Long, long ago, in a time far older than the written history of the world recalls, there existed another land, vast and beautiful, in the center of the Great Ocean.  Known by many names to the cultures along the Pacific Rim, its memory was kept alive in the stories of their origins.  For the Polynesians it was Ta Rua, it was Hiva, it was the ancestral home.  Still it lives today in the collective mythic mind as the continent of Mu, the Motherland of Lemurian civilization.

Atlantis, perhaps, is better known.  Yet well before Atlantis had risen to prominence, the foundations of human brilliance had already been established and nurtured in the heart of the Pacific.  This brilliance, remarkably, was achieved in cooperation and harmony with the natural world, rather than by its sacrifice.  It is a story well worth remembering in our time of living on the edge, teetering between self-destruction on the one hand, and the magnificent exaltation of life’s potential on the other. Let us embark on a journey together now, into the mists and beneath the sea, to a hidden realm that we have all visited before, if only in our dreams.
 
Imagine a mountain, jagged and green, cut by waterfalls and flowing rivers.  Follow one of the many stone pathways that leads to its dramatic peak, and from there look out across an abundant land of terraced gardens and flowering trees.  Birds and butterflies fill the air.  Giant iridescent dragonflies dart above the streams.  Banners fly everywhere as well, a full spectrum of colors, marking the processional roads to the temple grounds that are laced amidst the luxuriant vegetation.  The temples themselves are conical and pyramidal, and like the gardens, they are terraced.  Balancing these are the kiva-like worship sites that burrow into the earth, formed of concentric terraced rings, each one deeper than the next. 

All of these formations are linked by subterranean pathways, like arteries and veins, that follow the natural energy currents of the Earth.  Along these inner paths are the dwellings of the human inhabitants.  Each dwelling glows with a gentle light that permeates its atmosphere, though the source of this light is undetectable.  Curiously, a similar glow seems to surround each of the numerous individuals that walk this sacred landscape, both below and above ground.  Wherever these people congregate, the glow increases in magnitude.

You have come to the mountain at the heart of Mu.   From here pumps the lifeforce of the continent.  At the base of this mountain the ocean hugs the shore, and sailing ships from every known land float gracefully across the clear blue water.  The distinctive colored sails of these finely crafted ocean vessels are the markers of their cultures and communities.  Thus are they easily identified as they enter and exit through the various Lemurian ports that bustle with activity, delivering and receiving both goods and people.  So is the lifeforce of the continent distributed and renewed. 

Far to the north and across the equator, one of these ships now journeys for home.  Its sails are made of fine white cloth, trimmed by bands of yellow and red.  At its wooden prow is the carved neck and head of a magnificent dragon, with gleaming eyes of abalone shell and  pearl.  As one of these eyes catches the light of the setting sun, the paddlers strengthen their resolve, and the speed of their vessel increases.  Then gradually it begins to tip downwards, into the waves, and finally it plunges beneath them.  Still the crew and passengers all breathe easy, for they have mastered the art of breathing underwater.  Their canoe is now an ancient open submarine, glowing with the same light that illuminates the people and homes of Lemuria.  So it take them through the nightime sea, gliding effortlessly towards their destination.

When at last the vessel resurfaces, the sun is rising above the eastern horizon and shining upon a fertile, young land.  A place of many volcanoes, some still active, this island in evolution is a distant but vital outpost of Lemurian civilzation.  At the base of its most dramatic ocean cliffs is the scientific capital and research center of the Lemurians.  It is called Ra-Amuru, meaning “The Light of Mu Reborn”.  This magnificent city is built of hand-polished stone, massive basalt columns, and clear quartz crystal.  It prismatically reflects the light of the Sun into the eyes of all sentient beings, so that each perceiver is awakened and healed in every moment by the full natural spectrum of color.

Healing, indeed, is the purpose of Ra-Amuru.  The science of this city is the understanding of harmonious relationships within and between every living thing.   When disharmony arises, then the healing wisdom of Ra-Amuru is applied to restore the natural order of creation.  Hands, minds and hearts are the transmitters of this process, healing through touch, healing through perception, healing through love.  Light, sound and color are the pillars of application, through the opening of the eyes, ears and breath.  Few implements are used.   There are no machines.  The Science of Being is the gift of Ra-Amuru to the world.

At night, as the city drifts into silence, its inhabitants descend the subterranean passageways and tunnels beneath Ra-Amuru and enter a sub-oceanic realm.  There they commune through the dreamtime with their cetacean teachers, the aquatic star being from Sirius, the dolphins and whales.  In this way they calibrate their Science of Being with the worlds both above and below.
 
   Millenia pass.  The city grows.  The people flourish.  Until one day strange ships appear, new kinds of ships that travel across the sky.  People from a distant continent on the other side of the Earth have come to colonize Ra-Amuru.  These visitors are from the island continent of Atlantis, which over time has risen in strength to rival the Motherland of Mu.  Unlike the Lemurians, the Atlanteans are fond of machines.  Increasingly, a certain group of these Atlanteans are inclined to use their machines in ways that are not peaceful.  They use the machines to exert control over others.

Still the people of Ra-Amuru refuse to submit, for they are happy in their ways and at peace in their freedom.  So the flying vessels of Atlantis drop fire from the sky, tearing the land apart and poisoning the water.  In what seems like no more than a momentary flash, the glory that was once Ra-Amuru is gone, the city broken and its citizens dead or dispersed.  A sad Pacific swells with tears, and takes the city into an eternal embrace beneath the waves.
 
    Today, if you look across the sea from Maui to the island of Kaho’olawe, your eyes will lead you to the place where Ra-Amuru once was.  Then perhaps you will recall the story of how the US Navy used Kaho’olawe as a bombing range in the years following World War II.  Yes, the patterns of history do repeat.  Not until after two decades of persistent and peaceful protest by Native Hawaiians was the bombing finally stopped.  In 1987 I was privileged to be among those protestors on Kaho’olawe, and to join them with my conch shell trumpet in honoring Lono, the Hawaiian god of peace.  Our victory came in 1990, when Kaho’olawe was at long last returned to the Hawaiian people.  Since then, the explosive ordinance has been cleared, and the slow but steady process of restoration has begun.  Surely this is a testament to our ability to heal the past.  Perhaps Ra-Amuru, though physically submerged, shall also rise again in the hearts of human beings.

© 2005 by Jim Berenholtz

The Ceremonies of Lono, Kaho'olawe, January 1987