“My job is to awaken the soul into the soul realm, so you can have heaven while you’re on earth.” John-Roger, DSS.
Chamonix, France | Day 3 | September 17
Today is packed full of adventures in Chamonix France as we head up the Aiguille du Midi Mountain 12,605 feet at the top! The name “Aiguille du Midi” translates as Needle of the Mid-day, and it has been suggested that this may be because the sun appears over the summit around noon when viewing from one of the town’s churches.
We take turns filling up cable cars and sail thru the air to the top of the mountain. The breathtaking views and fresh crisp air hit us as we step out of the cable cars as the sunshine basks upon us. We have stepped into Heaven. We arrived at the first level of approximately 6100 feet. Many of us head off to take pictures of the panoramic views. Shortly we take a 5-minute hike into the mountains. The views are stunning!! The air is crisp, fresh and having a warm jacket this brisk morning is required. John takes sharing and as I am listening to John with the mountain background the image of the sermon on the mount shows up. John blesses the day and we go further on the path for a 15-minute hike to a beautiful, pristine glacial lake. We all take in the fresh mountain with great appreciation.
It is time to travel back down the mountain, and walk to the train station and head to Montenvers Mer De Glace. We take a brisk walk throught the town to take a train ride up Montenvers Mer De Glace. As we wait at the train station, all of a sudden out of the thick trees we get our first glimse of the bright red train number 44. It is so beautiful. I am so delighted to take a ride on this train. It is the authentic cars from when the trains were built. All aboard and we ride for 25 minutes up the mountain to arrive at the Glacier. The views are out of this world and truly heavenly. Many walk about the area taking in photos and some adventuresome folks head down to the 480 stairs to go into the ice caves.
Now it is free time and we all meander our way back to the hotel one way or the other, we meeting up with John for a group meeting followed by a group dinner.
In Loving Service,
Love and Light Julie
Touring Videos Day 3
Touring Photos by David Sand
Scroll down to the bottom to read David Sand’s travelogue on Day 3.
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From David Sand on Day 3:
Well it sure is beautiful. Not just beautiful—it’s perfect. I ask one of the other staff people where the real people live. Perfect mountains, perfect little villages with perfect windowboxes full of perfectly kept flowers. The highway rest stop we visit has fresh juices and homemade pastries, gourmet sandwiches on baguettes, crème brulée and gelato, meats cooked to order and displayed as they would be in the finest butcher shop. I ask people whether we’re in a top restaurant in the U.S. or a highway rest stop in Switzerland. If you flew someone in blindfolded they wouldn’t be able to tell.
It reminds me of the Talking Heads song called “Heaven”:
“The band in heaven, they play my favorite song.
They play it again. They play it all night long.
Heaven…heaven is a place…a place where nothing ever happens.”
I wrote about the frictionless-ness of the gorgeous country hotel where we stayed in Spain. This is beyond frictionless. It’s a perpetual motion machine made out of humans. It’s positively otherworldly. People come here basically to ignore gravity—to glide down mountains on skis or to climb vertical, inaccessible pinnacles. It seems like the rest of the time they hang out in cafes eating perfect food. You’re either disobeying gravity and friction or you’re experiencing a fearless and floating pleasure. The shops sell perfectly fashionable outdoor clothes and lots of the latest footgear for your hikes and climbs, as though how you interact with the earth is one of the only dilemmas that you will face here, and it has to be done with as much precision, weightlessness and style as possible, At least there was some graffiti in the Spanish countryside. The germs and bugs here are killed by the crystalline cold, an invisible combined nursing and cleaning crew that sails in at night or in the wintertime like Hollywood white-clad angels. It’s no wonder this is the home of the Red Cross. Are there any poor people here? Maybe we’re all really dead and we’ve gone to some higher level. Please, if you’re reading this in the U.S., let me know if you’ve been informed that I died. I can’t really tell.
This weightlessness is heightened by the Traveler energy, which John said was being ramped up in our meeting last night, and I can feel it. I’m really getting pulled out of my body. I couldn’t get out of bed to go to the fondue restaurant tonight. Do I need to eat anymore? Maybe I’m not dead but I’ve just become a breatharian. Even the staff on our trip is perfectly efficient and polite, as though there’s no place that can hold any kind of coarseness here. The weather has been perfect, too—unusually warm and sunny. We’ve been busing to the little mountain towns of Chamonix and Zermatt. John takes us up in cable cars to high points just under the peaks of Mont Blanc and the Matterhorn to do seminars or blessings, against a perfect mountainous backdrop where clouds and snow intertwine in white. Maybe in order to disguise our death we’re all being filmed against a green screen with CGI mountains added later on.
That phrase “Well, it sure is beautiful” has a familiar ring to it. I realize that it’s something J-R said to me once when I was just starting to do graphics. I was getting an approval on some artwork and he said that the design I did was “reversed”—it was opposite from the way it actually appeared in Spirit. Then he added, “But it sure is beautiful,” in a tone that was ever-so-slightly sardonic. That’s always stuck with me as a big key—something can be beautiful down here but also a misrepresentation, and I have to be discerning, to pay more attention to the inner essence than to beautiful forms.
Sometimes I get a whiff of temptation and inertia lurking under the gratifying ethereality. I wouldn’t really want to be here without the spiritual purpose and energy. It’s a way to tell if I’m going up or down, or getting lost in the merging of the snow and clouds. It’s a lifeline to keep me floating above the floating, a life jacket for a life jacket. I realize that when I did the artwork for the trip, I put a second, less substantial mountain behind the main mountain. Now I understand why I did that.