The Celestine Prophecy: An Adventure

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Authors: James Redfield
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it or not but at the very least this Manuscript has stimulated some interesting research.”
    “What would it take for science to accept this idea?” I asked.
    “A way to measure it,” he said. “The existence of this energy is not that foreign actually. Karate masters have talked about an underlying Chi energy responsible for their seemingly impossible stunts of breaking bricks with their hands and of being able to sit in one place unmoved with four men trying to push them over. And we’ve all seen athletes make spectacular moves, twisting, turning, hanging in the air in ways that defy gravity. It’s all the result of this hidden energy that we have access to.
    “Of course, it won’t really be accepted until more people can actually see it themselves.”
    “Have you ever observed it?” I asked.
    “I’ve observed something,” he said. “It really depends on what I’ve eaten.”
    “How so?”
    “Well, the people around here who readily see these energy fields eat mostly vegetables. And they usually eat only these highly potent plants they’ve grown themselves.”
    He pointed ahead to the food bar. “This is some of it, though thank goodness they serve some fish and fowl for old guys like me who are addicted to meat. But if I force myself to eat differently, yes, I can see something.”
    I asked him why he didn’t change his diet for longer periods of time.
    “I don’t know,” he said. “Old habits die hard.”
    The line moved forward and I ordered only vegetables. The three of us joined a larger table of guests and talked casually for an hour. Then Wil and I walked out to the jeep to remove our gear. “Have you seen these energy fields?” I asked.
    He smiled and nodded. “My room is on the first floor,” he said. “Yours is on the third. Room 306. You can pick your key up at the desk.”
    The room had no phone, but a lodge attendant I saw in the hallway assured me someone would knock on my door at 5:00 A.M . sharp. I lay down and thought for a few minutes. The afternoon had been long and full, and I understood Wil’s silence. He wanted me to experience the Third Insight in my own way.
    The next thing I knew someone was banging on the door. I looked at my watch: 5:00 A.M . When the attendant knocked again I said, “Thank you,” in a voice loud enough for him to hear, then rose and looked out the small frame window. The only sign of morning was a pale glow of light toward the east.
    I walked down the hall and showered, then dressed quickly and went downstairs. The dining room was open and a surprising number of people were moving about. I ate only fruit and hurried outside.
    Strands of fog drifted across the grounds and clung to the distant meadows. Songbirds called one another from the trees. As I walked away from the lodge, the very top of the sun breached the horizon toward the east. The color was spectacular. The sky was a deep blue above the bright peach horizon.
    I arrived at the knoll fifteen minutes early so I sat down and leaned against the trunk of a large tree, fascinated by the web of gnarled branches growing out above my head. In a few minutes I heard someone walking toward me along the path and I looked that way, expecting to see Sarah. Instead I saw someone I didn’t know, a man in his mid-forties. He left the path and walked my way without noticing me. When he was within ten feet he saw me with a start, which made me flinch also.
    “Oh, hello,” he said in a rich Brooklyn accent. He was dressed in jeans and hiking boots and looked exceptionally fit and athletic. His hair was curly and receding.
    I nodded.
    “Sorry about walking up on you so suddenly,” he said.
    “No problem.”
    He told me his name was Phil Stone and I told him who I was and that I was waiting for a friend.
    “You must be doing some research here,” I added.
    “Not really,” he replied. “I work for the University of Southern California. We’re doing studies in another province on the rain forest

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