Finding My Way

Sedona is a trip. Waiting in line at the copy store the other day, I watched a gal carefully sizing a beautiful drawing of the chakras. In front of me a guy was packaging a draft copy of a book called "Growing Your Consciousness" (or something close to that).

Today, at the coffee shop a crone approached me and spontaneously shared about the blue light that guided her to Jesse Wilde, and how they could exchange bodies when they made love. She thought I was someone called White Dove and she liked my energy.

In the Sedona weekly newspaper, and I'm talking about your common local news rag here, there's a story about a resident man who finds heart rocks when he hikes and gives them away. He's been doing it for six years now. At first he had to hunt for them. Now they just jump out at him. I'm serious, this was an article in the paper. Oh and, he plays the flute too.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not mocking. Far from it. I'm on downright overwhelm. Do I buy the book from the local woman who talks to animals? Do I get my aura photographed? Have a psychic reading? Go on a Shamanic journey? Do I catch the lecture on the implications of Virgo in full moon or learn how to improve my psychic abilities? Should I buy some resonate crystals or a divination deck? Whoa.

It's so much to take in, my head is spinning and I can feel my immune system taking a dive.

And through it all, I'm finding my way.

For now, the guidance I receive is really quite simple. What calls to me more than anything is connecting with the amazing country here. All of it. Dry river beds, layered rocks, stark plateaus, and the bark of "alligator" trees. I am moved beyond words by the psychedelic color palette expressed in the plant world: chartreuse and periwinkle succulents and silvery bare branches; crimson dust; speckled turquoise lichen on gray stones; and agave plants, some with a single towering branch that supports dry flowers perched on spoked stems.

There is no brisk walking happening here (though I have been scrambling up rocks to see natural bridges of blond stone and far off mesas). Instead, I often find myself needing to stop just to behold the beauty and feel the joyful energy at play. Fairies, indeed.

Also, I am keenly aware of the chance meetings with people, the casual words expressed---"you look like you belong in Sedona," and "don't I know you?"---are something else to notice. Not that I am expecting anything, like, let's say, blue light to guide me to a wowy zowy sexual experience (hummm, maybe I should rethink that), but I do feel a sense of kismet lurking around the corner.

Oh and, it's only day three. OMG.