out next told the entire story—for me at least.  How exciting is this? I could hardly wait to tell my mom the great news. And it certainly was great news. Leaving my job in D.C. and taking the carriage house near Walden Pond seemed to be the “best thing since sliced bread.”

Seriously.

Well, that’s what mom would say, and I don’t even like eating bread very much. Unless of course it’s cornbread.

The next few days seemed like a whirlwind of activity, and even before I could click my heels together three times like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, there I was firmly planted in the most gorgeous of settings and calling it my new home.

The transition seemed effortless.

How does it get any better than this?

I’m glad you asked.

Not rushing into anything else, I began spending many hours at Walden Pond seeking solace in the woods.

It is my happy place.

No secret, but it had been so hard reclaiming my inner muse again, especially in the wake of the recent election and the chaos that followed. For far too long, I’d been following threads of negative news and even worse yet, tumbling down the rabbit holes of conspiracy theories and lies.

Conspiracy theories?

Well, you can’t blame me. I am an investigative journalist. So, it’s my job. And while doing that research, I discovered a growing secret sect of people who thoroughly believed Donald Trump was actually ordained by God to save them from the corruption they saw in the world!

Really?

How weird is that?

My aim as a journalist, is always to have a solid ethical core, the highest integrity, and to earn trust in order to be successful. Stated another way, fairness, objectivity, and honesty are the three main factors I must include in every story I write. That is what I strive to do.

And so, “high ho, high ho…down the rabbit holes I go.

Why? Because I want to know the truth.

It’s important to me.

So much so, that quite often, I re-question my own beliefs. “Am I on the wrong side of this issue? Is there more to know about this than I do now? What if I were on the other end of this idea, what would I believe then?” I once heard, “When you think you know everything, you know very little.” That’s a solid piece of insight to follow.

Gratefully, I now enjoy the luxury of time to reflect on my personal beliefs and what I’ve learned in life so far. I now make it a daily habit to go sit beside the water’s edge, or walk in the woods near the pond, to ask questions, of no one in particular, about life and my part to play in it.

At first nothing came through.

Once again, only crickets.

None of the answers I sought were showing up. But, not one to give up, I kept seeking a greater understanding of the circumstances we now live in and what might lie ahead. Hours turned into days—days turned into weeks.

Good things come to those who wait, right?

Then finally, not since that first day after returning to my beloved Walden’s Pond, divine whispers softly began to seep into the cracks of pain I’d endured, and the glimmers of hope started to re-emerge.

Praise be to that higher power.

I’d always known all answers lie within nature.

By sitting firmly in this unwavering belief, I knew if I could just steal away enough minutes to tap into this wisdom—an intelligence that’s available to all who seek its knowledge—I’d find a new and fresh perspective. And most especially, a way out of the grief that was claiming my life. Then I could return to how I once knew it to be.

Now, hopefully it wouldn’t take me two years, two months and two days to do so. I know I have patience, but that’s a really long time. Too long for me.

During this self-imposed rejuvenation sojourn, I rarely caught a glimpse of Clarissa coming or going. But, after what seemed like forever to me, I did receive a lovely handwritten invitation to have tea with her in the main part of the house later that week.

What a pleasant surprise!

In prep for our visit, I of course did a bit of research, and discovered Clarissa, despite being an apparent recluse, is a well-respected, international bestselling author under the pen name of Agatha Gates.

How cool is that?

Thinking the name was familiar, and not just because it was so close to Agatha Christie, I dug deeper online. Much to my delight, my mother also confirmed this.

Apparently, Clarissa was a big deal in the literary world and a prolific author as well—now that’s right up my alley.

I need to catalogue that interesting bit of information.

That same week, Allison gave me a lead on a job-related position posted at an emerging digital magazine company, which was based in Boston and founded by her older brother’s best friend—uh oh, this sounds familiar. As in my old boyfriends best friend?

But again, it would be intriguing to ponder.

When it rains, it pours.

Or that’s what they say at least.

And so, the same day as my tea with Clarissa, I was also set to interview that morning for the position of podcast journalist and on-air personality with Derrick Daniels, the owner of RZRCK Magazine.

Again, I did a little online detective work.

Derrick graduated from the prestigious Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania, just like Elon Musk and Warren Buffet, as well as Donald and Ivanka Trump.

Ewe, let’s just forget those last two.

Upon further digging, Derrick was a notable “30 Under 30” success story. As the charismatic founder of RZRCK Magazine, he’d landed in the spotlight not only as a big success in the media industry, but also as an extra handsome and highly regarded eligible bachelor.

Oh boy, mom will love that one.

Better study up on the art of podcasting if I wanted to make a good impression. As for the magazine, it is known best for its innovative digital news stories, and I’m delighted to report that its mission statement states, “Our aim is to resurrect the truth.”

Again, how does it get any better than this?

Carpe diem.

A match made in heaven. I’d be no less surprised if the magazine was actually called Carpe Diem, but RZRCK is kind of quirky, like me, and fits my style to a tee. Even their tagline “resurrect the truth” assures me of an alignment with my core values. Double yay!!

As it turns out, the interview couldn’t have gone any better, and Derrick said to expect a call in the next couple of days with an offer to consider. What a great start to what I’d later recognize as a pivotal point in my career, and for that matter, my life as well.

It was the 22^nd of the month.

An auspicious day—and my lucky number.

I got back from the city, just in time to freshen up for my tea date with Clarissa. Knowing she most likely is the punctual type, I surely didn’t want to be late. Hyper-excited, I had so many questions for her. Haha, that journalistic animal in me cannot be contained. Nope, not today.

Being careful not to impose, I went around to the front door to announce my arrival. Again, it seemed like only seconds later she was greeting me with a warm smile.

Does she always hover near the door, or does she have a unique ability to teleport herself from one part of this massive estate to another? Or maybe she’s just psychic.

I honestly didn’t know.

Once we were inside and comfortably seated at a quaint table in her tearoom, I glanced around. Beautiful, and yet so very understated in a classic kind of way.

Clarissa proceeded to pour us tea and asked if I wanted to pick out one or two of the goodies, she’d so elegantly arranged. On a silver platter with linen doilies no less. Her attention to detail was over the top adorable.

Once we both had our tea and crumpets, Clarissa said, “Before we go any further, let me read you something,” as she picked up a small book off the table.

“Dorothy Thompson wrote this,” she continued. “If you aren’t familiar with her, like you, she too was an American journalist. She was also a radio broadcaster, who back in 1939 was recognized by Time Magazine as the second most influential woman in America, next to Eleanor Roosevelt. So, you two may have some things in common.” Well, that certainly piqued my interest as she began to read out loud,

“Only when we’re no longer afraid, do we begin to live. There is nothing to fear except the persistent refusal to find out the truth, the persistent refusal to analyze the causes of happenings. It is not the fact of liberty but the way in which liberty is exercised that ultimately determines whether liberty itself survives. Fear grows in darkness; if you think there's a bogeyman around, turn on the light. Age is not measured by years. Nature does not equally distribute energy. Some people are born old and tired while others are going strong at seventy. The most destructive element in the human mind is fear. Fear creates aggressiveness. When liberty is taken away by force, it can be restored by force. When it is relinquished voluntarily by default, it can never be recovered. The only force that can overcome an idea and a faith, is another and better idea and faith, positively and fearlessly upheld. Peace has to be created, in order to be maintained. It will never be achieved by passivity and quietism. The instinct to worship is hardly less strong than the instinct to eat.”

My first reaction was, what a thought-provoking piece. My second thought was, why is Clarissa reading this to me? What an interesting, yet odd, thing to do.

This led to a great conversation and a getting to know more about each other occasion, where we literally both lost track of time. It wasn’t until I glanced outside to see a darkened sky that I realized just how late it had gotten.

Not wanting to overstay my welcome, I thanked her profusely and made my way back to the carriage house. This time, taking the shorter route through the side door.

Lying comfortably in my oversized, fit for a princess, canopy bed, I finally had a chance to reflect on the most phenomenal of days. How amazing is it to begin this new chapter of my life story? And how grateful am I to finally close the last one which turned out to be so miserable.

For me at least.

The opportunity with RZRCK Magazine was looking great, and there’s no doubt an offer to join their team will be just as awesome as the interview was. Plus, the challenge to learn both a different format and enter the world of podcasting felt new and exciting. I even suspect I’ll have a knack for doing it. And it’ll give me the chance to express myself in a much more personal way than before.

Derrick put it like this.

Podcasts are a great avenue to find new audiences using an equal mix of current events and news, commentary, and personal stories—and in a format that the culture-vultures are devouring up in record numbers.

But I wonder.

Can this increasingly popular venue truly be defined as journalism? Not one to fall for passing fads, will I be taken as seriously as I’d want?

It looks like I’ll have the opportunity to find out. Even so, I will draw from the standards of journalism and the training I already possess. But it’ll be somewhat different since podcasters are able to embrace a casual tone and style—while at the same time defining themselves with intimacy and connection.

Sounds both refreshing and challenging.

Bring it on!!

Oh, what a great day I’ve had.

Miraculous in fact.

And the bonus of establishing a closer bond with my “too cute for words” landlord is simply the icing on the cake. As it turns out, this will be the first of many “tea-time” conversations with Clarissa. She mentioned in parting, “We have slipped easily into a comfortable friendship here. I look forward to having more of these chats.”

I do too.

My biggest hope is that our relationship grows into one of spiritual mentorship, and one that encourages looking for the deeper truths as to what is going on beyond what only eyes can see. Clarissa seems like someone who can guide me along that path. She seems to have a deep sense of what’s really going on in this world.

Life is good.

And getting better with each new day.

“True wisdom and divinity lives within the deepest parts of your soul. Breathe this in and water the dreams you desire. All is possible when you surrender to this union.”

- a message from Y’shua

[Continue reading Maddie’s complete story “In The Wake Of Chaos” as each chapter is released…see the “Previous” & “Next” tabs right under the Like/Share bubbles below]