Published in Global Inner Visions Magazine
Serpentia Iambica

The serpent mound was drawing me, making dreams into me, making me guess how my friend Incantor's land in Tennessee could mystify both time and space, detection and myself. It was trying to make me what Incantator wanted me to be, a serpent priestess of his dreams, of ancient times folded in on inner times, looked down upon by sudden, startling heads of dragons coming through his roof. I wished that I could dream myself into the past, if I had other lives as priestesses, just peek my head in. I thought they formed this incarnation, rogue priestess off the lineage. Solar Order of the Hummingword Tree. I could hold those lives above me like the branches of the tree of sound, the vibration tree that laughed the zany laugh of god. I could let those lives above me shine down onto people I that lifted up into their higher branches of themselves. I could laugh and shine my students and the priests. They found new branches of themselves to climb on. The trunk of the Tree sometimes became a serpentine, a Kundalini life force serpent aching upwards, longing for the sun atop the tree, the snake of life on fire with brilliance, ready to become the radiance of the source of pain and our joy.

But what about that serpent in our spines? What about that rare and jewellike Kundalini sparkling from the ages past, from stories told to Hindus in the nether regions of their minds, transmissions from the Nagas? The Nagas, serpent people, hybrids of the lizard people who invaded from the stars, and the early stirrings of humanity, toiling, hot and strong, their slow stares unaware of all that could occur. Civilizations and religions built to honor Nagas, put the Naga priests in power, worship Naga kings, say those not born as hybrid reptile gods had once committed crimes in other lives. If they obeyed, they'd gain admittance in new lives. Demanding blood as sacrifice, and fear, and pain. Was I one? Shuddering, I grimaced.

Why did Nagas teach the secrets of the Kundalini, coiled three times around the spine until awakened by the Tantric rites to thrust along the spine with fervor. Tantric rites to do in darkness by the mother of the moontime, never telling mundane people, never telling human people, til the secrets spilled. And now our current teachers all transgress the rules, telling those who listen, all initiating lulu humans, normal humans, what once was barred to them. I was one of those transgressing. Were the Nagas watching?

Incantor had called me to his Serpentinery, Incantor whom I'd met at Serpent Mass, where The Lizard Lord presided over feasts and rites and all festivities. The Lizard Lord who'd softened up with me in water, in the hot tub, naked, old, his long hair lying on his chest in lank wet tendrils. Incantor in the tub with us, square face, stiff hair, thin lips, eyes glinting, laughing, poking me with toes. Saying come to see my Serpent Mound.

I went, and there, he said, there is where. I passed his dragonries along the long drive in, large ones at the gate, smaller, smaller, stone and stark. I removed my shoes to walk on earth, like him, and followed him towards things that won't appear on photos from the air.

My land, he said, it's something different on the maps. County maps and state maps. This mound is so mysterious, it won't show up on pictures taken from the plane. Or helicopters. A retired Air Force Colonel into Real Estate flew over, taking photos, and I've seen those too. Could be the Mound is shy as me.

The mound is there, he said. The builders came from--Central America. They made these mounds 1000 years AD. That's Old, my darlin!

Beautiful, I said.

They bred with Celts who looked like you, who were already here. Red haired, pale skinned, pretty, I might add.

I smiled into the mossy earth.

. We crossed the stream that branched around it, our feet gone cold, the water pushing up against our stride. We walked the length of it, from tail to head, the snake winding with the ley lines underneath.

The serpent's jaws are open, said Incantor, and on the Summer Solstice, the sun runs over the left jaw. On Winter Solstice, it's the right jaw. Some say they're horns, though, dragony as these guys were. Like Nagas. Nagas had the horns, you know.

Yes the, Nagas. My favorite subject was released and my breath came too fast. Though the name's from India, they were world wide, Egypt too. Built the pyramids on other ley lines where they crossed. 4500 B.C. Same time that the first serpent mounds were built. And on this contintent were pyramids. I love the ways the earth has conduits of energy at all the points, and all connected. It's beautiful, I love them but don't trust them. Why Did they want the energy for their own priests?

I'm them. My blood. And I want you. I want you to be Priestess of the Serpent Mound.
No. I won't. Won't do it.

Don't you remember me from other lives? Don't you remember me when I carried you away, stole you away?

No. I won't. Won't remember.

On the Equinoxes, sun runs from one end t'other. That's when the Indians would come, best weather, on their travels to the other Mounds. I found a lot of artifacts when I was digging. I'll give you one, dear Kundra.

I bowed.

See, here's the tail, coiled up.

Three coils and a half, like Kundalini! I love it! And I hugged him.

We've dowsed it. From this coil emanates six ley lines. The coil is where Pendragons stand to pin the dragon to control the dragon's energies. Pendragon's swords spin circles out of coils, creates the link between the linear and non linear. Not many folks are ready. It's dangerous if not. You are.

We crossed out the stream again onto the bank

Well, here's the Wee House, said Incantor. Cute I'd say.

A shack, one room, not looking spiffy. The sign said Wee House, and the letters each grew smaller than the last.

Know why? he asked? Because we must grow wee to go into the other realms.
It's like we'd pass through the tiny hole of singularity, I said, to go out through the white hole on the other side!

He bent and kissed me on the cheek. And see that four leafed clover there? he said, pointing to the Wee House sign. A clover leaf means doorway to the other worlds. Look here.

He bent.

It's clover. Everywhere. And let me look. A four leafed. He gave put it on my hand. We're blessed with them, he said. All over.

The land was lovely, the mound was exquisite and full of power. The Wee House with a red door flaking off, wood all rotting. But still inviting, facing towards the Serpent Mound but not on top of sacrificial lines.

You must be careful when you walk here, said Incantor. Snakes everywhere. Every time I find one anywhere I bring it here. Everywhere on my land, just like Dragons. I have seen the Dragons often, peeking in, manifesting, lowering their eyes, spurting out their tongues. My friends. Sometimes others see them. But snakes, well everyone sees Them.

You know on dragon line, the ley line, crossings, everyone sees the other worlds more clearly. Spaceships, flying serpents, all those things are common there. You've read the books? I'm glad.

The dragons come to me because of heritage. The dragons in my blood. I was Pendragon once, I think sometimes. The bloodline.

I want my giant magnets back, I said, Incantor. It's been too long. I want to use them. Can't you please look in your house? They must be somewhere.

I can't. Who knows where they are. I've lost them. He didn't seem to mind at all. They wiley stare. No way to penetrate. I hated him. He captured them instead of me this time. So far instead of me.

My magnets. Since lending them for his helmet's sides, to magnetize his head with super charges, I had read that those of Reptilian types, the dragons, like those giant magnet helmets. Had he read that? I wanted those back big time. Made me burn.

Forget the magnets, said Incantor. Did you know 85 percent of mounds here are destroyed?

That night, I tried to sleep inside my van, but something told me to forget encasements, metal and sepuculcral, ease into the earth bare foot on moss, take advantage of the horizontialies inside the Wee House by the Mound. Lie down for Pete's sake by the water, hear the sound. Dark, but some moonlight, and though I used no flashlight, I could penetrate soft moss, fresh sticks, leaves gone bitter with the dusty winds, and yanked apart the opening to step inside. I could tell the place was dirty, moldy, filled with bits of junk, the bed I found by touch just rudimentary. But it had covers, and I lay in them, still dressed, alone, not warm, but still, adventuring.

Still for awhile, still still, and then the rustling. A sound distinctive from the corner, dark, but moving, sliding, curving, snake. Incantor loved all snakes, whatever kind, and so would I. I'd never killed one, never wished ill will. I wished perhaps that it had been across from but not by the door, but still, I rested tense and poised, alert, breathed deeply, deeply, calm, calm, calm.

Steady. It grew silent, and so did I. I remembered how they could not hear, so talking wouldn't work, but silent, vibing, sending Love might just protect me. I started sending love, goodwill and then'

It moved fast toward me! Perhaps another method was preferred!

I stopped my vibes affectionate and so did it. It stilled, moved back a bit, and quieted. I waited. Tried to rest. Sleep might be too much, but dreams awake at least, mound dreams, ley dreams, dreams of ancient prophecies, of secrets.

Eventually, I couldn't help it. I sent Love.

And there it came to me again, precisely. Love, move, Love, move.

No more, or it would be on top of me, unwisely. Did it want to crawl inside me?

And so the night was spent in silence and in nothing, lack of deep acknowledgement of what we shared, our lives entwined inside that box of serpentine obscurity. Until I heard it leave, the door left open for the sounds of water sliding past me, the bit of moonlight through the trees.

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