The Unfolding of Zahra Indigo's Becoming

It is 2014. I am in Cairo, near the Great Pyramid, one of the oldest sacred geometries on Earth. The capstone is gone. The sides are tumbled. The pyramid points to a past that is obscured by time. I have arrived to Egypt early to prepare for a group that will soon arrive ready for me to lead them through the mysteries. 

I sink into a deep contemplation of the coming tour and group, pondering what alchemy would be needed. Then, I witness in my inner sight, two threads descend from the sky. 

One is the color of the sun at noon — not yellow, not orange, but the color that is behind color, the light that preceded the first morning. Gold. 

One is the color of the moon on still water — not white, not silver, but the quality of light that reveals rather than illuminates, that shows what was always there rather than casting anything new. Silver.

The threads enter the open apex of the Great Pyramid, remembering when the cap was there and coated with the sacred Electrum.  

The threads of Gold and Silver then enter my crown. I do not reach for them. I am simply open at the exact moment they arrive, the way a window cannot be said to reach for the light that moves through it. They enter because I have been, through years of walking and returning and walking again toward the sacred, exactly the shape through which they could pass.

Years pass as I carry them without fully knowing what I carry. The way a seed carries the forest. The way the Canary Island pine carries the fire-resistant bark before the fire comes.

My life moves forward the way life does, not in a straight line but in the spiral that the mystics have always known is the actual shape of becoming.

And then in 2023, in a convergence of vision that I will later understand as the fold of time pressing past and future against the single point of now, the two threads return to my awareness.

Yet this time they do not simply enter and pass through. This time they meet at my pineal gland, the seat of inner sight, the place the pine tree shaped its seed to echo, the place Djehuti touches when he says see.

The Gold Thread and the Silver Thread meet. They twine. From my crown to pineal, through my throat, into the crucible of my heart, into the fires of love, the only fire hot enough, the gold and silver threads melt. Two becomes one, the two becomes Electrum. Not by either dissolving, nor by either surrendering its nature, but by the fires of Love being sufficient to hold them both in the same moment until something new is born that neither was alone.

What was Gold is still Gold. What was Silver is still Silver. And what they are together is neither and both, which is the definition of the only metal the ancients used for sacred offering before they learned to separate the two.

The Gold and Silver threads did not originate in the sun and moon alone. They originated in the Earth's own longing to reconnect with the cosmos. The sun and moon were the visible expression of a signal the Earth was already sending upward.  

Electrum — the manifestation of the balance of truth that electrifies the wakening within the dream and the dreaming within the awake.

I did not manufacture this. I was simply present long enough, and open enough, and true enough, for it to occur.

This Electrum Transmission would take nearly a decade of my showing up and paying attention before the full instruction arrived. That is the quality of patience this work has always required of me and clearly always will.

And only then — with the Electrum already formed in the crucible of my heart — did the vision come of the 144 places. 

The 144 drops to become the net the earth was calling for.

The vessel was made first. Then it was filled.

Not the other way around.

This is how the sacred always moves.

On one of the last days of the main pilgrimage, we came to Old Cairo where there was a strong Coptic Christian community and many old, small churches. Within one of them, it was said that Mary and baby Jesus stayed seeking sanctuary. As we entered the area, I began to feel the ground shake and the world spin around me. I knew that I needed to sit still. I asked my Egyptian guide to take the group into the churches without me.

I found a spot to sit and wait for them. I closed my eyes. All around were the sounds of the tourists talking and the birds singing. The sun on my face shone red through my closed eyes. Still spinning and shaking, the red darkened as if a shadow blocked the sun. I thought one in my group had walked up obscuring the sun. Yet as I opened my eyes, no one was in front of me, and the light was bright.

My eyes closed once again. The shadow remained and began to take shape. There before me was a woman with a scarf the color of the deep blue sky gently draped over her head. She had a deeply serene presence. Her eyes were like dark pools of ancient wisdom. She exuded nurturing. Loving. Concern. She felt like the archetypal Mother.

She sat to the left of me, and as she did so, the red of the sun on closed eyes returned. I felt her warmth next to me. I felt her leg touch mine. I felt her hand land softly on my left thigh. With her touch, the ground stopped shaking. The world stopped spinning. Total peace washed over me. Though she said no words, her presence was deeply profound and comforting. I knew in my very core that she was somehow preparing me for what was yet to come.

I felt the impulse to open my eyes. As I did so, the presence of the woman with the blue scarf dissipated, yet she left an expanding warmth in my heart that I feel every time I bring her into my awareness.

With the main tour completed and half of my group having traveled back to their homes, a smaller group joined me on an extended adventure to Siwa Oasis in the Great Sand Sea at the far northwest of Egypt. For many years I had felt a call that I must visit the oracle temple there, and I was finally on my way.

On the long bus ride to the Oasis, the Woman in Blue’s presence was still with me. The heart opening that she initiated in Old Cairo was wider, deeper, more pervasive. Even many days later, I felt my heart continuing to expand within the very core of my being. As we traveled west from Alexandria along the edge of this grand continent near the Mediterranean Sea, I began to feel like I was again in a trance state, yet distinctly present. 

We stopped to get some bananas and mandarins for the group. I suddenly needed to get off the bus and to feel my feet on the ground. There was a tall tree growing next to the road who beckoned me. As I leaned against her strong and steady trunk, she provided stability from the spinning which had returned. This time, I felt like I was going to faint because I was feeling so much. It was as if I was feeling the gyration of the Earth, solar system, galaxy, and cosmos all at the same time. I felt the spinning of the atoms in my body. I felt the layers of “who I thought I was”, spinning off me. 

With the tree trunk at my back and eyes closed, suddenly I felt a vortex open up over my head. With my inner sight saw a tornado of words spiraling into my crown. I tried to focus on what the words were and meant, but there were just way too many of them coming in so fast in languages both familiar and unfamiliar. I just could not make sense of them. It was as if the divine was texting directly through my crown. Filling me, filling me, and filling me and all I could do is to receive and receive and receive. It was overwhelming. It was amazing. The conscious part of me tried to hold on to some grasp of reality as I was filled with these words beyond comprehension. Then unexpectedly, the funnel of words transformed into pure light that spiraled from the vastness of the cosmos into a point on my crown and into the depths of my being. This vortex of light was brilliant, amazing, unexplainable, and in some ways more overwhelming than all the words.

I almost fell to the ground amidst the roadside trash around me, with Egyptian workers at my back, and the chaotic road with vehicles speeding by. Some sense seeped in, and I thought—no, no, don't fall down. I thought—stay up right girl, get back on the bus, sit in your seat and just be with this. I made it back on the bus just as my team returned with the fruit. On the bus, I felt like I was a million miles away. One of the women in my group remarked that when she looked in my eyes, she saw the universe. For the next many, many days, I was functioning full time in a theta state and the vortex cone of light continued to stream into my crown while I simultaneously shepherded my group through the experiences in Siwa. I walked a balancing act between multiple worlds.

On the last day in the Oasis, we visited the Oracle Temple of Amun. From the bus, as soon as I saw the mound with the temple ruins on top, I felt as if I was being pulled by an invisible cord to get to the top as quickly as possible. We got off the bus and began the walk to the entrance of the Temple which sat on the knoll above the date palms. As we walked up the stairs, my feet seemed to know their way despite the truth that I had not been there in this body. The group was soon far behind me with the Siwaian guide. The guide called the group to a spot of shade near the bottom to talk to them about this place, while my feet continued on— up and up—until I found myself standing in the center of the Temple at the top of the hill. Their voices faded as I entered what remained of very center of this ancient temple, what is referred to as the holly of holies. As I stood there, the funnel of light above me became brighter. As its luminosity increased, the vortex transformed into a column of light that now beamed down all around me, through me, and far into the ground.

With my back to the opening of the holy of holies, I stood. I breathed. I felt the vortex of light that had begun days before by the roadside shift from a cone to a beam that went down through my crown and through my head, through my neck and heart and torso, down into the Earth. I felt like a bead strung upon a strand of Allah’s grace. Then this beam of light began to expand. My whole body was engulfed in a column of light that extended a foot or more beyond my skin. My mind was empty; no thoughts, only the presence of the experience. My skin tingled. My heart was full and light. It was profound and potent. 

I sensed the group approaching and a knew that this was a deeply personal experience I was having and opened my eyes. The column remained steady as I brought an awareness to what my eyes saw and what my ears heard. The added stimulus of these senses caused me to feel more than my feet could hold. I saw a stone by the gate and sat. The group came in and milled about. I continued to sit. They were then all inside the holy of holies with me and I stood and brought forward something to the group that is now beyond conscious memory. Then I sat once again. My group dispersed as I began to feel more grounded and able to hold the column of light along with the truth of the 3D reality of this Temple and the consensual shared reality. 

After some time, my feet took me behind the temple to the top and back where I came across the three traveling companions—the Italian, Somalian, and Iranian. For me, they were the three wise men. There was an acknowledgment of kindredness, a sharing of smoke, and an exchange of wisdom. The column of light consolidated and glowed brighter. It was a deeply moving connection with land, ancient temple, Creator, and humanity. I wanted to make sense of it with my rational analytical mind but was unable. The column of light stayed with me as we finished our time at the temple and headed back to the hotel. Back on the bus, I realized that I needed to have space held for me to allow me to sink deeply into trance to understand more fully what was going on. I asked three of my group who I know were able to hold such things if they would sit with me. We met in my room shortly after returning to the hotel. 

With little provocation, I sank more deeply into visioning than I ever had before. Deeper and deeper I entered. As the Vision unfolded, I was witness to the truths of ancient and future lives lived. I was left stunned and humbled as never before. 

A Man sits on the floor in a small cave with his back to the entrance. Inside the cave, the light enters in from the opening. He has brown hair, not straight and not curly. His skin is not dark and is not light. His thick beard and brows are a shade darker than his hair. His eyes are penetrating, questioning, wise and open, sad and joyful. His features are deeply symmetrical and balanced. 

He is in prayer. He seeks union with the Divine, not with his mind, but with his heart. The Man begins to have a deeply mystical and transcendent experience as an Angel of Light gently descends from above to hover in front of Him. I see the angel as if I am looking through the man’s eyes. I see the man as if I am looking through the angel’s eyes. I see them both looking through my own eyes.

The Angel dressed in all white with white wings slightly folded while slightly open. The Angel emits a bright light from every fiber of its being that illuminates the front of the man as if he is in the day light. The light is so bright that the man is unable to see anything but the light. I see the angel as if I am looking through the man’s eyes. I see the man as if I am looking through the angel’s eyes. I see them both looking though my own eyes. 

There is trepidation in the man’s eyes. He bows to the ground, with his forehead to the floor of the cave. The Angel speaks without speaking, imparting an essential message to the Man. I too sense this message but do not hear it all. . . . in the Name of the Most Generous Lord who made humans and taught them what they knew not . . . 

The Man returns to his wife. She sits at a desk upon which is a bowl of dates and a lit slender candle. She has a deep and abiding love for the Man. She has deep devotion to him. She has an even deeper love for Creator. Her devotion and faith to Creator is absolute. The Man tells her of the Light in the cave and of the message that was imparted. He is deeply unsettled. He lies down. She covers him with a cloth, comforts him, and assures him that he is worthy and pious, and that the Divine protects him. Nothing will come to him that is not within the Divine’s grace. 

The vision shifts . . . The Man stands in front of his people. The Angel hovers behind him. The Divine holds them both in his love. The light of the Divine fills the Angel and the light from the Angel enters the Man’s heart from his back. The people do not see the Angel but witness the man’s illumination. The light from the Angel moves through the Man’s heart and upon leaving the front of him, fractures into many beams of light that entered into the hearts of all the people standing there with him. Most of the people are filled with this illumination and in that moment know truth. A few of the people reject the light in disbelief and turn away. 

The vision takes on a new quality. The Angel and the Man are no longer here. I now walk through the hot dry desert. Loose sand slips under my bare feet. The heat of the sand overwhelms the souls. 

In my arms, I carry a large heavy branch that is dry and old with age beyond knowing. Somehow, I know it is older than the Man in the cave. The tree it came from had long since passed into memory, yet this one branch remains. I am unaware of how it came into my arms. With each step, the weight of it gets heavier. It is a burden to carry. Though I want to, I cannot set it down even though my arms ache. The way is difficult. I am tired. My back is strained. 

Large dunes rise seemingly infinitely behind me. The tracks of my footprints disappear as the sand trickles into the cavities left behind from my passage. With the ups and downs of dunes now past, the sand has evened out. I notice a glimmer ahead. The loose sand becomes cooler and firmer. A slight tactile sense of moisture eases the burn in my souls from the sun fiercely baking the desert lands. The ground becomes harder as water and sand combine. The cool saturated sand is so much easier to walk on. 

The glimmer becomes a large body of water. I cannot see the opposite shore. My steps stop at the edge of the calm water that now gently laps over my grateful feet. Still holding the large branch, I stand waiting, for what I am unsure. 

With translucent green eyes which are almost like sea glass, they look deeply into my eyes, into my heart, and into my soul. There is a peace about them and a wisdom that is far, far beyond their age. 

The girl takes my left hand and the boy, the right. They lead me in the direction from which they had come. As we walk along the water’s edge, signs of life begin to show with tall grasses growing in the sand. We soon come to a narrow path which leads up a grassy dune. At the peak of the dune, ahead appears a forest of majestic old trees who tower into a deep blue sky. The path leads into the dim of this ancient grove. The sunlight dapples through the high branches and scatters on the ground. The ground is covered in duff from eons of tree particulate falling and gathering. The path is cool and soft under my feet. This place is a stark contrast to the barren hot sands of the desert. 

After walking under the canopy for an undetermined distance, we come to an opening in this ancient forest. There is a small, simple wooden hut without any significant decoration. Leading me inside, there is one tidy room with a hearth and small wooden table with three chairs. There is a soft mat with warm covers on the ground. 

They express that this is their humble home for which they are very grateful. They share that they live with their mother who is not present. They do not say when she left, where she went, or when she is to return.

They invite me to lie down on the mat and rest after my arduous journey to get here. They each sit down on either side of me. Gently, they move the hair away from my face and rest their hands on my shoulders. As I lay on this mat and feel the solid foundation of the ground, I feel my entire body relax. I feel safe and curious. 

They impart that they are so glad I have come. They say that so much has changed since my time. The world is now very different. There has been much difficulty, disintegration of world systems, and demise. There are less people now and the life force of the planet is still healing. The death of the old systems brought much chaos at first, yet with the passing of years, a simpler life took rootand people began to find their way in accordance with what the planet could sustain in a healthy way for all life. They share that they remember everything from the time of the Man in the Cave and before. They are connected to him. They are connected to me. We are all connected to one another.

As I lay upon the children’s mat within their hut, I enter yet another vision deep within this vision, where I am shown a timeline with the cave and the Man and the Angel at one end and the children in the hut at the other. I see my life in the center. I understand that I am at the mid-point between. The timeline shows that the children are as far into my future time as the Man in the Cave is in my past. The timeline shows approximately 3000 years from one end to the other. The time before the Man and after the Children is vague, dim and not discernable.

They say that I exist because of the choices the Man made in his past. They say that they exist because of the choices I make in my lifetime. They say the Man exists because of the choices those who came before him made. They say we all exist because of the precise turnings of destiny. They say I no longer need to seek, only to simply arrive again and again into the light of the present moment. They instruct me to walk fully in the light in everything I think, say, and do. It becomes clear that by being in the light, my choices are made from a place of consideration for all of life. In this way, everything I do will allow all that the children need to become who they need to be. I vow to them that I will walk in the light.

As I give my vow, the timeline folds at the center point that represents my life and the two ends—the future with the hut and the children at one and the past with the cave and the Man and Angel at the other—become united. My life is now at the one end of the timeline and their union is at the other. Again, the timeline folds. We merge, and a point of singularity is created. All one. One all.

I begin to be pulled out of the vision within the vision back into the hut with the children. I also now begin to sense the room in the hotel in Siwa Oasis on this day in March 2023. Yet, before fully coming back into my body, the children express these words: 

The way it was, is the way it will be. 

The way it is, is the way it is. 

The Way it will be, is the way it was. 

And, so it goes.

I open my eyes. Stunned. Humbled. The late afternoon Oasis light filters through my window. My three witnesses have a glow around them. The column of light that had surrounded me, is now a beam of light through my crown connecting me to the core of the Earth and the depths of the cosmos. I feel like a clear bead strung upon this strand of light.

For nearly two weeks when I close my eyes for more than a blink, I continue to see strong moments of the Man in his life. Whenever I see him, I sense the Angel near him. Sometimes I feel the Angel near me as I move through my days. 

With my eyes closed for more than a blink  . . .  

I am graced by ethereal glimpses of the children moving about their life though now seeing them is more as if seeing through a veil rather than being there with them. It is comforting to know they are there.

With my eyes closed . . . 

The Man stands at the window and looks out to the night. He is filled with love for his people. He is filled with concern for his people. He is filled with a sadness that there will be fighting to set the path straight to be able to rightfully return to where they belong. He is filled with his faith in Allah, knowing without a doubt the Truth of Creator. 

With eyes closed . . . 

The Man sits outside his home. Children play around him. He marvels in the blessings of life. Upon his face is gentle smile that never leaves. Within his eyes is a shadow of sadness for the challenges that they face. Within his heart, is a trust as deep as the cosmos. 

Eyes closed . . . 

The Man stands next to a mosque. It has a metal dome. It feels old and sacred and complicated. For the first time, he looks to me and addresses me directly. Pointing to the mosque, he says this is the first. He says I must go there. He does not say when. Opening my eyes, I ask about the first mosque. I am shown a picture of Al Aqsa Mosque and told it was the first that they prayed to before Makkah. It is the one I had just seen behind closed eyes. I inwardly vow to go as soon as I can. Little did I know how complicated it would soon become in the region in October that same year. 

Eyes closed . . . 

The Man is next to a child’s body wrapped in linen. He is deeply grieving his son. I feel his pain.

Eyes closed . . . 

The Man walks forward with two other men—a man in white to his left and a man in black to his right. The Man is in the center and wears grey. The two men argue about what they believe to be the correct path. The man to the left insists that the path to the right is the path straight to the destination. The man to the right insists that the path to the left is the straight path. The Man in the middle says there is only one truth, one straight path that they all walk upon whether to the right, to the left or in the center, and that there cannot more than one. 

Eyes closed . . . 

It is night. The people are traveling and have stopped for the night. The Man tells the people to extinguish all the candles so that their light does give away their location. There is fear in the air. The Man informs the people that when he ignites his candle, it will show that the danger has passed. Time moves forward. He sits and watches the stars rotate in the dark of the night. Early in the dawn just as the sky begins to shade from black to grey, he senses an ease in the peril and lights his candle. 

Eyes closed . . . 

The Man sharpens his knife. He has an animal. He binds its feet. He places his hand on the beast’s face between the eyes and says a prayer. The animal is calm. In his heart, he feels such gratitude for this animal’s life and the sacrifice it will give to feed the people. With a swift and precise hand, the Man cuts the neck, catching the blood in a bowl. The Man stays with the animal until its life is taken back to the Source and the flesh is ready to butcher. There are more hungry people that this one animal is able to feed, yet the meat from this one animal feeds everyone to their fill. 

Eyes closed . . . 

The Man stands upon the rocks of a mountain. His people are with him. He imparts revelations he has received from the Angel. He speaks of the mercy and forgiveness of Creator. He speaks of the love of the One. He speaks of the light of the Divine. The people are filled with truth. 

With eyes closed . . . 

The Man stands upon the rocks of a mountain. His people are with him. He imparts revelations he has received from the Angel. He speaks of the mercy and forgiveness of Creator. He speaks of the love of the One. He speaks of the light of the Divine. The people are filled with truth. 

With eyes closed . . . 

A different Man appears with a face wizened and wrinkled from hardships and days toiling in the sun. His tired feet worn from many, many, many steps, he walks up a rocky mountain. It is dark but the sky is beginning to lighten with the coming of the morning sun. His feet instinctively know the way and his steps are steady though the terrain is uneven and difficult to see. He reaches the summit above the clouds. There he receives ten essential truths carved upon a stone tablet. He knows that this is a fundamental foundation to help guide his people forward. 

With eyes closed . . . 

I sit on the balcony of the Cairo apartment; eyes close as I listen to the busy sounds of the city’s day. The Man from the cave appears to my right. This is the first time he appears to me in my timeline and not a vision from his timeline. I am stunned as it has been a few days since the visions had dissipated, yet I was still walking in both worlds and had not fully come back into myself. He says to take his hand. I reach out my right hand and feel the warmth and strength of his hand in mine. He pulls me up and leads me inside. My friend is on the phone. The Man puts my hand into my friend’s hand. I sink to the ground. He is talking to a Sheik and asks me to share some of the vision I have had, yet I do not speak about the Man appearing to me on the balcony just now with the offering of his hand. The Sheik asks many questions then says the visions have come to me because I am to take the Messenger’s hand. This is the confirmation —I am not crazy. I know that I must fully trust how profound this vision and experience is. After these last many weeks, I finally begin to feel a sense of ease and peace. 

Later in the day, I begin my return to the States and feel myself move back in my ordinary consciousness. Now I carry with me the truths within truths within truths I was shown.

Writing out these experiences have given me an chance to examine both the content of my Vision as well as to lean into what it means for my life. It has offered the opportunity to look into deep time with the realization that past, present, and future are intimately connected and all three inform one another. 

I have considered what is “real” in regard to this Vision, what I can share, what I should share, and what I will share in relation to the Vision. In Hadith, a holy companion book of Islam, it is written, “Abu Hurairah said, I heard the Messenger of Allah (May peace be upon him) say: He who sees me in a dream will see me when awake or as if he will see me when awake, for the devil does not take my likeness.” (Surrah, Book 43, Hadith 25).

Additionally, Sufi spiritual leader Pir Zia Inayat Khan (2000) offered, “It is suggested that the presential awareness that we have of what we might instead call “imaginal” phenomena evinces a dimension of being that is ontologically no less real that the sensible world” (p. 153). 

As I have considered the Vision, and whether what I received was an authentic vision versus a delusion, I have come to believe that it was indeed a true vision which has provided me with the opportunity to learn and grow and help shape the world that is becoming.

As I have considered what I can share, I have heard and read various suggestions. Many urge not to share as others will not understand or believe me. On the Dar Al-iftasite (2027), it was suggested that “seeing the Messenger of God in waking states indeed occurs. There is no rational or scriptural opposition to this; however, this door is precious and not open to everyone. It is incumbent on the one who sees the Prophet in this manner to not relate it to those who cannot understand it and therefore lead to them denying the possibility altogether. Speaking to people with that which they can understand and comprehend is better and God is Most High, all Knowledgeable.” 

Despite the caution I have received in sharing the full content of the vision, I have come to feel that given the state of our world and the messages contained within the Vision that the sharing of my experience is not something to shy away from but is rather an imperative to bring forward. It is something that when sharing may be a gift to others. I know without a doubt that my Vision was a calling, a calling that does not have a single goal or answer. Levoy (p. 256, 1997) suggested, “Nor does a call have a single right answer. A call asks us to create a response, and even a diminutive one is still saying yes. The point is to move toward it, however humbly”  As I have continue to follow the calling and allow myself to be led by the Spirit of Guidance, I remain open to what it has to reveal, inform, and teach, and I strive to walk with it with a humble heart. 

Regarding how the Vision is informing my life, I have been  using the Vision as a springboard to study altered states, how they come, how the individual can process what was received, and how the community accepts such experiences. I am curious about how different cultures accept such states, and how the Western world and the Indigenous world have vastly different relationships to how such experiences are understood and received as psychotic delusionality or valid and real. I have come to understand that there are many different experiences that can be considered within this frame of reference. In my research, I have not yet come across a term that would refer to all such altered states of consciousness. So, I comprised the term, pannuminous. Pan meaning all and numinous referring to states that evoke a sense of wonder, awe, and spiritual connection. 

Ultimately, what I know is that the full scope of the vision shows the interconnectivity of all peoples, past, present, and future, how they are all intricately connected, and how they inform one another. It illuminates the deep humanity of the last Prophet (peace be upon him). It shows the importance of taking care of community, and the truth that our present actions are creating great challenges for our future generations of life on planet earth. Yet it also brings a knowing that in a future time, the children will be living in a world that is healing from its past. This brings great hope and a drive to help those people in the present who now arrive into an important knowing that each decision weaves the future for all those who will be alive then. 

These experience have become the foundation upon which my life is held and the compass that directs me. It has become the calling that drives me forward with a commitment to those who will breathe this same air in our future time. My life has become dedicated to all the descendants of this precious Earth. In all of this, I am arriving again and again into the present moment with a profound understanding that I am deeply connected to all that was and all that is and that each choice, small and large, is a part of the collective weaving of creation. 

“The way it was, is the way it will be. 

The way it is, is the way it is. 

The Way it will be, is the way it was. 

And, so it goes.” 

What a gift it is.