Remembering Tartaria

Sharing some of my Tartarian experiences

The sun was setting over the city, touching everything with soft, gold light. People bustled about, their footsteps echoing against the cobblestones. Some were rushing to get home before night fell. Others seemed to be on their way to a celebration. I followed behind them, curious to see where they were going.

Do you know Tartaria too? Have you also seen it?

The flower markets bursting with colors and sweet fragrances. Rose, lilac, geranium. The buildings tall and majestic, gilded details catching the last rays of sunlight. The winding rivers, like ribbons of light. The lakes serene and still, their glassy surfaces reflecting all the beauty.

I heard someone say, “Are you coming to the dance?"

"Of course!" came the reply. “I wouldn't miss it for the world!”

The crowd moved forward, and seemed to carry me with it. The air was filled with scents. Freshly baked bread, mingling with vanilla, pomade, burning cedar wood. Garlic, tarragon, cinnamon. Cigar smoke curling into the twilight air.

You know Tartaria, even if you don't believe you do.

Tartaria is a fleeting feeling, a sensation like butterfly whispers. Elusive, intangible. Glimpsed. All our lives we've sensed it.

A different world just beyond reach. An intuition that lingers on the edge of our consciousness. A dream that we can never quite remember upon waking. Tartaria is an emotion that cannot be put into words.

I found Tartaria by asking Spirit to show me and meditating on my upper chakras before sleep. I found Tartaria and understood I'd always Known. Tartaria had always been with me. It was never lost.

I arrived at the square.

The sun had set now, and a rich darkness had settled on the air. An elegant marble fountain stood in the center of the square. Water danced, flowed, reflected the amber streetlights.

A group of dancers had gathered. The women wore colorful gowns, and their hair was woven with flowers. The men were dressed in tailored suits and tall hats.

Someone rang a bell and silence settled on the crowd. Then, a violin began to play a sweet, poignant melody. Soon, other musicians joined in. Drums. Small guitars and golden flutes. Clapping and stomping feet in time.

The dance began. Swirling, dipping, turning. The dancers moved with grace and fluidity as if time had deepened and slowed. Faces flushed with joy. Eyes sparkling like stars in the night.

"Come, join us!" they called out to the onlookers, their hands extended in invitation.

A young woman dressed in a yellow tunic hesitated at the edge. "I don't know the steps."

"There's nothing to it," reassured a young man, taking her hand. "Just follow the rhythm and let your heart lead the way."

As the night passed, the air thrummed with music and soft voices. Tales were shared, laughter echoed. My memories of the Fallen Timelines melted away under the moonlit sky.