October 6, 2004Sedona Arizona called our number, and we came running. To be more accurate, my brother called from Sedona, and we went driving. It was a treat to be invited to a desert oasis as beautiful as this town.
The drive to Sedona is like none other. Approaching from the East as we did, we drove through hours of desert and Indian Reservations. Hardly an animal was visible for hundreds of miles, then around a bend we’d come upon a herd of dozens of antelope. Their fur is desert-colored, so it would be easy to miss every one of them. I suspect we passed unknowing by more of them than we saw. The music from the Navajo radio stations was pleasant to my ears, rhythmic and harmonious and somewhat hypnotic. Buttes and mesas made a perfect backdrop for the music… or perhaps the music was the perfect soundtrack for the scenery. I loved the massive mesas with smoothly curved rock edges that looked as if gigantic standing people with featureless faces were crowded together to form the pillar on which the flat top rested. I called those mesas the The Ancestors. (I wish I knew how to upload photos to show you what I mean!) The feeling that comes from those rocks is ancient. It’s easy to understand how generations upon generations of people have had mystical experiences at the feet of those mesas.
My favorite formations were the bigger-than-life red rocks, soaring as high as the equivalent of a fifteen-story building, with three-story-tall, two-city-block-long caves in the front. In several places, Navajo businesspeople had set up stores just outside those caves. I have stopped at such places just so I could be near the mouth of the cave, breathing the breath of the Earth that wafts out.
The visit with my brother, and with my mom who flew out to join us, was a satisfying thing. Family connections are good to reinforce, and also good to keep at a distance. Mom and I both talk too much, so it’s good that we’re not near one another. It would wear us out. We enjoyed a few days of eating and sightseeing and eating and gabbing and eating. My brother rightly called our visit The Eating Club.
A highlight was when a friend took us on a hike through the wilderness outside Sedona. David, who runs www.nhne.com, is a living cornucopia of interesting projects, ideas, people and places. We had no idea what our hike would lead to, but knowing it was an adventure was good enough. As David drove us to the trailhead, we shared our recent dreams. Gary had just dreamed about seeing a rattlesnake, which had no rattles and was not dangerous. Our interpretations of that dream were pretty lame, but we tried. Then we arrived at a park trailhead in what appeared to be a plateau surrounded by massive rock formations. We hiked as swiftly as I have ever hiked for maybe an hour through wild terrain far from the regular path system.
As we approached the foot of one of these red-rock cliffs of The Ancestors, I felt the living essence of the rocks in that area. The aura was thick with a sense of centuries of life. You could say it felt like the presence of The Ancestors whose history was absorbed into those rocks. Before walking up to the rock face, I took a respectful moment to align my thoughts and my presence with that of the area.
I would have sworn I heard the words “Come In” whispered in my ear. Nobody was standing near me, and anyway I didn’t see a way to go “in” to a giant rock. So I shuffled carefully along the narrow trail and peeked around the next edge. To my utter shock, there opened up a cavernous ancient cliff dwelling!
We picked our way past walls through the rubble of ceiling-rocks which fall off in sheets periodically. I was trying to identify the nature of the cave painting ahead of me, when I was startled by the sight of a rattlesnake lying on the clay floor. I’d never seen one outside a zoo before, so I yelled “rattlesnake!” and jumped away. The guys came running, with their cameras. Then I remembered Gary’s dream. This snake lay there without moving, without rattling or coiling. David says he’s never heard of a rattler that didn’t coil and rattle as a warning. Its rattles seemed slightly deformed; they were very small and narrow. We marveled over the way Gary’s dream perfectly mirrored reality. It felt good to be able to interact with a snake in a neighborly way, without snake and humans both running in fear.
The petroglyphs were a wonder to see. This cave was so extremely remote that there was nothing to keep us back from the actual ruins and paintings. Of course, we were as careful as could be. It felt as if we were tiptoeing through somebody’s home, only they weren’t home and it had fallen into disrepair. I wondered if the residents might still be living in another dimension of this place, side by side but unable to perceive us. If time is not linear but holographic and simultaneous (as I suspect it is) then that scenario might well be true. That would explain the profound sense of history being alive. I wondered if their shaman might be having a prickly sense of the presence of someone from another dimension walking through his space unseen. He might be tempted to call out for assistance from the benevolent spirits of the future who were visiting him. We sent love and good wishes out into the cave, just in case. If that old shaman had asked us for a vision of what his future would bring, we’d have been hard pressed to think of a positive way to describe it. Maybe I could have told him that it would involve embracing change and joining with other cultures.
An additional leg of the hike took us another half-hour farther back into the wilderness. David led us to an even more remote and high-up cliff dwelling. It had fewer buildings and rock art, but the view was incomparable. We could see over the top of the desert for miles in all directions but one. Lunch in that cave tasted better for all the effort that went into hiking and scaling the cliff.
Heading back, we got lost for a time. It was actually fun to bushwhack through the scrub and thorns to find our way to the trail again. None of the three of us got worried, I’m happy to say. That would have cut down on the fun quotient. My legs received plenty of cac-u-puncture from the long cactus thorns we passed. At one point I felt something funny in my arm and looked to see two long thorns protruding from my wrist and forearm. It didn’t hurt much. Maybe it cured some ailment within me, as acupuncture might have. A butterfly fluttered around us as we searched for our trail, and followed us all the way back to the car. It was a perfect ending for the day’s expedition.
More southwest adventures will be revealed in the next installment of this story. See you back on the blog in another couple of days!* * * * * *
I took a warm bath tonight, and drifted into that semi-sleep state. Drifting peacefully between the worlds, I realized I was seeing 3 beings of light in front of me. They were profoundly familiar, but I couldn’t see them too clearly. Their unusual names were from some other time and/or realm.
They said they were there to celebrate with me. “Celebrate what?” I asked. They said that as of today, my journey from the day I was born was complete. All debts were paid, all tasks were accomplished. Interesting! They said we should have a party. I asked if they had chocolate there, and they laughingly said yes, but didn’t offer me any, I’m sorry to say. Instead, they lined up before me and said they had gifts. They all spoke telepathically, with one joint thought speaking into my mind.
The first man held out a box for me. It was a mirrored box with a fluttering white butterfly for a lid! Its wings glowed pure white, and I was struck with its sense of purity. Reaching for the lid, I saw that the butterfly was real and living! It telepathically told me that this gift was also from Nature, thanking me for my work on its behalf. The butterfly said “I give you my children.” The box opened, and inside was a pair of earrings. Each was a tiny glowing white butterfly, living as an earring hanging from the silver hook. I reached through the mist that barely separated my world from theirs, and felt my hand going into a slightly different dimension. I put the earrings in my ears, and was suffused with such a sense of the purity of the shining butterflies that my eyes teared up.The middle one of the beings of light handed me his box. It contained a large, thick, leather-bound book with gemstones on the cover: a big sapphire, a big ruby, emerald and diamond. I felt them, but my vision was too unclear to determine their pattern. He said “This is your Book of Life. It is yours now.” I flipped the edges of the pages to riffle through the whole book, and saw quick colorful images of endless faces, places, thoughts and events. There seemed to be summaries of lessons learned too. I was overwhelmed that I had earned the right to read my Book of Life.
The third man held out a huge bouquet of roses, my favorite flower. I was unable to focus on the entire bouquet at once, it was so expansive. One at a time, I looked at each flower and smelled its fragrance. Every single rose was unique in color, form and fragrance. The being said “These are your students.” The bouquet was, I realized, infinite. He handed it to me, and I held it against my chest. Gradually all the roses sunk into my heart, leaving my hands empty but my heart full.
I was nearly speechless. Some part of me realized I was lying in my tub still, but most of me was invested in this vision. They asked me if I had anything to say, and I joked about being naked in the tub when they called this party, so how could I give a speech. Then I sobered my attitude, in view of what they had just done for me. I thanked them and declared that I wanted to dedicate the rest of my days to inspiring people and increasing the love and light in the world. As a final decree, I told them that I was absolutely refusing to do things the hard way any more. I have paid my dues and then some, so I refuse to be given any more difficult assignments. They smiled and agreed.
They left, and I returned to my awareness of the cold bath water. I pondered the ramifications of this ceremony. Could I be nuts? Was it my subconscious? Could it have been real? Was it “just” a dream? Would anyone else on earth believe me if I told them about it? Gary would, and so would my friends who know me well.
I am choosing to write about this on the blog. No matter how the various readers decide to interpret my experience, I am feeling blissful and serene. My hope is that one person may read this and feel their horizons expand somewhat. Life is huge and hopeful, ever spiraling upward and balancing itself out. If we think we know a lot of facts about how life is, we blind ourselves to the unexpected, that we could never dream up. I KNOW I don’t know much at all about the nature of reality. That may be why I experience so much that is beyond the edges of most peoples’ understanding.
Maybe it was just a pleasant dream, but heck, maybe I’m done! All debts paid, all tasks accomplished.* * * * * *
September 20, 2004Talking on the couch with Gary recently, our dilemma resolved into clarity. We were going over our zillion life options, when suddenly we felt visited by wisdom. We began discussing the fact that, if left to our own devices, we knew exactly what we wanted to do. Both of us did. Our problem was that logic and social normalcy didn’t apply to our preferred options. In every other way, the options we would choose fit our skills and choices and tastes perfectly.
We prefer to choose to build a small home on the land in the mountains, and live there half the year. Winter in the mountains isn’t too comfy. The other half of the year we can spend in New Zealand, as our hearts cry to do. There’s no explanation for our obsession with New Zealand, except that we both have it, so why ignore it.
So many pieces fell into place when we realized how deeply we’ve already made our choices. The ways and means seem to be there, to make both happen.
Now the last 6 months makes sense, that we’ve spent combing through every motive and desire in our entire beings. It’s been a necessary time of introspection and sifting. No stone has been left unturned, in our self-analyses. Now it all makes sense. We needed to know our options, and our real priorities. To choose a life of that unusual nature, we had to be crystal clear about what we want to do and why.
I feel brave and clean and clear. I’ve studied everything about myself that I could find, mind, emotions and soul, and can now make decisions based on true self-knowledge. It’s a form of maturity that has developed. Soul maturity, maybe.
So stand back, everybody, and watch us make it happen!* * * * * *
I love the Olympic Games. Rippling muscles glisten as human bodies honed to perfection display and defeat the limits of human capacity. My own body starts to feel fit and muscular and ready to burst into perfectly coordinated action, as I watch them.
Somewhere inside me is an athlete, the one that a major childhood injury has kept in embryonic state. I know I have what it takes to be an athlete, except for the physical capability. That one little factor. I can feel it in my psyche. Watching the athletes brings all that longing and drive and enthusiasm to the surface. I’m ready to soar, leap, fly! I’m half Greek, so it should be possible.
While the Olympics are on, I get to imagine the grand, supreme version of me that I might have become, if everything in my life had been totally different. It feels good to try on an athlete’s body, even if only mentally.
I could have been among the Olympians,
if everything had been different.
* * * * * *
Who do you think is more deserving of a freshly picked ripe strawberry, right off the vine… me, or a slimy little slug?
If you were me, you’d say “Me”. If you were the Creator, you’d say “There is plenty for everyone, and we all need to eat. Why don’t you share.”
Yeah, yeah, you old omniscient know-it-all.
This dilemma presented itself to me this afternoon. I picked the most delectable red-ripe strawberry, with its little green hat intact, only to see a baby slug burrowed head first into the side of the berry.
At first I was upset. It stole my berry. Then I thought about what that slug must be experiencing at that moment. Buried head-first into the sweetest fruit in existence. Buried in sweet juice up to her waist. If she looks around her, and all she can see is shiny bright red walls of fresh living breathing strawberry. Inhaling fragrant wafts of berried air. I can’t blame a mollusk for that kind of sensual behavior.
I walked away, leaving her to her feast of the senses. Lucky little slug. The next day I went out looking for ripe berries, and noticed that she hadn’t finished that particular strawberry. It was still hanging on the vine. I turned it over, and there she still was, unmoving. It appears that my berry-rival died of delight in the midst of her feast!
Again, my first reaction was one of anger over deprivation. Jeez, if she was going to die, why couldn’t she leave the strawberry for me and go die under a leaf somewhere? Then again, I thought of what it must have been like for her as she expired. Full gorgeous immersion of the senses in ecstasy right up til the last moment. That slug was probably glowing with gratitude and delight and appreciation of all things good.
I can hardly imagine a better way to leave this world, than being immersed in appreciating every beauty it has to offer. I can hardly imagine a better way to live.* * * * * *
The hardest part of leaving something, I believe, is the pulling away.When we are in the mountains, on the land that we hope to live on, we are happy with everything. All decisions feel right. The road ahead seems clearly defined. Motives are good. Then, as we turn into the driveway of the house we love, doubt and anxiety return. How can we leave this nest we’ve woven and feathered? Neither of us travelers has lived anywhere as long a time as we’ve lived here, since childhood. Our personal life-energies are meshed into the walls.
The hard part is looking around at the home and garden we’ve built, and trying to imagine life without them. Trying to imagine someone else living here is strange. I talk with my clients at my wrought-iron table by the fragrant rose garden. Would new owners make as good use of the extraordinary beauty? Surely nobody could appreciate or care for things the way we have. From the vantage point of standing within our nest, leaving seems unimaginable, like cutting off an arm.
All it takes, though, is to drive away from the magnetic field around the place. As soon as we are beyond its pull, we can breathe freely again. Oh yes. A new home. That is clearly imaginable. A life with fewer anchors. That is what we are aiming for. Freedom to develop our new careers without worrying about how to pay the bills. Barring a sudden infusion of cash, this is the way to reach our goals. Oh yeah.
I feel stretched during this time of pulling away. The original idea had been to become free, not to get stuck in nostalgia. It will be a relief when someone buys the house. We can say a fond farewell to it, then walk away. I’m ready to get on with the next step of this journey.
* * * * * *
September 2004
Over the last two long weekends, we shared our al fresco breakfast hour with an assortment of friendly birds.
Some friends of ours, who live in a hand-built solar-powered off-the-grid home on 40 acres way up in the Rocky mountains, have been away. They asked us to house-sit their property, water the plants, and eat the copious crop of organic greens that is just ready to harvest from their circular straw-bale greenhouses.
(They stack straw bales waist high, and fill the center with rich soil. The vegetables planted there receive protection from the cold mountain winds but still get plenty of sun. The thermal mass of the straw radiates heat to the plants throughout the chilly nights. White porous gardening cloth thrown over the top of each circle helps to hold the heat in. It keeps the elks and deer out, too.)
On the deck is a waist-high platform birdfeeder. The morning rooster of the birdfeeder is a large blue Stellar Jay, who squawks until we fill it. Black oil sunflower seeds and millet is on the menu. After Jay jumps around and eats for awhile, the little nuthatches and titmice zoom down in fluttery groupings and squabble over the seed. There is ample room and mounds of seed, but a few of them fight for territory anyway.
When I refill the feeder later in the day, the little black headed flutterers (I’m not entirely sure which variety of bird is which) stand right there on the feeder. They don’t mind my gigantic presence. When Gypsy the dog sticks her wet snuffly nose right into the middle of the bird party, they get upset. It’s funny to hear the birds scolding Gypsy with the loudest peeps they can muster, while she tucks her tail down and sheepishly looks away. Somebody feathery is at the feeder all day long, with various groupings shifting and interweaving and taking turns.
At sundown the birds mysteriously disappear. Deer, elks and foxes begin to emerge silently. Coyotes make their presence known when the moon rises. Their primordial yipping howls wailing through the moonlit darkness, echoing off each hill in turn, invite shivers on my arms and back of my neck. I get the urge to run naked and barefoot through the forest like a wild animal myself, eating berries and hiding in the bushes. Fortunately, the nighttime temperature and the cactus dissuade me from succumbing to the call of the wild.
When we are up in the mountains, with no TV or radio or human neighbors, we are different. We are peaceful, loving people who move gracefully about our duties. At home, we are rushed, harried people who bump into one another on our way to or from the computer or garage or television or kitchen. I like the mountain version of us better. I would swear there is something in the air, down in the towns and cities, that revs up the irritability factor in people. Crowds and traffic and loud music and demanding customers don’t help the serenity factor either. I have read about microwaves from cell phones permeating the atmosphere and vibrating our cells and brains at an uncomfortable frequency. It’s possible, I suppose.
I wonder if our house will sell and we will be able to live farther away from civilization, as we dream. We can make a regular breakfast date with the birds, and schedule a monthly full-moon howl-a-thon with the coyotes. It’s possible, I suppose.* * * * * *
