Golden Mountain: Hidden in Plain Sight

I cannot tell you how many times I have passed this gray hill. From a distance it looks like a temple or natural pyramid. It is located very near the entrance to Interstate 17, which I travel on several times a week. So this should have jumped out at me long ago. But I didn't see it until now.

Thanks to my new friend Jerry at Friends of the Forest, I saw it. I learned that this sacred hill was once a great pueblo where many hundreds of people lived many hundreds of years ago. Located near the Wet Beaver Creek, it was home to a settlement of Sinaguan people. It is reputed to take on a special golden tone in the light of the rising sun on special days of the year. Once I saw it, I could recognize the sacred nature of this place. The fact that it had been hidden in plain sight, increased its allure. Once I saw it, I knew that I would visit sometime soon.

The road and the trails that lead to this site are very rocky or covered. In fact most of the base of the mountain is surrounded by barbed-wire fencing. I got lost several times trying to find the entrance. However, since I was visiting during the shadow period of the Full moon, I felt that I couldn't leave without visiting the top, leaving an offering. I found prints of horses' hooves and followed them until I saw what looked like an entrance. There was a special "gateway" stone, but it too was covered by the barbed-wire fence. I decided to make an offering of red silk. If I didn't find a way in, at least I would show my respect to the spirits of the people who lived there so long ago.

Maybe it's a trick of the mind, but I felt some slight shift in my perception after I made that offering. I turned to my right and found traces of a path that had been grown over with cactus and holly bushes. I had to keep moving along the path. Even if I risked climbing the fence, a dry creek bed stood between the fence and the base of the hill. Dangerous indeed. My perseverance was rewarded after 20 minutes of walking when I found a narrow opening in the fencing. As far as I could see, it was the only way in. It led to a path that skirted the northern base of the hill and ascended upward. It was clear that very few people came this way.

As the top of the hill started coming into view I heard a strangely familiar scream. It was repeated over and over again. I looked up and saw some agitated ravens.I have seen many ravens in my life, especially around Sedona, but I have never seen a ravens' nest. They tend to avoid people. So they clearly didn't like me being so close to their nest. They kept yelling at me even as I walked past the place where they could see me. In my mind I hoped they could perceive that I had not intentions of going anywhere near their nest. And then, I thought, with their symbolic connection to the underworld, they just might be guardians for this place.

I eventually made it to the top and saw pottery shards here and there, as well as outlines of dwellings. The view was spectacular and I imagined it must have been a wonderful place to live. I walked around the top until I found the remains of a flat grinding stone. Maybe it was a cooking space or a working space for handicrafts. I don't know, I only know that this spot felt special. So, I stood at that point and meditated, connecting my feet to the Earth and opening my 7th Chakra to the Sky. I relaxed and said a blessing for the spirits of the people who once lived there. Then I laid a handful of Cedar needles on the grinding stone. The minute the last needle hit the stone, those ravens flew up, but this time making sweet sounds like the of their jay cousins.

What a pleasant surprise! I laughed and smiled. I admired the golden flowers growing up there. I opened my arms and felt the wind sweeping over my body. I paid my respects and began my descent. When I finally reached the bottom, I covered myself with lavender oil and gratitude. When I followed the rest of the path, I realized it had been very near my car, but somehow I missed it. I hope that this experience would help me remember, to see the gifts and opportunities hidden in plain sight.

The Goldfinch Has Landed....

It seems that Spring is quickly giving way to Summer here: bright baking sunlight, open windows, short sleeves, driving with the car windows rolled down...
Since it is high desert, it means that the nights are still quite cool. I feel kind of schizophrenic putting on my space heater and humidifier before bed, but Sedona has taught me again and again that nature is vast enough to contain contradictions.

The other day I was marveling at the morning sun when I heard a familiar birdsong behind me. A beautiful little Goldfinch had landed on a tree near me. Oooh, aaah! I was so busy cooing that I almost didn't notice him flying away. Such magical movement! I had to laugh at myself. I grew up in Iowa, where these are the official state bird. I think common enough for me that I didn't take much notice of them. But when I lived in New York and New Jersey, their contrast to their environment really stopped me in my tracks. Here in Sedona, they seem like little angels.

I was wondering about their migration pattern and why I hadn't seen them in a while. Then I did a little research on line and learned that they changed their plumage with the seasons. So, this little birdie was wearing his Summer frock. I guess no one told him the fashion rule about waiting for Easter.

Like him, I am already to call it "Summer." See you outside!

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.

Considering the Earth

 
 
 
 

It is still winter, but winter looks very different in the desert. On this day I decided to take a walk in the more open desert rather than be shielded by the great red rocks. The beauty is inspiring. As I walk around I think about all of the things befalling the Earth, all of the damage we have done as a species, as well as the natural radiation and changes imposed from the sun and other celestial bodies.

The Earth is constantly changing, shifting. But it remains beautiful and nurturing, a home for many creatures. Even if our actions bring on another ice age, even if we cease to a part of this web of life, this life will continue. As I look at this desert landscape I consider the Earth with a sense of hope. That which we now value, the trees and lakes and hillsides that command top dollar, could be gone in an instant. But this beauty will remain.

I not only see this beauty, I feel this beauty. I meditate on this beauty and my Dahn Jon is alive. The vibrations of these beautiful thin trees, tall grass and dry ground resonate within me. And I am blessed.

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.

Reflecting on Thanksgiving

Back in the land of red rocks after time away in L.A. Thanksgiving is always a special time for me, I can definitely appreciate a day devoted to gratitude. Even if its origins are less than noble. I gave thanks for being able to see another such day, I gave thanks for my family, my friends, near and far. I am grateful for the beauty of nature in this place. The hills, the canyons, the trees, the beach, the birds, the flowers, the dogs. The blissfully clear sky.

Fun and reflection in the California sun. I gave thanks for a year full of blessings. This Thanksgiving period was novel in that I got to prep my belly for the day of feasting by visiting the fabled food trucks of L.A. Beyond the beauty of dumplings, we discovered a truck with sartorial savories. William B's truck is a very cute idea. Too bad they don't have clothes for men yet.

But shopping is not the reason for this journey. It was a good time to be with family, to reflect on our shared experiences. Especially, the down-home flavors and inherited challenges that have made us the strong people we are today. Surprisingly, I learned the value of dancing around this holiday. We danced for gratitude and we danced to work off our food. From now on, I will do my best to keep this new tradition in years to come. Maybe it should be a part of every holiday for me.

This life is a gift and I hope you all enjoyed time with family, friends or even your favorite football team. I hope you spent some time outside, despite the weather conditions. May we all grow together in love and gratitude. Ashe!