Today's Reading: "O Vale do Amanhecer (Valley of Dawn) was founded by a medium called
Tia Neiva, and is located in the city of Planaltina, about 42 km from Brasilia. This is considered the most impressive case of religious syncretism in Brazil. The valley integrates beliefs and entities of several religions, such as Afro-Brazilian, indian, egyptian, gypsy, incas, aztecas, maias and even extra-terrestrial. The scenery of the valley, with symbols and images mixed with the typical costumes of the mediums make it an unforgetable place."
"Thirty miles north of Brasília – the sleek, space-age capital of Brazil – lies a rough-hewn little town called the Valley of the Dawn. And high above the Valley of the Dawn, untold miles high, hovers a fleet of vessels from a far-off planet known to its inhabitants as Capela. The fleet's existence is common knowledge in the town below, but not easily confirmed by standard scientific methods. You could look for the ships all day – the sky is vast and beautiful over these flat, desolate highlands – but you wouldn't see them. Nor would radar pick them up, or radio, or satellite reconnaissance. Contact, in short, must be made through means other than those provided by the material world. And here in the Valley it is made at least twice a day, 365 days a year. The secret behind such regular contact lies not so much in technology as in a steady supply of technicians: out of the Valley's roughly 5000 residents, all but a handful are active psychic mediums. A demographic like that would not be easy to come by in most places in the world, but Brasília and its immediate environs are not very much like most places in the world. Brasília sprouted fully-formed in the middle of Brazil's otherwise empty Central Plateau just over three decades ago. Planning the city down to its minutest details, Brasília's architects intended it to stand as a monument to technocracy and rational design. But the Brazilian people have turned it into something much more interesting: they have made it a beacon of the irrational, investing the city with a millennial significance that approaches that of Jerusalem, or Mecca, and draws the mystically inclined from all over Brazil.
The Valley of the Dawn is only one out of hundreds of local sects, communities, and other visionary gatherings, but as the best-known of them it can count on a continuous influx of enthusiastic believers. So that when the calls go out for the Ceremony of the Burning Star each afternoon at 12:30 and 2:30 (with a 6:30 session added on weekdays), there is always at least a dozen or so mediums available to participate, and often as many as a hundred. They gather at the edge of town in an area that, with its elaborate artificial waterworks and brightly painted abstract monuments, takes monumental modernism on a long detour through the aesthetic of the miniature golf course. Likewise, the vestments of the group can't seem to decide between the solemnity of the Roman Catholic Church and that of a Dungeons-and-Dragons players' convention. Men (or jaguars, as they are known in the often bewildering mythology of the Valley) come wrapped in a floor-length cape that rises up into an ear-high, Barnabas Collins-issue collar. Women (nymphs) get colorful costume dresses that vary according to storybook notions of historical reference, a toga hinted at here, a medieval wimple there. Accessories abound – ceremonial swords and lances, badges and medallions stamped with obscure symbols.
Beneath the watchful eyes of a two-story-tall cutout image of Mother Yara, Amerindian water-goddess and patron-spirit of this ceremony, the celebrants slowly march to their positions along the edge of the "Burning Star" – a 100-foot-wide pool of water shaped like a Star of David. An elliptical, antennalike sculpture juts up from the center of the pool, and at the points of the star loudspeakers blare out jaunty prerecorded hymns followed by a droning, Indo-Afro-Assyrian-inflected liturgy that the congregation echoes in hardy unison: "Oh Simiromba of the Great East of Oxalá, in the Enchanted World of the Himalayas, prepare my way, illuminate my spirit, so that I may go forth fearless in the final advance of a new age..." Contact has commenced. A psychic uplink to the interplanetary fleet has been established, and some of the worshippers now show signs of possession, convulsing and moaning softly. They are absorbing Earth's negative spirits, the ones that converge on world capitals like Brasília, the ones that spur the leaders of nations on to strife and corruption, and they are transmitting them to the ships, where they will be converted into positive energy and beamed back in a well-defined current that flows down through the antenna in the middle of the Burning Star and on to the sect's temple in the center of town. From there the energy will be transported back to the city by the nightly stream of Brasilia's broken souls that passes through the temple in search of succor.
The Valley is a kind of cosmic power plant, in other words – the administrative center of a vast, technometaphysical circulatory system, with the capital's great reservoir of bad vibes at one end and the space fleet's transforming purity at the other. Where the cycle starts and where it terminates, however, is hard to judge. A safe guess, ventured at a safe remove from Brasilia's mythic atmosphere, would say the ships are the end-product, conjured by the seething mass of hopes and disappointments Brasilia represents. But from the shores of the Burning Star no guess looks safe, and it's just as easy to believe Brasilia itself is the conjured object, reinvented daily by the aliens." (The Cult and Cults of Brasília by Julian Dibbell)