Mount of the Devil

Nijmegen, fall 2012

We’re here to open up to the sacred energies of the Duivelsberg. Like a demonstration. The man who guides us here shows more than just some energies. He reminds us, for example, that this place belonged to the Germans not so long ago. They didn’t care about it, it was a corner hidden somewhere on the West of their empire. They let it run wild. It was given to the Dutch after the war. They declared it protected.

“Somewhere on this hill, there is a power spot.” Our guide is facing us. ” Try to find out where it is”. Looking at the whitish glow straight uphill and the other glow somewhat to the left, I can tell that are two power spots here. A dream drops back into my mind.

I am standing somewhere in the forest. The guide has his eyes wide open. I say: “there is a power spot here as well.” This man tells me: “No. The power spot is over there”. He points over his back. The direction is two O’clock for me, five O’clock for him.

We all go and explore. I walk to the spot on the left. I’m not sure. Then to the place where he pointed in my dream. The other white glow. The my belly’s depths spontaneously suck up some air. I bring our guide back to the other spot. He tests the vibe with his dowsing rod. “I don’t detect anything” he says, and he loses his reliability in the process.

I seem to be the only one to notice the subtle movements his hands make while he demonstrates the power of the spots. It may well be my most annoying characteristic: whenever I see a magician, I attempt to follow the cards. It has led me to believe that most of what we see performed by human beings is distraction. Most people are so involved with their own ways that they seem to believe them themselves. Science, sales, religion, art, writing… Most of it is bluff. But in spite of this constant search for the real, I have thorough faith in the mystical.

“Look!” says a woman holding the stick. “It works with me!” I can also see her subtle movements. “Look! Mine turns too!” the ambiance seems competitive. It looks as though those who make the thing move receive more respect. Is it a joke? I can’t tell. But our guide takes note of it too. I try and hold my hand still. Nothing.

“The energy that comes out of the water, is that the same kind as a ley line?” He comes to stand next to me. “No. The river has many kinds of energy. There are plants and bugs and dragonflies… They all have their own…” there’s delight in his voice.

He has me back.

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