Note: This turned out to be a very long piece, even after cutting over 1,500 words. How much you read is up to you, but it felt important for me to write it. Thank you for visiting.

Synchronicity

In May of 2024, I had become aware of several synchronicities. Barbara Marciniak, who began channeling a Pleiadian collective in 1988, and her first book Bringers of the Dawn, were both mentioned seemingly out of the blue on three separate podcasts within a week. And in two of those podcasts, the hosts and guests shared experiences brought back from each of their recent journeys to Egypt. Plus, one of the guests channeled Pleaidians.

At this same time, I had been searching characteristics of various galactic races, and under the info about the Pleiadians, Barbara Marciniak was again mentioned, along with Bringers of the Dawn. There was definite meaning in this for me. I knew Barbara Marciniak, and the Pleiadians, and I had been on her first group tour to Egypt in 1990. It seemed that my Higher Self was trying to get my attention. And I knew why. There were residual feelings I needed to revisit, maybe write about.

In June of 2024, however, I fractured my right arm at the shoulder in a weird fall that affected even my hand, and typing anything had to be put on a long hold.

A couple of months ago, similar synchronicities again appeared and my thoughts cycled back to Barbara Marciniak, the Pleaidians, and the Egypt tour. These were things that before last year I had hardly ever thought about. There were reasons for that. There were aspects of that thirty-five years ago me that I had put off reconciling within myself. Things I’d buried but never forgotten. I knew, however, that navigating the higher frequencies of this unprecedented time in the evolution of consciousness required a lot of letting go.

Meeting Barbara

I had met and become friends with Barbara Marciniak in 1987, the year before she began to channel. She joined the discussion group based on the Seth material channeled by Jane Roberts in the 1970’s, which Frank, my then partner of twelve years, and I held in our new Chapel Hill, NC home. Barbara had shared that she knew she would soon be channeling galactic beings. Later that year, Frank and I married and for complicated reasons unmarried eight months later. Afterwards, Frank moved to the Asheville mountains, while I stayed in Chapel Hill.

By then Marciniak was regularly channeling a Pleaidian collective that brought forth a revolutionary perspective on who we are, why we’re here, and what’s really going on. I became part of the spiritual family that had gathered together for ongoing sessions with the P’s, as we called them. Over the decades, Barbara and her work became internationally known and respected.

Please note that I mean no disrespect by sometimes referring to Barbara by her last name, Marciniak. I took to doing that because there were two other close Barbara’s in my life at the time. But I also secretly really liked the sound of her name. I know this is weird, but I’m a word person, and there is something satisfying about the letter sounds and the even weight of the easy to pronounce syllables. This little quirk was totally unconnected to the Being herself, who I always called Barbara.

Not My Thing

I never wanted to go to Egypt. Unlike many in our group, I’d never felt any deep connection to ancient Egyptian times. Besides, I had no money for such a trip, no passport, and much past and present drama I was dealing with. At that time it had only been a year since I had found some resolution to a thirteen year inter-dimensional relationship, one of two I later wrote about in my 2013 memoir, Rare Atmosphere: An Extraordinary Inter-dimensional Affair of the heart.

The Egypt trip was scheduled for February of 1990. Although I believe Barbara had been to Egypt more than once on her own, this was to be her first group tour. Several weeks before, I drove to Asheville from Chapel Hill to visit with mountain friends and also attend a couple of scheduled events with Marciniak and the P’s. One afternoon, when Barbara and I were visiting with my ex-husband Frank at his house, she suddenly turned to me and said, You’re supposed to go to Egypt.

I felt a little jolt. I don’t have any desire to go to Egypt, I replied. And I don’t have that kind of money.

There was a long silence, then Barbara looked directly at me. They [meaning the P’s] are telling me that you’re supposed to go to Egypt, she said. Another pause, then, I will lend you the money.

You’d think I would have jumped at the offer, but instead I felt extreme discomfort. I had always struggled with the “manifesting financial abundance” part of the spiritual program, and I didn’t know how or when I would ever be able to pay back what, at that time, was an overwhelming amount. Somehow, however, Barbara convinced me that it was important for me to go, and surmising that this was coming from my own Higher Self, I finally agreed. Five minutes later, she was on the phone calling Toby at Power Places Tours in California adding me to the list of travelers.

I will spare you the frantic details of all I had to get done in a very short amount of time to prepare for the trip. Although one thing I will share is that through a circuitous series of connections and circumstances, it was the ultra-conservative liberal-hating NC senator, Jesse Helms, that issued me my rush passport. I chuckled at the thought of what he might have done if he had known that I was using it for a woo-woo trip to Egypt with a bunch of ETs.

After Egypt

In the two years following the Egypt trip (which I will get back to), my life began falling apart — financially, physically, and emotionally, including existing issues with uterine fibroids that had become exacerbated. By November 1991, I decided to close up shop in Chapel Hill and move to Asheville. Always on my mind, especially when I was at the group gatherings with Marciniak, was the fact that I owed her money I couldn’t pay back.

After making arrangements to rent two upstairs rooms and the unused downstairs sun room in Frank’s house, an arrangement neither of us was happy about, my life continued its meltdown. I was broke and sick and for a short time I found myself on Food Stamps and Medicaid, and eventually had to declare bankruptcy. The humiliation was gigantic.

During this time, Barbara periodically phoned me, wanting to know exactly when I was going to be able to pay her back. Each time she called, even though it was not often, my solar plexus spun out of control. After hanging up, I would dissolve into tears. Eventually, I begged Frank to lend me the money, which he reluctantly did. Down the road, I was able to pay him back.

As these memories recently resurfaced, I knew that the remnants of this were some of the things that came up to be cleared. It was time. I owned that whether it had been Barbara’s projection, or my perception, it was I who had allowed myself to feel judged and shamed and like a “spiritual failure” for not being able to “manifest” according to Marciniak’s or the Pleiadian’s or any “new age” rules at the time. I had carried feelings of shame and failure inside of me for decades. But viewing this from the vantage point of the Being I am now, it seemed almost ludicrous that I had allowed this to go on for so long. Even though I had been certain that after I paid Marciniak back, she had never given me or the loan a second thought, I irrationally felt I would always feel “less than” in her presence. It was time to regain my own self-respect.

This is what I did. I called up and embraced that long ago me. I told her that I loved her, that she had always done the best she could, and even with everything going on in her life at that time, she actually achieved much more than she ever gave herself credit for. I reminded her that what anyone thought of her was none of her business. I told her that in many ways she was truly a remarkable human being. I then imagined a hypothetical meeting with the long ago Barbara. I looked into her eyes. For a couple of seconds, anxiety arose, but I chose to stand in the largest of my Self, unburdened by old stories, heart wide open. And I felt free.

Egypt Tour: Cairo and Luxor

When I awoke on the day I was leaving for Egypt, I found I had a huge and painful cold sore developing near the middle of my top lip. Bear with me, this later becomes significant. When I got to the airport and met up with the rest of the group, one of my friends actually had a tube of Acyclovir cold sore medicine, which she gave me to keep. I was infinitely grateful. We flew from Raleigh-Durham to Kennedy Airport in NYC where we boarded our Egypt flight. The Boeing 747 would make one stop in Paris, then continue on to Cairo. If you can believe it, our night flight was actually half empty. I had a whole row of five seats on which to stretch out.

To tell the truth, my memories of Egypt are scattered and incomplete. I mostly remember impressions of places and there are some vivid feelings and experiences that have stayed with me. That’s what I will share with you.

Our journey began in Cairo. I had never seen so much unorganized traffic in my life. Drivers made their own lanes, never stopped for lights. People crossed the road by weaving in and out between the moving cars. The city was crowded and loud and I was not impressed.

During our time in Cairo, we visited Saqqara to see what was called a step pyramid, the oldest pyramid in the world. We also went to the Cairo museum.

After Cairo we took a sleeper train to Luxor. When we boarded the train we were told that it was running behind schedule and we were going to be late. We were told the train to Luxor was always late, had never been on time. There were people who would be meeting us in Luxor, so Barbara suggested that we “warp” the train, meaning literally accelerate time. Seemed fairly doable to us. After all we were traveling with a boatload of ETs. So we all held the vision, imagined getting into the station early, laughed and joked and talked ourselves into a different reality. And it worked! The train arrived ahead of schedule, something, we were told, no one had seen for as long as they could remember.

I loved Luxor. It was warmer, more open, less frantic, and on the Nile. We stayed at a Hilton Hotel. In Luxor we met up with our Egyptian guide, Emile, who Barbara seemed to know. He was warm, amusing, intelligent, and soon became one of us. When we visited the temples, he shared historical information and translations of hieroglyphs with deep knowledge, vibrance, and humor, often adding some of his personal, more esoteric experiences and stories.

While staying in Luxor, we visited many magnificent sites. At some of the sites, we were able to find a relatively private corner in which Barbara channeled the added, larger perspective from the P’s. Here are some of the temples we visited:

* Edfu, the Temple of Horus, and one of the most well-preserved.
* Karnak, which was a huge, amazing complex dedicated to Amun, Mut, and Khonsu.
* Hatshepsut, called The Mortuary Temple, the main sanctuary of the god Amun. Emile called it “hot chicken soup.”
* The Ramesseum dedicated to Ramses II. The P’s told us he identified himself as Amun-Ra. They then turned to me, said something amusing about my name, and called me RA-chelle.
* Temple of Luxor, also a large complex. I was taken with Luxor temple. I remember feeling something deep, but vague. On one visit, I had wandered off by myself and entered the Holy of Holies. Observing how the Egyptian reliefs had been painted-over into cold Roman frescoes depicting Roman emperors, I felt a surge of emotion. It came to me that the man I called Yashu in my memoir, the one I was inter-dimensionally involved with for thirteen years, had been one of those Romans who had “desecrated” (my word) my beautiful temple. The realization was overwhelming, and tears started to surface. Later, alone in my room, I wrote in my journal and cried it out.
* Dendera, Temple of Hathor, my favorite place in Luxor. Stunning. Hathor, Goddess of love, beauty, music, and dance; Goddess of motherhood and fertility; Sky Goddess; Star Goddess… One of the best preserved temples, with blue ceilings still visible, one of them an amazing astronomical depiction of the goddess Nut. And there were the enigmatic “melted” stairs, and the accessible rooftop, where we danced under a clouded sky.

In the interest of narrative length, which is already out of control, all I will say about the Valley of the Kings is that I recall a meditation we did inside a pitch black, not a crack of light, tomb. It was terrifying.

And we also visited and spoke with weavers who made gorgeous Egyptian rugs, ate lunch at the Country Club, and of course, took a wonderful boat ride on the Nile.

One more journey I’d like to mention was a day trip to Abydos, Temple of Seti I, another place that left an impression upon me both intriguing and disturbing. The temple’s unique seven sanctuaries spoke to me. Each was a rectangular chamber with a light window positioned high above that let a shaft of sun shine down upon you like a blessing. Each felt sacred to me. One thing that for whatever reason was disturbing was the Osireion — a cenotaph (a tomb-like structure that doesn't contain a body) dedicated to Osiris. I did not get a good feeling about descending into it and opted out.

And, it was during our time in Luxor, that the other significant event I mentioned happened, one that left the emotional residue I was now intent upon clearing. There was a couple in our group who had brought their seven year old daughter with them. I will call her Karina. Even though she was a bit of a “wild child,” or maybe because of it, I adored her. I was very close with her mother, and at times when the grownups traveled, I had stayed at their house and taken care of Karina and her middle brother. I’m not sure exactly where this incident occurred, but most of us were eating lunch outdoors at a long table. Karina’s mother was sitting next me, and Karina was playing around behind us. At one point, Barbara pulled out a large black crystal, obsidian I think. Some folks asked to see it and it was passed around the table.

Karina was behind my chair, apparently happily dancing and spinning around. I did not see her, but I must have turned my head just a bit and in the next moment, her spinning fist accidentally punched me right in the spot where my cold sore was not yet healed. What happened next on my part was totally reactive with no time to think anything through. Karina’s punch was so fast and unexpected that I teared up from the extreme pain, yelled out loudly, and unconsciously threw Barbara’s obsidian, which I was holding at the time, across the table. Karina, of course, got hysterical and ran off, her mother following after her.

It had been difficult for me to release the feelings of embarrassment, sorrow, and shame for what I had done to Karina, even inadvertently. I know she also felt assaulted. And what a drama queen I was. I, of course, apologized profusely and many times to everyone, but my relationship with Karina and her mother remained distant for the duration of the tour. Even though it’s probable that in time Karina, like Barbara, had not given a second thought to me and the event, I wound up carrying it for decades. I have always felt deeply apologetic for my part in what happened. But I also recognize that for whatever reasons beyond my conscious understanding, it was not deliberate. It was time to let it go, and I find that as I write this, it is already dissolving.

Pyramids at Giza

Initiation

The day finally came for our private night time initiation in the King’s Chamber of the Great Pyramid. Although we had visited the pyramids in daylight, this was a whole other experience. It must have been a sight seeing twenty of us with backpacks and flashlights trekking across the desert in the moonlight. Once inside, all I recall about getting to the top was climbing seemingly endless steps by torchlight.

We stopped first in the Queen’s Chamber to meditate and chant in the dark. The acoustics were incredible, but I felt a little unsettled with so many of us lying on the floor in that small space. Afterwards, we climbed to the King’s Chamber. Once there, we formed a circle centered in front of where Barbara was sitting and sat down on the floor. The red granate “sarcophagus” was to our right. We unpacked our candles, and any crystals we had brought, and arranged them in front of us. We lit the candles and turned off the flashlights. I had long believed that the King’s Chamber had not been a burial chamber, but possibly an energy healing and rejuvenation chamber; that the sarcophagus had not been a coffin, but a regeneration chamber. The atmosphere in the room to me had felt sacred and expansive.

I forgot exactly what we did next, but it must have been a meditation and chanting. After that the ceremony began, led by the P's. Each person would be called up. When my turn came, I heard — RAchelle, your name has been called. I rose and took my sit on the floor in front of the P’s. Align your twelve suns, they directed. And I aligned my twelve suns. I wish I could remember exactly what came next. All I know is that it was a message addressed to the largest of my Self. After that I was invited to lie down in the sarcophagus. It was strange, but I had no fear. Once inside it, I silently affirmed my own healing and regeneration, thanked whoever might be listening, and quietly exited. After everyone had been called, we sat for a while in silence, the energy in the chamber palpably alive. Soon we blew out the candles, packed our things, and reverently exited.

Even though I realize that the me I was then might not have understood the deeper significance of why she had been called to go to Egypt, the me I am now recognizes that the places we visited, the people we met, and the wealth of information shared by Barbara and the P’s was an extraordinary and multi-leveled experience.

On the plane ride home, my luggage got off in Paris, but I wouldn’t get there myself until my next great adventure in 2009.