You’re walking an upward spiraling path along a mountain on a pilgrimage in the cold. Its not snowing. Just cold. You’re wrapped in a beautiful warm patchwork coat of many colors and fabrics. You’re wearing shepherd sandals Your head and ears are covered warm. There are occasional gusts of wind that shifts your comfort, as the air travels along your face and down your neck. So, you adjust just the patchwork coat...your fingers gently bitten by the bitter cold.
You’re higher now.
gaining altitude. Thus, the gusts are continuous.
You’re supposed to go to the top - where you’re instructed to receive your answer. You’re wondering what is at the top, what you’ll need to know. Walking In sandals, for what seems like ages. You’re hunched, marching to split the gusts that are fighting you up a mountain that promises deep wisdom at its summit. By now, you’re in denial of your own complaints against the icy snowless hardship as you’re pushing towards with the summit’s promise. You’re going - the edge of the mountain getting closer. Until the whistles of the gusts are gone and the sounds of your sandals begin the only echo towards the summit. Your posture, once a defense from the cold, straightens. The atmosphere is still. So you continue. Even your breathing can be heard across the realms, as the blue skies gradate to a flamingo sunset. Looking over the edge is a bed of clouds beneath.
Now the cracks in the mountains sprouts fuchsia colored grass, - completely filling the ground and as you continue upwards, you hear a faint chime - similar to the pitch of a child’s bicycle. The echo of your footsteps along the grass, an arrhythmic cymbal instrument to it. You’re seconds away from the summit, you feel. Seconds. The chime signals again. Sounding closer. But you can tell now it’s coming from the mountain. If only you stop to peek over the edge. But You continue the pilgrimage. But answers you seek are but a moment away as you follow the upward spiraling trail.
Swiftly, a dark tube like figure is shooting upward into the skies past you and the narrow mountain edge, its velocity creating echoes of fabric blowing in the wind with the length of the figure seemingly miles long. The chime sound rings again. And you learn it’s coming from the long formed figure. The figure dive drops, curling through the sky until it notices you in its field of vision. A tightness is felt in your chest and a pit of fear deepens inside of your stomach as the flying reptilian figure makes its way towards you. It is a dragon. Wingless. Colorful. Hypnotic. An asiatic dragon, gracefully rushing towards you as the silent atmosphere houses echoes of its elegance. The dragon loosely coils itself up, slowing down, lowering its face to yours. pushing steam from nostrils like a broken pressurized pipe in the flamingo sunset skies.
Tianshen the dragon, pauses, watching you. Glaring at you, it seems.
For but a moment. Only to then blast upward towards what appears to be the mountain summit, waiting for you. You follow suit. Rushing.
You finally arrive at the top.
Your body sore from the trek. Your journey coming to a close.
But Tianshen the dragon isn’t there.
It is said that those who catch a glimpse of Tianshen, are forever changed. For in order to spot such rarity one must be in highest of heights and the purest of pure.
The story of sighting Tianshen is the rare opportunity one has to see Gemini in their fullness.
It does not happen often.
For Tianshen to reveal itself to you, is indicative of your purity.
And even then, the sight is fleeting. And you’re liable to forget.
Welcome to…the “end” of Gemini season.
Listen to the Full Podcast Episode of Gemini, Planet Mercury, and the Element Mercury (HG)