In 2017 I finally made my way to Kura Tawhit, Castle Hill, a place sacred to the Waitaha people who lived in the Canterbury region for generations before the European colonists arrived. I had wanted to get there for an equinox or a solstice since Freddy Silva had identified an enormous serpentine ley line that passed through the site and around the globe, striking through places like Rapa Nui, Tiwanaku, Bolivia in 2008 at a lecture here in Wellington. As it is with all energetic invitations from spirit, it was the perfect time for me to arrive there, and my experience was life -changing.
It was raining in Christchurch when I drove out of the city towards the site, and when I got to the foothills of the road leading into the Arthur’s Pass the cloud cover on that 21st March (autumnal equinox in the southern hemisphere) day lifted and I was graced with a 27-degree day in the mountainous region of the site. It was like arriving in another country. I could see the gloomy cloud hover to the east of my destination, but it never made its way into the pass. I walked from my car barefoot (there was a clairaudient moment where I heard, ‘walk barefoot and follow the sound of my voice.’ I did as I was told) and as I approached the monolithic giant that graces the entrance onto the site proper, I was told to walk to the right. To the left and above me were hundreds of people, to the right, there was no one. I walked over the limestone, roughing up my soft feet (feeling no pain as I did) feeling the power of the radiance of the heat emanating from the rock. I scaled up the side of some monolithic size boulders and then eventually made my way to the summit of Kura Tawhit where I was alone, away from the hordes to the south-east of me.
Here I set intentions on that still day, standing on rocks, facing towards Castle Hill Village, and after every intention, a gust of wind would scythe up the valley and rush over me. There was no wind that day, not a zephyr. This was a paranormal experience. It wasn’t wind that washed over me, it was spirit, hearing me, answering me, bestowing upon me the gifts that I had asked for in timelines that have since taken place, here and in the multi-dimensional levels of existence of consciousness. Knowing when it was time to leave, I took mine, and then returned to a drizzling Christchurch. The next day I was drawn to Lyttleton, and at the Coffee Company, saw the sight that inspired the short story, Witness. It would take me two years to discover her name, but she was an amalgamation of some of the most beautiful women I had been lovers with, but most importantly, I recognised her resonance. She had the same resonance as Kura Tawhiti. I wrote her a poem that day, gave it to her anonymously and slipped out of the cafe, went home and was inspired to write the short story Witness, that I returned to give to her in 2019, and have added Witness to the short story collection, The Dream of the Flower Sermon, which I will publish later this year/early 2021.
I’ve returned to Kura Tawhiti since, felt its changing confluence as we move through into another energetic epoch, and marvelled at its ability to be a portal for the vivacities that have brought me to where I am now. The wave is long, and I’m riding its peaks and troughs as I feel the draw to go back again, and perhaps be graced by the presence of Tessa once more.