Spring: A New Beginning

After a couple of close brushes with winter weather, even on the first official day of Spring, the season is finally here. In all its glory. Cherry blossoms, apple blossoms, bees, grasshoppers, butterflies, hummingbirds, finches,bluejays, hawks, desert quail, lizards, rabbits and the every present ravens. All are out enjoying the bright warmth.

Finally, I am back out on the trail, connecting deeply with the Earth. Breathing with the fresh breeze. Enjoying the fatigue in my legs as I climb. I feel alive!

As I hike around Chimney Rock and the Thunder Rock summit, I see some of my favorite hiking places from a new vantage point. I breathe and I am feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin, watching troops of butterflies dance around me. It is really magical as I meditate on the joy of being alive.

I ponder about the fate of our brothers and sisters in Japan, experiencing yet another earthquake. Spring is a time for new beginning, but I know that it must be difficult for them to imagine beginning again. I give thanks for my blessings, my health, my family, my friends, and above all, my purpose. I pray that the energy or money that we can send to Japan, can truly make a difference.

Winter Reflections: Scents and Sounds

Winter has come and begun its mission in earnest. I develop a new relationship with my senses. It is easy to associate winter with the sensations of the skin, the feel of the cold. There is also something to stimulate the sight. The world is bled of color as everything is covered in white. The skies appear elastic and uninterrupted. But Winter in desert country, Arizona, adds stimulus for other senses.

Scents and sounds are not something I have become accustomed to in Winter. I grew up in the full-blanket snows of our nation's heartland. Winter brings hush, quieted tones. Light crunching under footsteps. And I don't remember much about smells, except maybe that I couldn't smell because my sinuses were blocked. The same could be said for my adult winters in New England.

But Arizona has surprised me. No, not that it has gotten unusually cold. It's that late December and January is the time that citrus starts to ripen in the Phoenix area. I could smell the pungent aroma of citrus blossoms everywhere. It was unusually invigorating. Up here in Sedona, people are burning pine and juniper in their fireplaces. There is this aroma that can only be described as "yummy' because it goes beyond the nose and deep into the abdomen.

And I mentioned sound. Somewhere around here, bees still buzz. Before the snow I could hear them busily humming in droves around rosemary flowers. And despite the cold pallor over the land, I hear a continual chorus of chirps and whistles. Little green and grey birds at play, as if it were Spring. And the voices of the ravens seem to carry further in this weather--they always have something to say.

I did get caught in the Winter blast on the East Coast, and it was really beautiful. I know that people living out West can get whiny about being exposed to that weather. But it really helped me to slow down, take a deep breath, enjoy good company. I think it really helped me approach the New Year with a new perspective. "Beauty is where you find it" is such an apt quote for this situation. If my life of plans and activity feels so derailed by Mother Nature, then there is room for more flexibly in my life. I am pleased to enjoy the flow of these Winter winds. I take a deep breath and walk upon the Earth with love.

Munds Trail Workout

Yes. Lot's of pictures here. Because the views along this trail were outstanding. I really didn't expect it. I had decided late in the day on Sunday to go for a hike. Normally, I think it is too hot to go out after 9am. But, I had to go. I decided to go back to Schnebly Hill Road, since it was a Sunday and I wasn't pressed for time. I was thinking to explore the road and check out a trail or two. I pulled off along the road and found what looked like a nice quiet spot.

When I set out on this trail, there were no signs save an thin vertical marker with the word "trail" and an arrow pointing in the direction of an entrance. The trail immediately descended into a grove of dead trees and large grey boulders. First thought in my mind was the Orisha Oya. It looked like a windswept graveyard. In that spirit, I said "Thank You" to Mother Oya; expressing gratitude for her energies and the destructive aspects of creation. What would I find on the rest of the trail?

Well, more gradual descent along a section of "Slip Rock," which a sign warned was dangerous. My limited experience on these trails is that the real dangers are never marked--that's the danger--and the signs usually referred to some limited, specific danger. I was right. This sign was for the equestrian users of the trail and, during times of heavy rain, everyone else. Today those Slip Rocks had little or no water. Just beautiful smooth steps and stones. The views from those rocks were magnificent and things just got better and better.

I had intended to do a short one hour hike, but I felt compelled to stay on the trail and enjoy the beauty. I ran into my friend and colleague EJ, who was hiking in the opposite direction. We both commented on how the unusually cool breeze made it a pleasant experience. Her photo is up above. She took a better photo of me. The other photos are self-portraits of me trying to include my camera in my ki gong practice.

So many beautiful spots for mediation and ki gong here. I had wanted to climb up some of those red rocks, but I did not see the side trail until my return journey. Some other time. Anyway, since I started my trail on a descent, the return was a gradual climb that was a really good work out. I was breathing pretty heavily at certain points and laughed at my naivete. By the time I got back to the car, I could feel the heat in every muscle of my body and covered in sweat. I was excited, happy, out of breath and pleasantly exhausted. So much for my Sunday afternoon stroll!

Fay Canyon Mystery Revealed

A couple of weeks ago I told you how I went to Fay Canyon with my friend John and we got horribly lost trying to find the famous arch there. I felt like the land was either testing us or teaching us how to approach it more respectfully. Either way, we were not alone; we ran into other people who were wandering around on scary paths in search of the arch. So today, I wasn't taking any chances. I wore my Elegua beads on my right arm and sang my little song of gratitude and offering.

It was very quiet as I walked down the path, wondering if I would miss the arch again. I felt a wave assurance and confidence, which urged me beyond the initial false openings. At a certain point I stopped and I saw the entrance to the side trail.


At first glance, it was bold and bright and clear. I asked myself "How did I miss this?" As I look at the photo, I now have more compassion for myself. I see it is well camouflaged. I can understand how that couple had come back two or three times only to find new false paths. Even as I approached it, though there were cairns all around, the path was slightly covered with bushes and thorns, with little signs of footprint or prior human visitors.

The arch is similar to the "Devil's Bridge" I had visited. Above the arch there is a wide flat swath of land, which I may climb up and walk across someday. Anyway, the rocks were beautiful and the short climb up to the arch took my breath away. "Whew! Somebody wants me to work for this experience!" The views from under the arch were spectacular. It seemed like a good meditation or picnic spot. Did I mention that it had rained the night before? Well, besides making the paths muddy and creating puddles, it brought the mosquitoes to life here. Since I was the only mammal on that hill, I was becoming popular. So, I said my prayers, took some photos, but did not tarry long.

Once again the rain had created a new environment. While walking down the mountain from the arch and back through the forest. I smelled the faint scent of hyacinth and myrtle. When I was at Long Canyon, this scent was powerfully strong. Ironically, since it was more subtle here, I could identify the source. There were extremely tiny white flowers on what looked like average "weeds." The bees did not waste any time finding them. Though they weren't following me like the ones in Long Canyon, they seemed to be all around me. Since they were distracted by those little flowers, none approached me or flew near me. Nonetheless, the loud sound of many buzzing bees was a little disconcerting. Now that I think about it, the other times I have been to this canyon, I kept hearing lots of bee sounds. On the other occasions, I could not see them. Maybe I wasn't ready.

I resumed my thoughts and song of gratitude, praying for an open heart. I made my way safely through the "valley of bees." At that moment, the clouds were moving away and the sun came out.

Singing at Jim Thompson Trail

Yesterday, I took my morning hike at Jim Thompson trail. It is about a five minute drive from the center of Sedona, but it truly feels like another world. I started out with gratitude and wonder; still thinking about my hike at Long Canyon. The strong sent of juniper here reminded me of the incredible scent at Long Canyon--it was an overwhelming combination of hyacinth and myrtle. It was everywhere and I could not find the source. It was so omnipresent I began to think it was the soil.

Walking in the current reality at Jim Thompson helped me realize that it had to be a combination of plants unique to that canyon. So I walked and reflected, walked and smiled, walked and listened to the birdsong, walked and felt the strength of my own legs, walked and breathed in deep, powerful circles. I was in such a mood to walk that I barely rested a minute when I got to a big flat rock, perfect for sitting. I walked until the earth energy seeped through my feet, up my legs into my belly and gave me song.

There was really no one there and the valley had amazing acoustics. It was fun to hear myself sing. I know you are wondering what I was singing, so I will tell you. An old gospel/spiritual song that used to make me laugh as a child. I considered it so "old-timey" that it was a great source of gigglement for me and my brother. It is called "O' Mary Don't You Weep" For some reason, as an adult, I feel that song! I can feel the power and encouragement of every word.

At first it was just ringing over and over again in my head. Then I did Ki Gong on another big rock and the Earth energy was humming through me. I immediately started singing the line "if I could, I surely would, stand on the rock where Moses stood." After that, I couldn't stop singing the whole song again and again. I was reminded how the old folks used to get so moved by their songs, when they had no musical accompaniment. I suppose I am one of them, now. Thank you!

Not something I planned to do, but I would do it again. And I would recommend it to others. "Singing Ki Gong." By the time I left that trail, I felt like I was roller skating back to my car. I am sure the melody and minor keys are powerful healing for the brain and the body, but I think those words really lifted my spirit. So simple. "O' Mary don't you weep, tell Martha not to moan...Pharoah's army drowned in the Red See. O' Mary don't you weep, tell Martha not to moan." The biggest threat you face in life can miraculously disappear. So don't worry. You are protected.

That's how I interpret it, anyway. Maybe all those trees and mountains were reminding me that the true source of peace is my awareness and assurance that this Universe is on my side. For this message, I am grateful. For my singing Ki gong, I am grateful. For another day of life, I am grateful.