Legends of the Cavitation Bridge House

Time moves faster than you think...

Pearls in the Process of Being Opened: yourpearl.mystrikingly.com

Out of Anne-Chloé’s impulse, the Cavitation Bridge House rises into being. In the months leading up to the Bridge House, we meet in not-so-private meetings, deepening our context, making our lists of things we must do with each other. Clinton collects olives and acorns for culinary projects. From all corners of the world we gather gifts of the various cultures to bring to the convention that will happen on the hill in Villa Seli just past the olive and orange orchard and grove.

It seems like the beginning of the Bridge House is forever away. But then, time moves faster than you think.

Pretty soon, everyone has a glass and a mug in the kitchen with a blue piece of tape and their name on it. Traditions are established fast: 5pm each day is the Amazing Space. Fridays are reserved Adventure Day. The car’s name is Wanda. Spaceholding for the house changes daily. Spaceholding for lunch changes daily. Lunch is the one shared meal, and it’s from 2:00-3:00 each day. Morning hours are quiet hours for the writers. Quiet does not exclude EHPs or screaming. The writers write better with the screams. Quiet hours is about odds-and-ends sounds that emerge from moving through the world without consciousness or intention.

The energetic structure of the Cavitation Bridge House is established, and even though it is subject to the forces of evolution and upgrade, it is clear and solid in way.

Time moves faster than you think.

You get to know your rhythms and you get to know the rhythms of others in a place such as the Cavitation Bridge House. Deny it all you want, but rhythms exist even in a space of rapid transformation. In the world of modern culture personal development, a person is encouraged to wield a kind of metallic force to shift their rhythms. Be disciplined, get motivated, set the alarm for 5:00am, get a 6-pack, get your bonus, put in the hours. There is nothing magical about these goals and there is no magic in the methods used to reach them.

The Cavitation Bridge House is a bubble of culture inflated in the midst of Crete. Cavitation Bridge House transformation is Archiarchal in nature meaning that sometimes a person will go through an evolutionary process and suddenly the rhythms that had defined some part of who they were just sort of… vaporize. If you train yourself to pay attention to a person’s rhythms when you are in a transformational environment, then you get to notice and authentically cheer for the wonder of a person’s rhythms spontaneously falling away.

Sophia Wegele became an incessant celebrator. She became an angel of celebration. Anytime celebration was happening in the Bridge House, she would rush over to join in the celebration. She would juice the space with love and joy. She didn’t even need to know what we were celebrating!

Meredith Witt learned to split her attention into multiple forks so that she could simultaneously write on a white sheet, hold 4 markers, listen to what someone was saying, and speak all at the same time. She learned this skill over the course of 3 days. 3 days!!! It is incredible how quick learning happens in a rapid learning environment with a team by your side. Meredith also became an Angel.

Gabriela Kłara reunited with the Beings who sent her to Gaia. She has so much information from “the other side” for us mortals and she has so much information about us mortals to bring to “the other side.” She is gathering intel for projects we cannot even imagine. She grew into a more perfect conduit for all that. She can look at people now and be with them while she speaks from “the other side.” She can be fully here. She has left the safety of her protective glass bubble.

Gabriela Fagundes discovered that she could not be in Reality. In the midst of many other actions and activities happening around her, Clinton held an ad hoc process for her to finally come into contact with Reality and to be able to speak her way into Reality with the simple clarity of “as-is-ing.” “My foot is on the floor. The orange is here. The orange is sour. I am standing up.”

Susanne Hützler began a conversation that I don’t think will soon end with the God Poseidon. One morning, Susanne Hützler walked down the stairs of the house into the living room, radiating like a lighthouse. We all knew what had happened because we had heard the yells coming from her room upstairs just minutes before: “Yes! Go! Let your heart speak the words! You are ANGRY!” Susanne had held space. When Susanne holds space, she radiates. When one woman radiates it sends a ripple of golden vibration through the energetic spheres. It fertilizes seeds. I say yes for more Susanne Hützler radiance.

Sometimes in video games there is something like a bonus level. You think the game is over, and then BLAM, a whole new adventure beyond what was promised awaits you. It’s delightful, like finding a gold coin in your pocket. It is also delightful like watching Daway Chou-Ren over the course of 6 weeks as he deepened his learning of 3-ball juggling. There was once a time when you’d only see Daway doing a 3-ball Cascade or Reverse Cascade. Nowadays, sometimes it’s the 3-ball Shower, or the Half-Box, or this funky maneuver Clinton showed us. Daway doesn’t furrow his brow when he’s learning. Daway smiles. How often he brought the sheen of the shift from Conscious Incompetence to Conscious Competence to our spaces of connection or intimacy before films or late at night in the living room.

Marina Mello’s heart shattered itself open wide, tenderized by the people of the world. Her camera was almost as everywhere as her noticing. I will never forget one Adventure Day when we stopped in a shop on the way to Heraklion for coffee. Behind the counter, 3 Greek women whisked and whirled and created love and artistry for customers. When we left the shop, Clinton conducted us to all-at-once say aloud to the 3 Women: “Thank you!” and we said their names. But as we were leaving, the broken heart of Marina needed to say something. These women had touched her, the way they struggled to let in the appreciation for who they were (who they REALLY were) was… well, she needed to say something. She needed to tell them she loved them. She went back in and completed the communication. I did not get to hear her words, but I did not miss the very real reality that a door was opening up in that cafe, and it wasn’t the front door or the back door, it was a side door, and at any time from now until the end, any of those three women could walk through it.

Lisa Ommert became the kind of asshole that can move mountains and that can also make people walk straighter and, sure, I’ll say it, can invoke Coach Gleeson from his slouch into doing whatever he needs to do. Lisa Ommert entered the Bridge House a little pinned still in the echoes of hierarchy. The weeks went by, she brought herself forward more, and on the celebration of her birth, she called upon the Women of Earth to Call her Being Through, and not just hers, but also the Beings of the other women. Her check-out from the Bridge House landed simply in me: She could be relaxed, sitting there present and clear and confident, right down to the nerves. A good state to be in leading up to world travel, no?

Vera Franco was our constant companion during the 3-day KETB. Even when the other Lab Trainers were attending to other things, Vera stayed on, and late into the night, the Trainer-Trainer in her fired up about keeping the wheel rolling for the next generation of ETB Trainers to step into the world. Once, she heard a process happening downstairs with Sophia Wegele. The process was stuck somewhere. Down the stairs zoomed Vera and took her perch next to Meredith, and together, then helped Sophia discover a charred part of her bubble connected to the self-abuse her family has undertaken as part of its legacy. Vera is Love in the shape of Evolution in those spaces, laying out the bricks on the bridge that let a person step step step into their potential, and into the communion with Gaia that they long for.

Clinton Callahan! Man, that cat can write! I should have known having been in Writing Houses with him before, but somehow it just never registered that when that man is behind his computer and not holding life-changing, Gaia-loving processes for people, he is writing and writing and writing. And then he hops off his computer, opens his mouth, and it might as well be that someone just carries around a tape recorder to capture the precious openings he creates and pearls he drops so that they could be transcribed into more writing. Sometimes words can’t capture Reality, and so Clinton also took to photographing and photographing and photographing, and it wasn’t so uncommon in one of his uploads of a splash of photos to find that he had captured you in a private time of consideration or in the midst of writing or conversation or collaboration, immortalizing never-get-back-able moments in HD.

Anne-Chloé Destremau shone on like the torch bearer at the prow of a ship in the darkness. Anne-Chloé is another one of those speakers where I refused to any longer go through the pain of not being able to write in my Beep! Book fast enough when she was freestyling, so I guess I probably have a few recordings now that begin with her in mid-word or mid-sentence. She reorders people and spaces with her phrases. You could say that she is at the cutting edge, but in reality it is more like she is the one cutting the edge, asking the next question that takes us in sadness, fear, anger, and joy into that next “unknown country from whose bourn no traveller returns…”

Time moves faster than you think. It arrives and then it is gone. It will do that no matter what you do and no matter what you fill it with. Often, this recognition shocks me, so much so that I once received an experiment from Ana Norembuena to spend a few minutes looking into my own eye in the mirror each day and being with the experience that time moves, that it only moves in one direction, and that I was looking into the eye of a dying man.

I was not the last to arrive at the Bridge House, but I was the last to leave. We’d stripped the beds and cleaned the floors and divvied the food and cleaned the plates. I was running around the house after everyone was in the driveway, making sure the windows were locked. I flicked the last of my Black Holes, and soon the energetic space of the Cavitation Bridge House vanished forever.