I logged into my e-mail account to get the contact information and call the intern supervisor. I received a new e-mail from SCA regarding the Yellowstone internship. "Unfortunately the position you applied for in Yellowstone National Park has been canceled, please apply to our other internships we have available." No! Is this how it was going to be? I was not going to get anything that I wanted. I was frustrated; I politely called the SCA office to see what was going on. "How come I was not getting any internship opportunities?" I asked. The woman I spoke with said that many budgets for national and state parks were being cut, and that meant internships would be one of the first to go. She also said that the time I have available to participate in internships is so narrow, and most employers would rather chose an intern with whom they would not have to negotiate start and end dates. She said that I should definitely call Lisa Hayward, the woman in charge of the owl internship, and give it a chance.
I was not excited about this internship possibility. I would be going to Shasta National Forest, not nearly as impressive to me, to hang out with owls and watch them poop. I decided to give Lisa a call anyway to hear more about the job. I did not get a hold of Lisa right away, but she quickly responded to the message I left regarding my "interest" in the project. She said that my application was on the top of about 40 applications, and that my references were excellent and really stood out. Her flattery was warming me up to the internship. She described the internship: I would be working very intimately with the threatened Northern Spotted Owl to help collect data to assess the affect of off-highway vehicles on the hormone levels of owls in the wild. I would spend more time with this owl than most biologists who study the owl do, and get to know them very personally. She explained how rare an opportunity this was, very few people will ever see a Northern Spotted Owl in the wild, and they may not be around for much longer.
The information she was telling me floored me. I was really disappointed in myself. I was so caught up in doing something impressive, that I almost didn't give a chance to do something important, which is what attracted me to this field in the first place. She offered me the position on a Friday. I talked it over with my family, my excitement growing, and accepted the position on Monday, two and a half weeks before the position was scheduled to begin.
Little did I know that would be the beginning of my owl obsession. Those who encounter me quickly learn that I have a little fixation with owls (spotted ones, in particular). I work them into conversations quite fluidly and frequently, and people probably think I am a crazy cat lady, but with owls. Yes, many people know of that part of me, but very few people understand it. Partly because I’m not very good at explaining it, and partly because, well, it’s a long story that soon people become bored with and don’t understand. I did journal entries of that summer and when I had typed those entries up, it turned out to be a 59-page account; see what I mean?
Here’s the short of it. The spotted owl means two things to me. Here’s the first. When I first encountered the spotted owl, it stared deeply into my eyes, like no other being ever has, as if it were analyzing the most secretive and hidden chambers of my heart and soul. I felt completely naked from the inside out, and I knew this creature was so much bigger, greater, and wiser than I was. He seemed to sum me up, and gather whether or not it was I who was worthy enough to be in his presence. He humbled me and I felt so little next to him.
That summer I learned about the intimacy and love that owls share for their family, they are not mechanical; they have fears, joys, sorrows, and many other emotions. And I learned how insignificant people are and how if you just let yourself be vulnerable to the wild, you will realize that you are no more than one of millions of species on this planet; no more or less important than the others. John Muir once questioned the loyalty he had to his own species; he wondered why he regarded humans with less favor, feeling a sense of betrayal and guilt to his own kind. I too feel a higher sense of regard for those not of my genus and understand that conflict. Gifford Pinchot’s motto was “The greatest good, for the greatest number,” valuing the sustainment of humans over all other creatures, though he did so with conservation in mind because he understood the need for it to exist in order for us to exist. John Muir believed in allowing the natural world to exist for its own sake, and not for people’s sake; for it has every right to exist as much as we do. That day that I met that owl, in only a second, a moment, an instant, as he was sizing me up and evaluating my character, I converted from the ideals of Pinchot, to the religion of Muir.
The second of what spotted owls mean to me, is they are a symbol of that summer. Everything changed that summer for me. The owl is a symbol of what I learned and how I grew. I came to the forest ignorant and not knowing what to expect. I had visualized the hiking and the waiting for owl scat, but what I experienced was deeper. I had a kind of camaraderie with the other researchers that only comes from instances in life where everything depends on each person to be fully present and active in their role. I was pushed to give my all, and there were moments when I was so proud of myself because I had gone beyond what I had ever thought I could do. I was also proud of my mission. When I was in the Navy I learned about hard work, but I never owned my mission or felt as though the mission was dependent on me. I felt needed to complete this mission in the forest, as if it would not be successful without me.
I learned about other people and relationships. I learned that one’s walls could be taken down completely and that one could trust and rely on another person as intimately as a lover, a child, or a parent. I learned about the successes of others, and how obtainable success is if you believe in yourself. I learned that the only limitations in life are the ones you put upon yourself. I learned that when you feel like giving up, press on a little longer and often what you receive for your persistence is more rewarding than if you stopped trying. I learned that you’re always going to have insecurities and fears, but to take chances no matter how scared you are. I learned that quiet moments with yourself and a good book or an issue of National Geographic are priceless. I learned about living with excess, that happiness lies not in what you own, but in the relationships you have with other people and the natural world, as well as the choices you make in this life. I learned the value of positive thinking and courage. I learned how kind the hearts of friends could possibly be. I learned to be more curious and to never stop learning even if your head feels full.
I learned about the wilderness. That the most frightening things in the forest are not the animals you might encounter, but the people. I learned that bugs are not gross, nor is owl poop. I learned what it was like to have an intimate relationship with a wild animal, and to care about its survival so much, even though it could probably care less about you. I learned the sounds and smells of the forest, and when I’m away I miss them very much. I miss the cicada’s electrical chime, the distant hooting of a spotted owl, and yes, even the squawking Steller’s jay. I learned about the different kinds of owls, their different sounds and habits, as well as other birds of the forest.
I learned about the struggles of living in a small community in the middle of nowhere; the difficulties and challenges of surviving and bringing up a family. I learned to be humble, simple, and not so judgmental. I learned the views of the loggers, the hopelessness of drugs, and the folksy fun of a town all gathered in one place for a night of music, drinks, and release. I learned about the strengths of a small community, as well as the downsides to a place “where everybody knows your name.”
I truly met the best people in the world that summer. I am blessed. I know I have been given this experience for a reason, to improve myself as a person and to improve this world with my new knowledge. The initial impression I had on the project is no longer a thought in my mind. I am disappointed that I felt as if it was insignificant, but I am pleased that I have grown. I had the thought that this was just a silly bird and I wanted to do greater things, but now I know that this thing is much greater than I am. The noble and divine spotted owl forever humbles me.
Now I hope you understand my crazy little obsession.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Intermission: The Heart
The heart is a curious, unpredictable, and maddening thing. It guards itself ferociously from those who wish it potential harm, speculating everyone’s intent, asking for secret passwords, interrogating them, suspecting the worse, guilty till proven innocent; and then, without warning, it becomes completely vulnerable. It lays down its arms and the soldiers disperse leaving only a small, naive child with all the love and trust in the world. What is this all or nothing of the heart?
What’s even more irritating is the other hearts it chooses to trust. My heart, for example, has a selection technique that most people might regard to be anti-intuitive and questionable. It’s attracted to the seedy, vulnerable, passionate vagabond with an uncertain past, which has left my heart with dozens of hairline fractures occurring throughout my twenties. And each time it hurts that unbearable, excruciating, “I-want-to-die” pain I know you have all experienced (and if you haven’t, what are you waiting for?), your armies rebuild stronger, more vigilant and tireless, and determined to not have another break through their Red Rover wall again. Some people call it baggage, some people call it caution; it’s those things, yes, all wrapped up with a bow of bitterness. However, who would I be, had I not had that soul-crushing love and heartache? I certainly wouldn’t be able to speak intimately of it. I would be a heart of less substance, maybe, unable to relate or feel pain when my friends endure aches of the heart too.
And yet through all the disappointment, let-downs, and seedy, vulnerable, passionate vagabond hearts with uncertain pasts, we still yearn to love again. The heart believes it will never let someone like that in again; it’s like a virus, always mutating and adapting with each outside blow. But the child is still at the core, and as time goes by it longs to escape again from the confines of the compound. And though we will not admit it, we know we’d give up everything and anything for that child to feel love again.
A Long, Long (Long) Story (Part I)
I’ve always envied the people who knew what they wanted to do with their lives ever since they were old enough to know that they needed to do something with their lives. Me, I’ve never had much direction. I’ve kinda floated around aimlessly hoping something would shake me and one day I’d go “That’s it!” When I was in high school, I thought I wanted to be a teacher. How wonderful to be so influential to children, I thought (some may argue that I shouldn’t be influential to children). Then I became a camp counselor for the YMCA and found that being responsible for more than five children at a time brought me to near insanity. I told my high school English teacher that life was dull to me; nothing inspired me. People said that high school was the best years of your life. I thought, ‘Great, it’s all downhill from here.’ She said that once I start really experiencing life I would become inspired. So, I joined the Navy.
I really don’t know what I was thinking, but for some reason I knew intuitively that it was what I needed to do. Maybe it was those commercials depicting a sea of camoed sailors jumping off a ship into the ocean looking like they were on a very serious mission, not really knowing why they would jump off the ship, but knowing that for whatever reason, they looked like badasses doing it. I wasted one semester at the junior college before enlisting, which really reinforced that this was the right decision as I rarely went to classes and when I did, I’d often sleep through them. I knew I needed discipline, to grow up, to have life experience, to have good work ethic, to know what it was like to struggle, to get in trouble, to suffer the consequences; all that and a little motivation from Demi Moore in G.I. Jane made me do it. Well, I got what I asked for: an ass-kicking, degrading, thank-less, sexist, feel-sorry-for-yourself, low-totem, repetitive, alcohol-induced, hell-of-a-time. And when I say hell of a time, I mean it, because all those shitty days were made up for with some of the best times of my life.
The Navy gave me the discipline I needed, but I still hadn’t found the ultimate purpose for my existence (gosh, can anyone be sure of that?). When I got out of the Navy, I went back to the junior college. I thought, well maybe I’ll never know; maybe I should just pick something. And if I can’t find something I’m passionate about, then I’ll choose something that I can at least make a damn good decent living. My mom had always pushed the medical field; she’d always talk about nursing- what a great job it was, how we really need nurses and we’ll always need nurses, it pays so well, yadda, yadda, yadda. After a while I gave into the thought, why not, and what the hell, if I’m going to do it, I might as well go all the way, right? That’s when I knew… I was going to be a cosmetic dermatologist! I thought, this shouldn’t be too hard, it’s all about Botox, acne, and facial peels, right? I began to imagine the indulgent estate that I would build myself when I was a doctor; complete with north, south, east, and west wings. I’d have secret doors and passageways that could only be revealed by the removal of the most mysterious and tattered of books from my library. I’d have one of those circular gravel driveways with an extravagant fountain in the middle and my Bentley in front. Oh, I’d also have color-themed rooms- a yellow room, a red room, a white room; and I’d have a butler with a British accent like the one Batman has.
I did pre-Med for three semesters. It wasn’t the ridiculously difficult biology, chemistry, and calculus classes that made me second-guess my decision, I knew this was going to be hard, but after a while I began to question my motivations. I was in this for all the wrong reasons. I didn’t want to be a doctor! Needles freaked me out, blood made me queasy, but most of all, I wasn’t passionate about it and it just wasn’t me. But, what the hell is me! I was so tired of this. Why could I not be satisfied by doing something solely for the money like so many other people?
I asked my little cousin Molly what she thought I should be. She said, “I don’t know, what do you like to do?” I said, “I don’t know, I like to hike, I could be a professional hiker.” She laughed and said no. I said, “I like camping, I could be a professional camper!” She laughed and said no. I said, “I like fishing, I could be a professional fisher!” She laughed and said no. I started the next semester fresh, I decided I was going to try a variety of classes that interested me: psychology, environmental studies, human sexuality (maybe I could be a sex therapist, that would be interesting), and an art class. But when I tried to get the military to pay for these classes, they wouldn’t, saying that I had to have a declared major, and that 12 units had to meet the requirements for a specified degree program. Great, what do I do now? The counselor scoffed at my attempted class list; I had to admit, it was a little weak, but I was completely clueless. She asked me what I want to be; I have no idea! She told me I had to choose something, so under pressure and without much logical thought, I choose environmental studies.
What soon came to follow was a life change I was not expecting. My first semester in this new field was a class on global environmental issues, taught by a passionate, inspiring, hopeful professor named Susan Mahoney. She taught me about the crisis in which our planet is in and enforced upon me a newfound sense of duty I had never experienced before, but had always desired. I was astounded by the dramatic and irrevocable impacts that humans have had on our planet and by the short period over which this damage has occurred. For goodness sake, if everyone lived as I did, we would need 21 planets to sustain ourselves! How many planets do you need? I was also astounded by my lack of knowledge of environmental issues and knew I was certainly not alone. I thought about all the people who were just like me, who did not know any better. I needed to let people know.
Following this class, I proceeded to spread the word about what I had learned. A reaction came from those I shared this information with, but not one I was expecting. I anticipated people to have epiphanies like me, but instead, people were indifferent. This deeply saddened me and I was confused; I did not understand this non-reaction. It became my mission to change people’s habits and inspire them to care (definitely easier said than done).
So finally I had found my passion, not what the heck was I going to do with it? Conservation efforts rarely take the form of well-paying, steady jobs. I had heard from an instructor about an organization called the Student Conservation Association, which had a great reputation for placing students in internships throughout the country with a conservation emphasis. I applied for several internships that December for the following summer, hoping for an offer by just one. I felt confident in my application; I had what I thought were good references and I am able to amply display my strengths in writing. I interview pretty well and confidently, and although I did not have a lot of experience in the field, I was eagerly able to describe my desire to gain experience through this organization.
I choose exotic locations, Alaska, Hawaii, Yellowstone, and Yosemite. When April came around, and other, more qualified and experienced people, were sweeping up the desirable positions I had applied for I frantically added more and more internships to my application. My expectations decreased, I became less cocky and a little more desperate.
When May arrived, I began to plan a summer in Rohnert Park. I looked at the bright side of things, my best friend's wedding, possible backpacking trips, and earning money with Starbucks. I had convinced myself so well that this would be an equally awesome summer, that when positions for Yellowstone and a little owl project in Hayfork, CA opened up last minute to me, I seriously questioned whether I should go or not. I wrote a blog on my MySpace entitled, "Should I Stay or Should I Go Now?" and opened it up for commenting. I wrote the blog partially for bragging rights; "Yellowstone wants me," I wrote nonchalantly. Mostly though, I was really torn on whether I should go and I wanted people who knew me to give me their opinion. Almost every person said that I would be a fool not to take up an internship opportunity, one commenter cleared up my head by saying "Do it for God's sake. Like Starbucks is your career choice..." I made my decision; I would take the Yellowstone job…
I really don’t know what I was thinking, but for some reason I knew intuitively that it was what I needed to do. Maybe it was those commercials depicting a sea of camoed sailors jumping off a ship into the ocean looking like they were on a very serious mission, not really knowing why they would jump off the ship, but knowing that for whatever reason, they looked like badasses doing it. I wasted one semester at the junior college before enlisting, which really reinforced that this was the right decision as I rarely went to classes and when I did, I’d often sleep through them. I knew I needed discipline, to grow up, to have life experience, to have good work ethic, to know what it was like to struggle, to get in trouble, to suffer the consequences; all that and a little motivation from Demi Moore in G.I. Jane made me do it. Well, I got what I asked for: an ass-kicking, degrading, thank-less, sexist, feel-sorry-for-yourself, low-totem, repetitive, alcohol-induced, hell-of-a-time. And when I say hell of a time, I mean it, because all those shitty days were made up for with some of the best times of my life.
The Navy gave me the discipline I needed, but I still hadn’t found the ultimate purpose for my existence (gosh, can anyone be sure of that?). When I got out of the Navy, I went back to the junior college. I thought, well maybe I’ll never know; maybe I should just pick something. And if I can’t find something I’m passionate about, then I’ll choose something that I can at least make a damn good decent living. My mom had always pushed the medical field; she’d always talk about nursing- what a great job it was, how we really need nurses and we’ll always need nurses, it pays so well, yadda, yadda, yadda. After a while I gave into the thought, why not, and what the hell, if I’m going to do it, I might as well go all the way, right? That’s when I knew… I was going to be a cosmetic dermatologist! I thought, this shouldn’t be too hard, it’s all about Botox, acne, and facial peels, right? I began to imagine the indulgent estate that I would build myself when I was a doctor; complete with north, south, east, and west wings. I’d have secret doors and passageways that could only be revealed by the removal of the most mysterious and tattered of books from my library. I’d have one of those circular gravel driveways with an extravagant fountain in the middle and my Bentley in front. Oh, I’d also have color-themed rooms- a yellow room, a red room, a white room; and I’d have a butler with a British accent like the one Batman has.
I did pre-Med for three semesters. It wasn’t the ridiculously difficult biology, chemistry, and calculus classes that made me second-guess my decision, I knew this was going to be hard, but after a while I began to question my motivations. I was in this for all the wrong reasons. I didn’t want to be a doctor! Needles freaked me out, blood made me queasy, but most of all, I wasn’t passionate about it and it just wasn’t me. But, what the hell is me! I was so tired of this. Why could I not be satisfied by doing something solely for the money like so many other people?
I asked my little cousin Molly what she thought I should be. She said, “I don’t know, what do you like to do?” I said, “I don’t know, I like to hike, I could be a professional hiker.” She laughed and said no. I said, “I like camping, I could be a professional camper!” She laughed and said no. I said, “I like fishing, I could be a professional fisher!” She laughed and said no. I started the next semester fresh, I decided I was going to try a variety of classes that interested me: psychology, environmental studies, human sexuality (maybe I could be a sex therapist, that would be interesting), and an art class. But when I tried to get the military to pay for these classes, they wouldn’t, saying that I had to have a declared major, and that 12 units had to meet the requirements for a specified degree program. Great, what do I do now? The counselor scoffed at my attempted class list; I had to admit, it was a little weak, but I was completely clueless. She asked me what I want to be; I have no idea! She told me I had to choose something, so under pressure and without much logical thought, I choose environmental studies.
What soon came to follow was a life change I was not expecting. My first semester in this new field was a class on global environmental issues, taught by a passionate, inspiring, hopeful professor named Susan Mahoney. She taught me about the crisis in which our planet is in and enforced upon me a newfound sense of duty I had never experienced before, but had always desired. I was astounded by the dramatic and irrevocable impacts that humans have had on our planet and by the short period over which this damage has occurred. For goodness sake, if everyone lived as I did, we would need 21 planets to sustain ourselves! How many planets do you need? I was also astounded by my lack of knowledge of environmental issues and knew I was certainly not alone. I thought about all the people who were just like me, who did not know any better. I needed to let people know.
Following this class, I proceeded to spread the word about what I had learned. A reaction came from those I shared this information with, but not one I was expecting. I anticipated people to have epiphanies like me, but instead, people were indifferent. This deeply saddened me and I was confused; I did not understand this non-reaction. It became my mission to change people’s habits and inspire them to care (definitely easier said than done).
So finally I had found my passion, not what the heck was I going to do with it? Conservation efforts rarely take the form of well-paying, steady jobs. I had heard from an instructor about an organization called the Student Conservation Association, which had a great reputation for placing students in internships throughout the country with a conservation emphasis. I applied for several internships that December for the following summer, hoping for an offer by just one. I felt confident in my application; I had what I thought were good references and I am able to amply display my strengths in writing. I interview pretty well and confidently, and although I did not have a lot of experience in the field, I was eagerly able to describe my desire to gain experience through this organization.
I choose exotic locations, Alaska, Hawaii, Yellowstone, and Yosemite. When April came around, and other, more qualified and experienced people, were sweeping up the desirable positions I had applied for I frantically added more and more internships to my application. My expectations decreased, I became less cocky and a little more desperate.
When May arrived, I began to plan a summer in Rohnert Park. I looked at the bright side of things, my best friend's wedding, possible backpacking trips, and earning money with Starbucks. I had convinced myself so well that this would be an equally awesome summer, that when positions for Yellowstone and a little owl project in Hayfork, CA opened up last minute to me, I seriously questioned whether I should go or not. I wrote a blog on my MySpace entitled, "Should I Stay or Should I Go Now?" and opened it up for commenting. I wrote the blog partially for bragging rights; "Yellowstone wants me," I wrote nonchalantly. Mostly though, I was really torn on whether I should go and I wanted people who knew me to give me their opinion. Almost every person said that I would be a fool not to take up an internship opportunity, one commenter cleared up my head by saying "Do it for God's sake. Like Starbucks is your career choice..." I made my decision; I would take the Yellowstone job…
Friday, April 30, 2010
Dip Lips and Why I Never Liked the Gym
The back pockets at Ruidoso have a permanent circular imprint where their dip has worn away the fabric from years of belonging there. Men and women alike collect black, tar spit into Gatorade bottles like it’s liquid gold. When they are done with their chaw, they keep that too, and little flecks of tobacco are left over in teeth crevices as if they’re saving some for later. Elk hunters claim identities as conservationists as they plan their fundraising banquet, complete with shotguns and rifles as grand prizes in auctions and raffles. What an odd banquet this will be that I’m volunteering for this Saturday. I imagine a solid ocean of cowboy hats, dip lips, and beer bellies. Miss New Mexico will be there. I understand where they are coming from I guess; in order for them to continue their sport, the elk populations must flourish, and so they put their funds into habitat conservation. One could venture to say that if it weren’t for the hunters efforts, Ruidoso might be more developed, as well as the surrounding forested area. But it is a national forest, and there are such listed species as the spotted owl and Kuenzler cactus, whose habitat is well protected regardless. Elliot says that most hunters are conservationists.
Why I’ve never liked the gym, and the mountains are so much better- Larry took us to an MSO site yesterday which required a bit of hiking up to an exceptionally windy ridge. Larry estimated wind speeds at 50+ mph, which would make hooting a waste of energy as the caller and responder’s calls would be lost in the wind and probably not found until Arizona. The hike up to the top was steep and bumpy from the many secret passageways of underground mammals. Larry said when he was a young biologist a long, long time ago, him and his fellow biologist friend would always be in competition to get to sites and up mountains the fastest, and he was in really great shape back then. As he was talking, I quickened my pace so I was in front, and then challenged him to a race (admittedly unfair on my part, being 30 or so years younger and having a head start). I ran up the mountain, jamming my toes into the soft soil, feeling the burn in my calves and my lungs, but driven by a light-hearted competition. I didn’t care if I won or lost, the other interns joined in too. Elliot, running three times my speed, but I still persevered- we all did. Stephanie, are newest intern, is about the same pace as me, but I like that we both, though slow, don’t give up and see things to the end. When we reached the top of one ridge, I challenge everyone further to the very top. Unable to resist a match, everyone powered his or her way to the top. The gym is monotonous movements going nowhere and seeing nothing but other sweaty, resentful, joyless people hating the chore of exercise. You read a magazine, watch television, or crank up your iPod to drown out your panting and the voices in your head telling you how much this sucks. You live for the scale and you bombard yourself with guilt if you have a bad week. You become obsessed with your body, and scold it if it doesn’t meet some goal you’ve set for yourself, as if your body is cognitive and should know better.
When I hike through the mountains or run through a grassland, the wind hugs every part of me, the sun warms me, the air makes me feel alive; I am happy and filled with joy like a child. When I scour the ponderosa pine and douglas fir with my eyes, playing hide-and-seek with the owls, and waiting with baited breath for them to tease me with a response of Polo to my Marco, excitement fills me with anticipation and curiosity. Their camouflage is dynamite and my eyes are weak. In the woods, one is constantly reminded of how unadapted they have become to the wilderness. It’s a constant challenge and aspiration to be better; to see like the owl, to move like the deer, to hunt like the cat. The woods remind you that being human is a disservice here; this is not our territory anymore.
Why I’ve never liked the gym, and the mountains are so much better- Larry took us to an MSO site yesterday which required a bit of hiking up to an exceptionally windy ridge. Larry estimated wind speeds at 50+ mph, which would make hooting a waste of energy as the caller and responder’s calls would be lost in the wind and probably not found until Arizona. The hike up to the top was steep and bumpy from the many secret passageways of underground mammals. Larry said when he was a young biologist a long, long time ago, him and his fellow biologist friend would always be in competition to get to sites and up mountains the fastest, and he was in really great shape back then. As he was talking, I quickened my pace so I was in front, and then challenged him to a race (admittedly unfair on my part, being 30 or so years younger and having a head start). I ran up the mountain, jamming my toes into the soft soil, feeling the burn in my calves and my lungs, but driven by a light-hearted competition. I didn’t care if I won or lost, the other interns joined in too. Elliot, running three times my speed, but I still persevered- we all did. Stephanie, are newest intern, is about the same pace as me, but I like that we both, though slow, don’t give up and see things to the end. When we reached the top of one ridge, I challenge everyone further to the very top. Unable to resist a match, everyone powered his or her way to the top. The gym is monotonous movements going nowhere and seeing nothing but other sweaty, resentful, joyless people hating the chore of exercise. You read a magazine, watch television, or crank up your iPod to drown out your panting and the voices in your head telling you how much this sucks. You live for the scale and you bombard yourself with guilt if you have a bad week. You become obsessed with your body, and scold it if it doesn’t meet some goal you’ve set for yourself, as if your body is cognitive and should know better.
When I hike through the mountains or run through a grassland, the wind hugs every part of me, the sun warms me, the air makes me feel alive; I am happy and filled with joy like a child. When I scour the ponderosa pine and douglas fir with my eyes, playing hide-and-seek with the owls, and waiting with baited breath for them to tease me with a response of Polo to my Marco, excitement fills me with anticipation and curiosity. Their camouflage is dynamite and my eyes are weak. In the woods, one is constantly reminded of how unadapted they have become to the wilderness. It’s a constant challenge and aspiration to be better; to see like the owl, to move like the deer, to hunt like the cat. The woods remind you that being human is a disservice here; this is not our territory anymore.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
I've Arrived
Don't think about what to write, just write it.
Mountain biking is fun, but hard. I'm glad that I've tried it. It makes me want to push myself harder.
My feelings about Ruidoso, NM, let me think... When I hear Ruidoso I feel... calm, comfortable, in place. The woods here are thin and the trees are small compared to Shasta. I hear a woodpecker. Fire suppression has created huge fuel loads on the forest floors. Instead of clearcutting, they thin the trees so much you can see to the tops of hills, offering little habitat except for the squirrels. I'm amazed that the spotted owls are here as there is no great canopy cover, although I'm told the MSO's (Mexican spotted owls) can be found even in the pinon-juniper habitats (equivalent to California's chapparel).
The fire fighters remind me of Hayfork's fire crew, which is a good thing and a bad thing. Good because they are fun, easy-going, good ol' boys. Bad because they act as if they haven't been around a female in a coon's age.
Eric, a 22-year old engine worker w/ dreams of being a Hot Shot, has a story for everything. Whenever you make a comment about something, he says, "Well, there's actually a story behind that." He has a North Dakota sounding accent, but is from Las Vegas, NM. He attributes it to brain surgery when he was a child. His feet are really wide, which he says is from hopping fences when he was young without shoes on. The impact spread his feet out. His mother used to be really wealthy, but she gave up all her wordly belongings at the recommendations of some guru, and was thus raised very poor. He has been engaged twice to the same woman. Once after two weeks of dating, then she cheated on him. The second time after two months of dating, then she cheated on him again w/ a minister. He would have taker her back again. He's a love-sick fool as sweet as they come. I asked him how he ever gets to know anyone when he's always talking. He says when he stops talking, he gets nervous.
Elliot, is my SCA counterpart. A 23-year old from Virginia. He's quiet, but smart, tireless, and has a subtle, witty sense of humor which is often surprising me. His girlfriend is studying abroad in Italy. They have been together five years. He really wanted this job, calling Larry, our supervisor, every week until he got it. He's very comfortable to be around, even if we don't talk; it seems we already know each other quite well.
Larry is the wildlife biologist for Lincoln. He met me as soon as I arrived on Sunday. He looks at everyone w/ the kindest eyes; he's got to be one of the most genuine, patient people I have me. He's very respectful. I can't imagine him angry at all. He's been at his job for 17 years and loves it. He says it is his hope to help us find something that we love as much too. I hope so also, that's why I'm here.
I've been practicing my MSO 4-note. It's a bit rusty, but let's be honest- it never really was that good. I can't wait to be reunited w/ my owl friends. I can't stop thinking about that first time my eyes met a spotted owl's eyes. That feeling of vulnerability and new love, I can't wait to feel that again.
I don't have internet in my trailor, so unfortunately I will be writing less then I'd hoped.
Mountain biking is fun, but hard. I'm glad that I've tried it. It makes me want to push myself harder.
My feelings about Ruidoso, NM, let me think... When I hear Ruidoso I feel... calm, comfortable, in place. The woods here are thin and the trees are small compared to Shasta. I hear a woodpecker. Fire suppression has created huge fuel loads on the forest floors. Instead of clearcutting, they thin the trees so much you can see to the tops of hills, offering little habitat except for the squirrels. I'm amazed that the spotted owls are here as there is no great canopy cover, although I'm told the MSO's (Mexican spotted owls) can be found even in the pinon-juniper habitats (equivalent to California's chapparel).
The fire fighters remind me of Hayfork's fire crew, which is a good thing and a bad thing. Good because they are fun, easy-going, good ol' boys. Bad because they act as if they haven't been around a female in a coon's age.
Eric, a 22-year old engine worker w/ dreams of being a Hot Shot, has a story for everything. Whenever you make a comment about something, he says, "Well, there's actually a story behind that." He has a North Dakota sounding accent, but is from Las Vegas, NM. He attributes it to brain surgery when he was a child. His feet are really wide, which he says is from hopping fences when he was young without shoes on. The impact spread his feet out. His mother used to be really wealthy, but she gave up all her wordly belongings at the recommendations of some guru, and was thus raised very poor. He has been engaged twice to the same woman. Once after two weeks of dating, then she cheated on him. The second time after two months of dating, then she cheated on him again w/ a minister. He would have taker her back again. He's a love-sick fool as sweet as they come. I asked him how he ever gets to know anyone when he's always talking. He says when he stops talking, he gets nervous.
Elliot, is my SCA counterpart. A 23-year old from Virginia. He's quiet, but smart, tireless, and has a subtle, witty sense of humor which is often surprising me. His girlfriend is studying abroad in Italy. They have been together five years. He really wanted this job, calling Larry, our supervisor, every week until he got it. He's very comfortable to be around, even if we don't talk; it seems we already know each other quite well.
Larry is the wildlife biologist for Lincoln. He met me as soon as I arrived on Sunday. He looks at everyone w/ the kindest eyes; he's got to be one of the most genuine, patient people I have me. He's very respectful. I can't imagine him angry at all. He's been at his job for 17 years and loves it. He says it is his hope to help us find something that we love as much too. I hope so also, that's why I'm here.
I've been practicing my MSO 4-note. It's a bit rusty, but let's be honest- it never really was that good. I can't wait to be reunited w/ my owl friends. I can't stop thinking about that first time my eyes met a spotted owl's eyes. That feeling of vulnerability and new love, I can't wait to feel that again.
I don't have internet in my trailor, so unfortunately I will be writing less then I'd hoped.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
I'm in Love! I'm in Love! I'm in Love!
Dear Sedona,
Where did you come from? How could we have not met until just now? Where have you been all my life? I'm so glad I found you. You complete me.
Love, xoxo,
Rayma
I didn't know what the hell I was doing when I randomly picked Sedona to visit on my way to New Mexico. All I had heard is that it was pretty and had great shopping. As you can tell, day two went a lot better than day one. I don't even like shopping that much, so why the heck did I pick it above all other locations? With this next statement, it is evident that I'm a Sedonian... I went to Sedona because I was supposed to go to Sedona, because the universe wanted me there, because the red rock was softly beating my name. Yep, I'm a convert.
For those of you who don't know, Sedona is the new age capital of America. For those of you who don't know what new age is, well, let's just say it has a lot to do with psychics, alternative medicines, auras, that kind of stuff. Now, you might thing Rayma has gone a bit crazy here, but bare with me.
Yesterday began a little like Thursday, slightly uncomfortable and awkward. I got my cup of coffee, then headed over to the bagel place for some sort of concoction of egg, cheese, and bread substances. Then I went to Wildflower Bread Company to pick up my lunch for the tour. I got an unusual, but tasty, roasted sweet potato sandwich.
Soon, it was time for the outing, a vortex jeep tour led by the Lonely Planet recommended Earth Wisdom Jeep Tours. I checked into the tour, and being a few minutes early, I sat down next to a smiley faced, kind-eyed woman who would be joining me on the tour. I learned that her name was Nancy and that she was also traveling alone. We quickly bonded over our common fears of appearing in public alone. Also joining us was an older couple who didn't really look like they liked each other, and their friend. The friend looked disgusted at the red-dusted seats of the jeep, insisting they be cleaned. I peeped in with, "From the looks of it, you might end up getting a little dirty." She didn't say anything else.
Steve, our tour guide, was a groovy, spiritual, cool type of guy who was really sensitive to people's energy. I guess I had some good energy, because he hinted that he wanted me to sit in front beside him. We had to pick up some other riders at a nearby hotel, and I began to get a sense for what this was all about when going to pick these people up. Steve kept talking about how everyone was going through there own stuff today, it's important to respect where everyone is in there life and what they are trying to accomplish in the vortexes, people might break down or have breakthroughs today, one of the guys we were going to pick up is celebrating his birthday, the day he was born, man, that's heavy, the stars and the moon aligned that day. Then Steve asked us all if there were any skeptics of the vortex. I said I didn't even know what a vortex is, so I don't know. So here it is people, as best I can describe it, a vortex is that swirly
pattern you see from tornadoes, dust devils, and swirly water that sucks you down like this picture on the right. Well, in Sedona, vortexes aren't created by elements, but by spiritual energy emanating from the red rocks (scientifically proven, says Steve). There are special places in and around Sedona where these spiritual vortexes are located, but the energy is kinda everywhere, says Steve. It all has to do with the red rocks. The rocks are red because of iron, the core of our planet is made of iron magma and stuff, there is a vortex that spirals from these red rocks on the surface to the core of our planet which helps us connect us to our spiritual selves. Yea, I think.
Our first stop was this really pretty place with a look out and big red rocks all around. I was trying to let the vortex energy in; Steve said the best way is just to lay down on the rocks, empty your mind, and let it take over, man. On my search to find just the right spot with great energy, I saw this really cool cactus, so I leaned in close to take a photo. When I got back up, I saw (and felt) dozens of cactus spines in my leg and crotch! This was obviously a test of whether I was going to let that get in the way of my spiritual conquests. I pulled them out and found a great place to lay down, it was really calling to me, ya know? In a few moments my mind went blank (not hard to do), my heart was open to whatever the other world had in store for me, and I waited. Softly at first I began to feel something, like the faint beat of the earth's heart below me pulsing in my fingertips, then like a song with rounds came the tingle of electricity. It was not scary, nor was I surprised, it was so subtle and gentle. A few stabs from some left over cactus needles and the urge to pee got me up from my trance and I found a suitable location to release. Nancy was still lost in a meditative trance. We didn't say much as we went off to the next location.
The second spot was more beautiful than the first. Steve said it was his favorite place in all Sedona and that not too many people know of it. Steve lit some juniper root around birthday boy and I parked myself on the edge of a ledge and allowed myself to return to that meditative state. I could sense Steve's presence as he walked a few meters to my left and suddenly there was beautiful, Native American flute music echoing throughout the canyon. I felt completely blissful and at ease, every concern and worry I had were gone seeming so insignificant and far away. I'm not sure how much time had passed before he stopped playing, but when he did I began to hear the sniffles of someone behind me. The woman worried about getting dirty was crying. I got up and began walking back to the car, so did she. I mentioned that the music was beautiful, and in between sobs, she agreed. The entire ride to the next location this woman was water works in the back of the jeep, don't get me wrong, I'm so glad she had some kind of break through, but it seemed a bit melodramatic.
Finally we reached the climax of the tour, a native sacred wheel ceremony. We pulled up to a man
-made circle resembling a wheel. It has spokes in it, and a center to burn juniper root. Steve let birthday boy light the juniper root, and then we were instructed to one-by-one circle around the wheel and find a place on the wheel that we gravitated towards. Ladies went first, and we each felt our way out to our places. When everyone had circled and found their most righteous place, Steve went around and told us what these places meant for us. Birthday boy was to the east, he was a turtle. He would have long life, he was brave and strong. Next was me in the south; I was the coyote. I needed to take more chances, have more fun, stop being so serious (me, not fun?). He said that I had the ability, if needed, to communicate with my ancestors in times of trouble. Next were Nancy and the weepy lady; there were south-west and they were the bear. They were going through pivotal changes in there life. They needed to stop being mother bears, and start taking care of themselves. Weepy lady eagerly agreed. To the northwest were the couple that hated each other; they were ravens. They were shape-shifters, who could be many different people. They have a lot of magic, but (adds Steve), might need to rediscover that magic. Bride of birthday boy was to the north, she was the white buffalo. White buffaloes are magical creatures who are only born once every few hundred years (just so happens, there are, coincidentally, a few alive today). The white buffalo represents a unique light which brings peace wherever she goes.
After our "readings" we returned to Sedona. Nancy asks if I would like to join her for dinner, I eagerly accept. Like a true hippie, Steve needs a ride. Of course I take him, he's a cool dude. He talks about the group, the bad energy he was getting from the couple, but he feels it went well over all. I'm driving to take him to his car which is being worked on, and he's talking about how hungry he is, so I suggest we grab lunch. He's supper excited about this idea and he guides me to a Mexican restaurant that serves prickly pear margaritas.
We talk about life, how he met his girlfriend of eight years, and he asks about my journey. I tell him about how I used to not even care about the environment; this blows his mind- "You?" he says. I tell him about how I didn't care about recycling, my impact, how much I drove, if I littered, etc. "What? You didn't recycle? No way?" I told him for a long time I didn't know what I was put on this earth to do, I had no direction. I ended up taking an environmental studies class, which changed everything. I found out how great my impact was and I thought, "Nobody knows this! They need to know this! When they find out what they're doing, they'll change too!" But when I told people, they didn't react like I did. I was confused because they were indifferent. From that point on I made it my mission to get people to care. It's hard to do. You've got to be gentle, put it in a way they can understand. Don't make them feel guilty. Don't make caring a hippie thing or a tree-hugger thing or a leftest thing or a California thing, make it a human thing, a relateable thing, a sensible thing, an economic thing. I've gotten it wrong plenty of times before, gotten my blood all hot, but each time I learn and try to figure out how I could have made that person understand and how I'm going to make the next person understand. You gotta work with people, try to understand where they're coming from, figure out a reason that they can understand, and you gotta try to understand them too. It's a tough one, and I don't exactly know if there's a job out there that renders to this calling, but I just do it.
After a delicious prickly pear margarita and an enchilada that is good (but not as good as my grandma Lita's), I take him back to his car. He's talking about how we're so alike, maybe I was his sister in a past life. We were both in the military, both our birthdays are in March, he worked for the forest service and I'm going to work for the forest service, we both love Guns N' Roses (a sure sign), yep, definitely related in a past life.
After I drop him off, I head over to Amitabha Stupa, a Buddhist shrine, to continue my spiritual journey. I arrive the same time as two other cars, whom evidentially know each other. They smile at me and volunteer that they are here fore a tribal sacred wheel ceremony, I smile, it must be popular. They look at me as if they're wondering why I don't inquire further. They walk ahead of me, and I take my time, trying to feel the energy of the land. Spiritual flags guide me up the path towards the stupas. Finally I reach it, not knowing what a stupa is, I didn't know what to expect, but it is just what I was looking for. I walk around it clockwise, marveling in its beauty. Many people have left small tokens as gifts for the stupa. Behind it is what I think is a Buddha. I spend the rest of the afternoon here, loosing track of time.
When I head back to my car, I see that Nancy has called me. We agree to a time for dinner, before sunset, and I head back to my room for a shower. I find that I have red, dusty boogers, and the shower is the most amazing thing in the world. Nancy picks me up and we head up to the airport restaurant which reportedly has an amazing sunset. Not so. The view is blocked by the runway and wire fences, and the wind is blowing Nancy's salad off the table. We go inside, sacrificing our sunset, but the company makes up for anything the dinner is lacking. I feel that Nancy is an old friend and that we were meant to meet in Sedona.
Following the meal, I convince Nancy to accompany me to Center for the New Age. I leave early tomorrow, and I really want to have my fortune read before I leave. The center is filled with every fantastical, spiritual knick-knack you can think of, from crystals to dragons, from gem stones to tarot cards. They offer a menu of services, including aura readings. I ask if I can have a reading and they hand me a white three-ringed binder with a biography of each of the 15 psychic readers they have. They tell me to choose one that I'm feeling. I choose Anyanka; something about the way she looks at me through the photo tells me she's the one. 15 minutes is $35 (yikes!) and the prices go up from there. I ask for 15 minutes and Anyanka guides me to her office. A laptop sits to the left back corner, a round table is in the center, and I sit down beside her at the table. She asks if there is anything specific I would like to know or are concerned about. Nothing, I say. She lays down a circle of tarot cards and begins my reading, month by month for the year. The things she says about my character and tendencies are eerily true. She tells me what to expect for the next four months of my life (15 minutes = four months). The information if fluid and her intuition seems spot on. I'm excited for the future (I guess she's told me exactly what I want to hear). Towards the end of the reading, her phone announces 'message from so-and-so'. She wraps things up, I give her my money quite satisfied with the reading, and head back to Nancy. "What did she say?" squealed Nancy. I proceed to retell the reading, hoping that by doing so, it would still come true.
Nancy took me back to my room and we hugged and promised to keep in touch. Too tired for anything else, I got into bed, hoping for some stellar, vortex dreams, and completely blissful reflecting upon the day. Sedona, your red rock vortex, iron magma core has penetrated my soul eternally.
Photos soon to come.
Where did you come from? How could we have not met until just now? Where have you been all my life? I'm so glad I found you. You complete me.
Love, xoxo,
Rayma
I didn't know what the hell I was doing when I randomly picked Sedona to visit on my way to New Mexico. All I had heard is that it was pretty and had great shopping. As you can tell, day two went a lot better than day one. I don't even like shopping that much, so why the heck did I pick it above all other locations? With this next statement, it is evident that I'm a Sedonian... I went to Sedona because I was supposed to go to Sedona, because the universe wanted me there, because the red rock was softly beating my name. Yep, I'm a convert.
For those of you who don't know, Sedona is the new age capital of America. For those of you who don't know what new age is, well, let's just say it has a lot to do with psychics, alternative medicines, auras, that kind of stuff. Now, you might thing Rayma has gone a bit crazy here, but bare with me.
Yesterday began a little like Thursday, slightly uncomfortable and awkward. I got my cup of coffee, then headed over to the bagel place for some sort of concoction of egg, cheese, and bread substances. Then I went to Wildflower Bread Company to pick up my lunch for the tour. I got an unusual, but tasty, roasted sweet potato sandwich.
Soon, it was time for the outing, a vortex jeep tour led by the Lonely Planet recommended Earth Wisdom Jeep Tours. I checked into the tour, and being a few minutes early, I sat down next to a smiley faced, kind-eyed woman who would be joining me on the tour. I learned that her name was Nancy and that she was also traveling alone. We quickly bonded over our common fears of appearing in public alone. Also joining us was an older couple who didn't really look like they liked each other, and their friend. The friend looked disgusted at the red-dusted seats of the jeep, insisting they be cleaned. I peeped in with, "From the looks of it, you might end up getting a little dirty." She didn't say anything else.
Steve, our tour guide, was a groovy, spiritual, cool type of guy who was really sensitive to people's energy. I guess I had some good energy, because he hinted that he wanted me to sit in front beside him. We had to pick up some other riders at a nearby hotel, and I began to get a sense for what this was all about when going to pick these people up. Steve kept talking about how everyone was going through there own stuff today, it's important to respect where everyone is in there life and what they are trying to accomplish in the vortexes, people might break down or have breakthroughs today, one of the guys we were going to pick up is celebrating his birthday, the day he was born, man, that's heavy, the stars and the moon aligned that day. Then Steve asked us all if there were any skeptics of the vortex. I said I didn't even know what a vortex is, so I don't know. So here it is people, as best I can describe it, a vortex is that swirly
pattern you see from tornadoes, dust devils, and swirly water that sucks you down like this picture on the right. Well, in Sedona, vortexes aren't created by elements, but by spiritual energy emanating from the red rocks (scientifically proven, says Steve). There are special places in and around Sedona where these spiritual vortexes are located, but the energy is kinda everywhere, says Steve. It all has to do with the red rocks. The rocks are red because of iron, the core of our planet is made of iron magma and stuff, there is a vortex that spirals from these red rocks on the surface to the core of our planet which helps us connect us to our spiritual selves. Yea, I think.Our first stop was this really pretty place with a look out and big red rocks all around. I was trying to let the vortex energy in; Steve said the best way is just to lay down on the rocks, empty your mind, and let it take over, man. On my search to find just the right spot with great energy, I saw this really cool cactus, so I leaned in close to take a photo. When I got back up, I saw (and felt) dozens of cactus spines in my leg and crotch! This was obviously a test of whether I was going to let that get in the way of my spiritual conquests. I pulled them out and found a great place to lay down, it was really calling to me, ya know? In a few moments my mind went blank (not hard to do), my heart was open to whatever the other world had in store for me, and I waited. Softly at first I began to feel something, like the faint beat of the earth's heart below me pulsing in my fingertips, then like a song with rounds came the tingle of electricity. It was not scary, nor was I surprised, it was so subtle and gentle. A few stabs from some left over cactus needles and the urge to pee got me up from my trance and I found a suitable location to release. Nancy was still lost in a meditative trance. We didn't say much as we went off to the next location.
The second spot was more beautiful than the first. Steve said it was his favorite place in all Sedona and that not too many people know of it. Steve lit some juniper root around birthday boy and I parked myself on the edge of a ledge and allowed myself to return to that meditative state. I could sense Steve's presence as he walked a few meters to my left and suddenly there was beautiful, Native American flute music echoing throughout the canyon. I felt completely blissful and at ease, every concern and worry I had were gone seeming so insignificant and far away. I'm not sure how much time had passed before he stopped playing, but when he did I began to hear the sniffles of someone behind me. The woman worried about getting dirty was crying. I got up and began walking back to the car, so did she. I mentioned that the music was beautiful, and in between sobs, she agreed. The entire ride to the next location this woman was water works in the back of the jeep, don't get me wrong, I'm so glad she had some kind of break through, but it seemed a bit melodramatic.
Finally we reached the climax of the tour, a native sacred wheel ceremony. We pulled up to a man
-made circle resembling a wheel. It has spokes in it, and a center to burn juniper root. Steve let birthday boy light the juniper root, and then we were instructed to one-by-one circle around the wheel and find a place on the wheel that we gravitated towards. Ladies went first, and we each felt our way out to our places. When everyone had circled and found their most righteous place, Steve went around and told us what these places meant for us. Birthday boy was to the east, he was a turtle. He would have long life, he was brave and strong. Next was me in the south; I was the coyote. I needed to take more chances, have more fun, stop being so serious (me, not fun?). He said that I had the ability, if needed, to communicate with my ancestors in times of trouble. Next were Nancy and the weepy lady; there were south-west and they were the bear. They were going through pivotal changes in there life. They needed to stop being mother bears, and start taking care of themselves. Weepy lady eagerly agreed. To the northwest were the couple that hated each other; they were ravens. They were shape-shifters, who could be many different people. They have a lot of magic, but (adds Steve), might need to rediscover that magic. Bride of birthday boy was to the north, she was the white buffalo. White buffaloes are magical creatures who are only born once every few hundred years (just so happens, there are, coincidentally, a few alive today). The white buffalo represents a unique light which brings peace wherever she goes.After our "readings" we returned to Sedona. Nancy asks if I would like to join her for dinner, I eagerly accept. Like a true hippie, Steve needs a ride. Of course I take him, he's a cool dude. He talks about the group, the bad energy he was getting from the couple, but he feels it went well over all. I'm driving to take him to his car which is being worked on, and he's talking about how hungry he is, so I suggest we grab lunch. He's supper excited about this idea and he guides me to a Mexican restaurant that serves prickly pear margaritas.
We talk about life, how he met his girlfriend of eight years, and he asks about my journey. I tell him about how I used to not even care about the environment; this blows his mind- "You?" he says. I tell him about how I didn't care about recycling, my impact, how much I drove, if I littered, etc. "What? You didn't recycle? No way?" I told him for a long time I didn't know what I was put on this earth to do, I had no direction. I ended up taking an environmental studies class, which changed everything. I found out how great my impact was and I thought, "Nobody knows this! They need to know this! When they find out what they're doing, they'll change too!" But when I told people, they didn't react like I did. I was confused because they were indifferent. From that point on I made it my mission to get people to care. It's hard to do. You've got to be gentle, put it in a way they can understand. Don't make them feel guilty. Don't make caring a hippie thing or a tree-hugger thing or a leftest thing or a California thing, make it a human thing, a relateable thing, a sensible thing, an economic thing. I've gotten it wrong plenty of times before, gotten my blood all hot, but each time I learn and try to figure out how I could have made that person understand and how I'm going to make the next person understand. You gotta work with people, try to understand where they're coming from, figure out a reason that they can understand, and you gotta try to understand them too. It's a tough one, and I don't exactly know if there's a job out there that renders to this calling, but I just do it.
After a delicious prickly pear margarita and an enchilada that is good (but not as good as my grandma Lita's), I take him back to his car. He's talking about how we're so alike, maybe I was his sister in a past life. We were both in the military, both our birthdays are in March, he worked for the forest service and I'm going to work for the forest service, we both love Guns N' Roses (a sure sign), yep, definitely related in a past life.
After I drop him off, I head over to Amitabha Stupa, a Buddhist shrine, to continue my spiritual journey. I arrive the same time as two other cars, whom evidentially know each other. They smile at me and volunteer that they are here fore a tribal sacred wheel ceremony, I smile, it must be popular. They look at me as if they're wondering why I don't inquire further. They walk ahead of me, and I take my time, trying to feel the energy of the land. Spiritual flags guide me up the path towards the stupas. Finally I reach it, not knowing what a stupa is, I didn't know what to expect, but it is just what I was looking for. I walk around it clockwise, marveling in its beauty. Many people have left small tokens as gifts for the stupa. Behind it is what I think is a Buddha. I spend the rest of the afternoon here, loosing track of time.
When I head back to my car, I see that Nancy has called me. We agree to a time for dinner, before sunset, and I head back to my room for a shower. I find that I have red, dusty boogers, and the shower is the most amazing thing in the world. Nancy picks me up and we head up to the airport restaurant which reportedly has an amazing sunset. Not so. The view is blocked by the runway and wire fences, and the wind is blowing Nancy's salad off the table. We go inside, sacrificing our sunset, but the company makes up for anything the dinner is lacking. I feel that Nancy is an old friend and that we were meant to meet in Sedona.
Following the meal, I convince Nancy to accompany me to Center for the New Age. I leave early tomorrow, and I really want to have my fortune read before I leave. The center is filled with every fantastical, spiritual knick-knack you can think of, from crystals to dragons, from gem stones to tarot cards. They offer a menu of services, including aura readings. I ask if I can have a reading and they hand me a white three-ringed binder with a biography of each of the 15 psychic readers they have. They tell me to choose one that I'm feeling. I choose Anyanka; something about the way she looks at me through the photo tells me she's the one. 15 minutes is $35 (yikes!) and the prices go up from there. I ask for 15 minutes and Anyanka guides me to her office. A laptop sits to the left back corner, a round table is in the center, and I sit down beside her at the table. She asks if there is anything specific I would like to know or are concerned about. Nothing, I say. She lays down a circle of tarot cards and begins my reading, month by month for the year. The things she says about my character and tendencies are eerily true. She tells me what to expect for the next four months of my life (15 minutes = four months). The information if fluid and her intuition seems spot on. I'm excited for the future (I guess she's told me exactly what I want to hear). Towards the end of the reading, her phone announces 'message from so-and-so'. She wraps things up, I give her my money quite satisfied with the reading, and head back to Nancy. "What did she say?" squealed Nancy. I proceed to retell the reading, hoping that by doing so, it would still come true.
Nancy took me back to my room and we hugged and promised to keep in touch. Too tired for anything else, I got into bed, hoping for some stellar, vortex dreams, and completely blissful reflecting upon the day. Sedona, your red rock vortex, iron magma core has penetrated my soul eternally.
Photos soon to come.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Big Red Rocks and Lil' Ol' Me
I'm in my room munching on dinner: a pre-made vortex veggie sandwich, cold sweet potato fries, and a six-pack of Lagunitas IPA. I thought I might be adventurous and try a new brand of beer, or gasp, a new type of beer, but I smiled when I saw it on the shelf here in Sedona; a little piece of home to comfort me.
Today was the first day of my test. It's kind of hard to explain what exactly I mean by that. I am embarking on a personal journey and challenge for myself. You see, although one might perceive me as a very social person, which I am, I find that in my experiences, my most honest moments with myself come from instances when I am completely alone. I think more clearly and deeply, I am able to explore what it is I really desire in life and reconnect with my values, I become more self-motivated and focused, and I feel I am the very best version of myself during these times. Very rarely am I able to meditate like this. In life, we always have something going on, we don't have time to refocus, we always have to be a certain way for somebody. It is my desire these next four months to strive to have those types of wonderful moments with myself as often as possible.
Unfortunately, there in lies a test within this test. When seeking out more quiet, personal, thoughtful moments, one will find themselves more often alone; that's just part of the deal. Can you think of the last time you went out to a meal by yourself? Or, grabbed a beer by yourself? Or, pretty much did anything in a public place for a prolonged period of time, by yourself? The following thoughts might cross your mind: everyone is wondering why I'm alone, everyone is looking at me, I need to look like I'm doing something important so people don't wonder why I'm alone. Being alone is terrifying and uncomfortable, which is completely disabling to my entire intent. Therefore, another ambition of mine is to aspire to be completely at ease and comfortable by myself, around others. This is a personal journal of self-exploration of the spirit, soul, and mind.
Back to this moment, in my room, in my bed, eating a vortex veggie sandwich, cold sweet potato fries, and relishing a cold, delicious, homey Lagunitas IPA. Like I said, this is day one of the test. As I reflect upon the day, I feel that it was a good start to my journey. I felt uncomfortable and exposed on several occasions, but I bore through the discomfort. I ate lunch in Sedona at a yummy veg restaurant called D'lish, by myself. When night falls though, that's the real test. Have you ever had to talk yourself into going out to dinner alone? Oh man. I took a shower and shaved my legs (while wondering who I was shaving my legs for), did my make-up (while wondering who I was doing my make-up for), got dressed in a nice little outfit (I'm sure you could guess what I was wondering), and headed off to a brewery and restaurant recommended to me. Well, the first thing to go wrong is I couldn't find the place, and you know when you're already nervous, you can talk yourself out of anything; but I said 'nope, I didn't shave, do my make-up, and put on a cute little outfit for nothing.' Then I stopped several times to ask for directions, each time going in a completely different direction from before; but I persevered.
Finally, after what seemed like forever (but probably wasn't, because when you're scared every moment seems like forever), I found the place. I sift through a pile of National Geographics from my car, wanting to find one that wouldn't be perceived as too intellectual or serious, just in case I can't handle sitting at a table by myself surrounded by people, with nothing to look at but other people, which might be perceived as creepy, desperate, pathetic, or all of the above. The restaurant was located on the second floor, which because I'm nervous and alone, can't find the stairs and am convinced there aren't any and am becoming completely flustered inside, but keeping my composure (I think). Finally, I ask a guy how to get up there, and he leads me up a completely obvious staircase. Now the moment was upon me; I was to enter the restaurant and request a table for one, order a meal for one, order a beer for one (or a few beers at this point, actually, do you serve hard alcohol?). Low and behold, could you believe it, the place had just closed only moments before I arrived! You have got to be kidding me! I exhaled in an exaggerated fashion, disappointed but relieved. I took a moment to collect my thoughts, and decided I had to try again. I had seen another restaurant/bar earlier that looked somewhat promising, I headed that-a-way. When I pulled up to the new place, I looked inside and realized it was more bar/restaurant than restaurant/bar, and even I wasn't ready to look that pathetic. Nobody goes to a bar/restaurant for the food. With that I decided to call it a night.
Now here I sit in my bed, finishing up the pre-made veggie vortex sandwich and sweet potato fries I got from the local health food grocer, and a six-pack of Lagunitas IPA (don't worry, I won't drink it all tonight). Day two tomorrow, I'm going on a tour.
Today was the first day of my test. It's kind of hard to explain what exactly I mean by that. I am embarking on a personal journey and challenge for myself. You see, although one might perceive me as a very social person, which I am, I find that in my experiences, my most honest moments with myself come from instances when I am completely alone. I think more clearly and deeply, I am able to explore what it is I really desire in life and reconnect with my values, I become more self-motivated and focused, and I feel I am the very best version of myself during these times. Very rarely am I able to meditate like this. In life, we always have something going on, we don't have time to refocus, we always have to be a certain way for somebody. It is my desire these next four months to strive to have those types of wonderful moments with myself as often as possible.
Unfortunately, there in lies a test within this test. When seeking out more quiet, personal, thoughtful moments, one will find themselves more often alone; that's just part of the deal. Can you think of the last time you went out to a meal by yourself? Or, grabbed a beer by yourself? Or, pretty much did anything in a public place for a prolonged period of time, by yourself? The following thoughts might cross your mind: everyone is wondering why I'm alone, everyone is looking at me, I need to look like I'm doing something important so people don't wonder why I'm alone. Being alone is terrifying and uncomfortable, which is completely disabling to my entire intent. Therefore, another ambition of mine is to aspire to be completely at ease and comfortable by myself, around others. This is a personal journal of self-exploration of the spirit, soul, and mind.
Back to this moment, in my room, in my bed, eating a vortex veggie sandwich, cold sweet potato fries, and relishing a cold, delicious, homey Lagunitas IPA. Like I said, this is day one of the test. As I reflect upon the day, I feel that it was a good start to my journey. I felt uncomfortable and exposed on several occasions, but I bore through the discomfort. I ate lunch in Sedona at a yummy veg restaurant called D'lish, by myself. When night falls though, that's the real test. Have you ever had to talk yourself into going out to dinner alone? Oh man. I took a shower and shaved my legs (while wondering who I was shaving my legs for), did my make-up (while wondering who I was doing my make-up for), got dressed in a nice little outfit (I'm sure you could guess what I was wondering), and headed off to a brewery and restaurant recommended to me. Well, the first thing to go wrong is I couldn't find the place, and you know when you're already nervous, you can talk yourself out of anything; but I said 'nope, I didn't shave, do my make-up, and put on a cute little outfit for nothing.' Then I stopped several times to ask for directions, each time going in a completely different direction from before; but I persevered.
Finally, after what seemed like forever (but probably wasn't, because when you're scared every moment seems like forever), I found the place. I sift through a pile of National Geographics from my car, wanting to find one that wouldn't be perceived as too intellectual or serious, just in case I can't handle sitting at a table by myself surrounded by people, with nothing to look at but other people, which might be perceived as creepy, desperate, pathetic, or all of the above. The restaurant was located on the second floor, which because I'm nervous and alone, can't find the stairs and am convinced there aren't any and am becoming completely flustered inside, but keeping my composure (I think). Finally, I ask a guy how to get up there, and he leads me up a completely obvious staircase. Now the moment was upon me; I was to enter the restaurant and request a table for one, order a meal for one, order a beer for one (or a few beers at this point, actually, do you serve hard alcohol?). Low and behold, could you believe it, the place had just closed only moments before I arrived! You have got to be kidding me! I exhaled in an exaggerated fashion, disappointed but relieved. I took a moment to collect my thoughts, and decided I had to try again. I had seen another restaurant/bar earlier that looked somewhat promising, I headed that-a-way. When I pulled up to the new place, I looked inside and realized it was more bar/restaurant than restaurant/bar, and even I wasn't ready to look that pathetic. Nobody goes to a bar/restaurant for the food. With that I decided to call it a night.
Now here I sit in my bed, finishing up the pre-made veggie vortex sandwich and sweet potato fries I got from the local health food grocer, and a six-pack of Lagunitas IPA (don't worry, I won't drink it all tonight). Day two tomorrow, I'm going on a tour.
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