In his mid-twenties artist Peter Teekamp traveled and displayed his art work at various art fairs. Different people he would meet would tell him his roots were in France. They would accuse him of being a specific artist from the past.  This happened on many occasions and not by just a few psychic or wanna-be prophets but people from all walks of life. In fact one person came up very close to his face and told him flat out that he was this artist and called his name out loud then dropped the conversation and walked away. In the meantime books would fall off shelves opening up to the page showing pictures and articles about this artist. Not just once but too many times to call it a coincidence. Most baffling to Peter was that the artist's name was that word that he'd had living in his mind so many years before as a child.

On the last leg of a journey, traveling the United States to exhibit his art at fairs, Peter and his new wife, Angela, arrived in Needles Arizona. Just as the sun was setting in a great orange glow, the open stretch of desert offered only one choice in accommodations for the night, a small motel just off the road ahead. Weary from days of traveling and happy to find a quiet location, they headed for their retreat. 

The owner of the motel saw them approaching and had come outside to greet them. A gentleman from India, with a friendly smile and olive skin, exchanged pleasantries with the couple. Peter noticed the man was more interested with what the couple had in their car than in the conversation. In the back of the car were Peter's art prints that he had put in the window to block the sun. The motel owner stared intently at the art prints of the Indians and seemed to be fascinated by them.

"Whose prints are these?" The man said with a heavy accent.

"They're mine." Peter responded.

"You are the artist? If you are the artist, then tonight your room is free and I ask only one favor of you. Go in the morning to a very special place". He pointed to a direction in the desert. He continued, "It is a secret Indian site and don't worry, I know you will find it."

The next morning, Peter and Angela awoke refreshed and ready for their new adventure. They were very curious about what lay ahead and even anxious to get started.

They thanked the motel owner and gave him a print as a gesture of their gratitude. The two then set out for the mysterious location that the man had told them about.

After driving to the middle of the desert, they kept their gaze on the mountain ahead of them. As they drove nearer and nearer, they both saw a fantastic sight and were certain that this was what they were looking for.

"That must be it!" Angela said in excitement.

"Damn right it is," Peter agreed.

With the crystal blue sky as a backdrop and the brilliant sun as a spotlight, the perfect profile of the mountain came into full view. The profile of a face, just like the ones Peter had always put in his paintings.

Continuing on, getting closer and closer to the mountain, they saw it had Indian symbols and drawings on its walls. They knew they were looking at something very special like a secret holy ground. Pulling to the side of the road the two got out of the car to investigate further.

As they got closer to the stone walls and jagged rock formations, they suddenly found themselves bathed in color. Prisms of light, every color of the rainbow, scattered all around the sky and danced about them.  They were completely amazed by all the beautiful colors and looked at each other with grins like two children who had just found buried treasure. They knew for sure now that this was indeed a very special spot.

Looking up to a plateau Peter felt a desire to climb to its peak.  The attraction was too strong for him to ignore. Angela encouraged him to go on and told him not to worry about her. She returned to the car to wait for him and Peter began his ascent up the steep rocks to the top. 

He walked up to the foot of the mountain alone. As he neared another corner in the rocky landscape his sight set on a scene that to this day he can not explain nor ignore. Suddenly he was looking at thousands of Indians all dressed in ceremonial garments appearing as if in a celebration of some kind. It was a very impressive sight and he knew he had come upon something very exciting and felt very honored to be witnessing it. He didn't understand what was really happening but he'd always had a deep interest in Indian culture and their beliefs so he decided to give them respect and quietly pass through the crowd as a humble observer.

Peter was fascinated as he continued his walk toward the mountain.  The Indians had raised their arms in the air as a welcome sign and had begun to shout "He did return! He did return!" Peter was totally perplexed as the chanting continued. He was still unsure of what it all meant or his part, if any, in the event.

The chanting voices began to drift off and blend with the sounds of the desert wind as Peter neared another level. He was getting closer and closer to the mountain's plateau.

There was no concept of time and he did not know how long it took but he finally found himself on top of the mountain looking down to his wife and the car. With the great distance between them Peter began shouting to get Angela's attention. Again a strange phenomena occurred. Even though it would seem too great a distance and that they could not possibly hear each other, they found that it was not necessary to yell at all. In fact they discovered that they could almost whisper and still hear each other.

"Angela," Peter said almost softly, "Can you hear me?"

Her reply came as softly as his, "Yes, I can."

Peter again in a soft tone, "But this is impossible! I can see you but you are less than a quarter inch tall you're so far away, this is not possible!" he repeated.

"I know. " Angela confirmed.

This made no sense to either of them. They thought they must be in some sort of atmospheric plane where the air is so thin sound was allowed to travel unhindered by space or the rocky terrain. It was an unbelievable experience.

"You know what this means?" Peter asked Angela, still speaking softly, "It means we never have to shout at each other again."

This was Peter's final statement before returning back down.

Peter felt so special and the situation seemed so unreal, he knew he had to leave his mark. He picked up a rock and carved his name in the mountain wall. Standing back to see his signature engraved in stone, he felt a strong sense of satisfaction and knew that someday he would come back to what he decided was a very sacred location.

Still holding the rock in his hand, Peter began his hike back down the mountain. The feeling of acceleration as he was running down hill added with a growing feeling of fear and Peter found himself picking up speed, faster and faster. The faster he took each step, the stronger the fear intensified.

The Indians and their chanting had vanished but there was the feeling of a presence, an entity or electricity in the air that made him feel that he was not alone. The odd sensation was something he did not like at all.

Finally arriving at the car he threw the rock in the trunk, jumped in the  passenger side yelling, "Get us the hell out of here! I can't handle this!" to Angela as she started the car. Peter was so confused by what he was experiencing that they couldn't drive away fast enough for him. He remembered feeling as if spirits were surrounding him all over, everywhere, looking at him.

Pulling into the driveway of their home in St. Cloud Minnesota, tired from all the work of their business trip and even more exhausted from the recent adventure at the mountain, both were grateful to be home. Peter started to unload the car. The trunk lid popped open and sitting on top the pile of clothes and luggage was the rock, the rock he had used to carve his name at the mountain. Picking it up and holding it like some holy souvenir, he saw the face. The rock he had randomly picked up had the perfect shape and profile of a face just like the face they had found on the mountain and just the like the faces so often repeated in Peter's new age art.

All the feelings Peter had experienced on the mountain came rushing back. He was beginning to realize it had been a little more than just an adventure. It felt to him as if God had lifted a curtain to give a peek at His cosmic plan. Whatever it was, Peter decided to respect it, learn from it and give it value, whatever it may have been. 

| Return to home page | Next |