Zereish Cubazoak

꧁⎝Showing Each Other the Way⎠꧂ When convoluted pieces of a puzzle come together, yet fail to connect in a way that makes any rational sense, I go to the master. Aya, incarnated now as Judith, can make sense of anything. Bits and pieces of dreams and peculiarities culminated in a remembrance of sorts that was still too far away to be remembered, so I brought it before the feet of the goddess with humility and care: 🌀 The recurring dreams in which I stood among the mesas, cliff faces and valleys, or even in the rocky mountains and wept, because the people who once lived there (the ancestors of the present-day Hopi, Zuni, and other puebloan tribes) were gone, and I did not know where 🌀 The understanding in these dreams that there were people with technology living right beneath my feet, experiencing lives which I yearned for, but could not cross the bridge 🌀 Being cocooned within the belly of the Earth alongside sleeping Souls, in a place dark but comforting, snug and secure, a holding place of sorts for those who were "dead", but not-dead, and merely in a place of rest before emergence dawned and we would finally be able to "wake up again" 🌀 the confounding hatred I felt at first for the heat and hostile desert of Arizona, which was nothing like the cool trees and rural beauty of Ohio, while coming to view this place as a long-lost home I'd forgotten for a while. I had grown up with a Soul yearning for the indigenous communities I would never meet until 2021, and should have had no interest in. Why was it the early peoples of the southwest I was drawn to? I knew of them as the Anasazi, and the name stayed with me. When Floyd Red Crow Westerman guest-starred on the X-Files [the first TV show I was obsessed with], he said that the name Anasazi meant "ancient aliens". Of course, this was fiction, and he was not suggesting that the Anasazi were literally aliens, but the focus seemed to be on the so-called disappearance of the Anasazi people themselves, and when researching this later, I would learn two things: the first being that Westerman's line in the show was actually very clever, because one of the agreed-upon meanings for the word "Anasazi" actually can be "ancient aliens", but in the sense of strangers to a new land; and the second being that the Anasszi never disappeared at all. Instead, they migrated, and their descendants are alive as the Hopi & related peoples whose Souls Pleiadians explain incarnate here primarily from Electra and Merope. The ancient cities built into cliffs may be uninhabited now, but I felt as if I "knew" them, because at some point in time, I had been there. How could it be possible for me to feel as if the kiva, the sacred "sipapu" (portal), and the emergence stories from the first, second, and third worlds into the current 4th World in which the Hopi say we live now, feel so 'familiar' to me if they weren't part of my culture? If I had no blood relation to these people, why did my Soul tell me I should still be among them? Why did my grandmother, quiet and dignified, insist upon living only in homes in the southwest, seeking out turquoise jewelry directly from indigenous curators, and ensuring that the first piece of jewelry I owned was a silver turquoise wristlet fitted perfectly to a baby's wrist? Was she among them too? As it turns out, many of us were among them, and we did not necessarily incarnate. In my case, I came in my true form: as the higher Self, Wiokish, of Celaeno. During times when it was normal for Pleiadians & other Elogim to walk among early humans as friends and teachers, I apparently did just that, and so did many of you. I came to assist, to help, to share Light. Look to the locations of BASK, Sedona, Montezuma's Well, and the Haven of Light. The people call this land "sacred", because they vowed that they, too, would always remember. We are our ancestors. They are us, and we are them. Thank you, Aya of Ameka. My Soul remembers, even if I don't.🌀