Intention:
“I now connect to the sacred Stargate of Machu Picchu, keeper of ancient wisdom and cosmic alignment.”
High in the Andes, where clouds kiss the rugged peaks and condors circle the sky, you begin your journey. The stone path beneath your feet is cool and damp with morning mist. Each step upward is a whisper in time, echoing with the footfalls of those who walked before—the seekers, the mystics, the guardians.
Your breath deepens as you ascend the misty stone steps of Machu Picchu. Moss clings to the walls like ancient script, and the tracks of a long-forgotten hunter beast are etched faintly into the earth. The air holds a scent of wild herbs and sacred smoke, as though some ceremony lingers unseen.
As the sun crests the jagged horizon, its first golden rays burst forth, illuminating the stone city in a wash of divine brilliance. The light pierces through your chest like an arrow of love, sending golden light through your heart. You pause. Breathe. The pulse of this land beats within you.
At last, you reach the Inti Punku – the Sun Gate, where a spiraling emerald vortex shimmers, suspended between the realms of Earth and Sky. Its energy hums with sacred resonance. As you approach, the wind begins to murmur in an inky drift, carrying words that seem not to be spoken, but remembered:
“Confess not your sins, but your soul’s longing.”
“Seek not power, but truth.”
“You are not lost—you are returning.”
You step through the vortex and time dissolves. Suddenly, your vision blurs and reforms. Before you, Incan priests draped in gold chant in rhythmic tones that stir something deep within. You see the glint of a relic held high—a radiant crystal shaped like a sunburst, humming with holy magic. Their eyes lock with yours, and in a flash, you remember: you were one of them.
The scene shifts. You stand in a golden temple, beneath a ceiling painted with stars—not as they are seen from Earth, but as they are known from the cosmos. A figure of light, neither male nor female, places their hand upon your chest. A flood of images crashes into you: lifetimes upon lifetimes, galaxies, oaths made under moons you do not yet know, and the echo of your original self—whole, eternal, sovereign.
You are shown a path through the ages. Your soul, like a river, drifted through incarnations—sometimes a teacher, sometimes a healer, sometimes a warrior watching the beast in the dark. And now, here, in this lifetime, you have returned to remember.
With tears in your eyes, you whisper to the wind:
“I remember.”
And the land answers:
“Welcome back, Child of the Stars.”
The vortex pulses once more. The vision fades, but the feeling remains. Something ancient has awakened. As you walk back down the stone steps, the mountain no longer feels like a place, but a living being—a temple, a mirror, a Stargate of Soul Memory and Heart Activation.
Thank-you for reading.
Much Love and Light,
Brenda Marie
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