Sedona, she does not disappoint. Not only does the theme "there are no accidents here" prevail, but curiously, the natural vortexes rising from the Red Rocks amplify that which swirls within and invites deep unconscious processes into the light.
And so it is, in the heat of my experiences here in Sedona, I am questioning the issues of transparency, authenticity, and personal disclosure as it relates to my immediate experiences, my "awakening," and writing this blog. Perhaps you can already surmise that lurking beneath these perilous questions of who, what, and how much, lies a deep core fear.
Originally, I looked at the blog as an opportunity to be accountable to myself, to share what I was learning (hoping it would be meaningful to others), and to practice the craft of writing. I did not know I would come up against the long arms of old anxieties about being judged to the point of alienation and isolation and even persecution, for simply being me. Of course, at the time, I also did not know my life would unfold on the fringes of three-dimensional reality (gulp).
“Honesty and transparency make you vulnerable. Be honest and transparent anyway.” -- Mother Theresa
And so, the test of time and these pages will reveal how honest and transparent I become. I do believe it is in my best interest to move beyond my fears, and in the same breath, I feel there is a way to be measured and gentle in the process. And as always, I hope it touches others who may stumble upon these words.
More Sedona stories to come.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Many Paths Through the Woods
My first full day in Sedona was nothing short of magical. The energy here amplifies all that stirs deep within the psyche. The expression "there are no accidents" could be the city motto.
The day started with a walk through a seven circuit labyrinth here at the INNstitute. As I entered, I became aware that the final destination, the center circle, was close to me even as my journey began. As I slowly wound my way around, I was taken by the flow of contraction and expansion with each curve and layer.
When I arrived at the center, I spontaneously began to think about the mystical experiences that have come to me in the last few weeks. I saw, for the first time, the gentleness of the "approach" as if there was an intelligence that knows I harbor old fears based on frightening childhood experiences.
Later that day, I met Naomi for our first hike together. I knew all was right in the world when meandering through the Peace Park, we saw a dog. (I love you Milo.) Okay, that may be stretching the magical thing a wee bit, but it's no stretch to be altered by the Red Rock cathedrals and the dance of shadow and light illuminating the relationships among the green and blue succulents, and the twisted juniper trees.
Before leaving the park, I decided to be still, close my eyes in front of the Amitabha Stupa to focus my energy. Within a minute, Naomi was tapping me to tell me there were two Javelinas just yards away foraging on the prickly cactus. She told me she had been hoping to site these outrageous looking creatures ever since she arrived in Sedona one year ago, and now with the two of us reunited, they came out into the open. We took this as an auspicious sign and vowed to research their mythic significance.
Our next adventure was to hike around the area of the Airport Vortex. Climbing just a short distance, the vista, as far as the eye can see, is a city of red rocked mesas like islands dotting a great sea. The sun was now lower in the sky and the light amplified the very essence of life all around us. It was as if everything was saying, "look at me!" And indeed, I did. With awe and gratitude.
As we were nearing the end of our walk, I glanced down and could barely believe what I was seeing; laying on its' side was the front half of a very small Javelina carcass. The ivory bones of its' tiny spine, the split hoof on bended leg, an empty eye socket (no doubt the eye itself a yummy delicacy for another desert creature), just a young one separated from its tribe and left vulnerable to the many predators lurking about.
Naomi and I were kind of in shock. And of course, being in Sedona and all, we did not take it as a random find. When I returned home I searched for clues on the meaning of the Javelina and discovered the name translated from Brazilian means "many paths through the woods." They are considered to be like Coyote, the shapeshifter, a term I often use to describe myself, though I have yet to understand it completely or claim it fully. In fact, grappling with this deep knowing is what brought me to the land of the Red Rocks.
And now, laying in bed, full and tired, I also see the young Javelina corpse as the part of me that died in order to cope with "weird" childhood experiences that were just too hard to comprehend.
A magical day, indeed.
The day started with a walk through a seven circuit labyrinth here at the INNstitute. As I entered, I became aware that the final destination, the center circle, was close to me even as my journey began. As I slowly wound my way around, I was taken by the flow of contraction and expansion with each curve and layer.
When I arrived at the center, I spontaneously began to think about the mystical experiences that have come to me in the last few weeks. I saw, for the first time, the gentleness of the "approach" as if there was an intelligence that knows I harbor old fears based on frightening childhood experiences.
Later that day, I met Naomi for our first hike together. I knew all was right in the world when meandering through the Peace Park, we saw a dog. (I love you Milo.) Okay, that may be stretching the magical thing a wee bit, but it's no stretch to be altered by the Red Rock cathedrals and the dance of shadow and light illuminating the relationships among the green and blue succulents, and the twisted juniper trees.
Before leaving the park, I decided to be still, close my eyes in front of the Amitabha Stupa to focus my energy. Within a minute, Naomi was tapping me to tell me there were two Javelinas just yards away foraging on the prickly cactus. She told me she had been hoping to site these outrageous looking creatures ever since she arrived in Sedona one year ago, and now with the two of us reunited, they came out into the open. We took this as an auspicious sign and vowed to research their mythic significance.
Our next adventure was to hike around the area of the Airport Vortex. Climbing just a short distance, the vista, as far as the eye can see, is a city of red rocked mesas like islands dotting a great sea. The sun was now lower in the sky and the light amplified the very essence of life all around us. It was as if everything was saying, "look at me!" And indeed, I did. With awe and gratitude.
As we were nearing the end of our walk, I glanced down and could barely believe what I was seeing; laying on its' side was the front half of a very small Javelina carcass. The ivory bones of its' tiny spine, the split hoof on bended leg, an empty eye socket (no doubt the eye itself a yummy delicacy for another desert creature), just a young one separated from its tribe and left vulnerable to the many predators lurking about.
Naomi and I were kind of in shock. And of course, being in Sedona and all, we did not take it as a random find. When I returned home I searched for clues on the meaning of the Javelina and discovered the name translated from Brazilian means "many paths through the woods." They are considered to be like Coyote, the shapeshifter, a term I often use to describe myself, though I have yet to understand it completely or claim it fully. In fact, grappling with this deep knowing is what brought me to the land of the Red Rocks.
And now, laying in bed, full and tired, I also see the young Javelina corpse as the part of me that died in order to cope with "weird" childhood experiences that were just too hard to comprehend.
A magical day, indeed.
Sedona Bound
It was early in January when Sedona began to whisper my name. I don't recall exactly how it happened, but I do remember feeling, on some level, that I was already journeying to the land of the Red Rocks. Then, the whisper turned into synchronicities and sweet connections, and before I knew it, I was on a moving stairway headed to Sedona--for real.
From the moment I arrived in Phoenix I was overcome by a deep sense of gratitude. The energy here, unlike the Pacific NW, feels more feminine and receptive. It's something about the airy trees and the light; space between space between space.
By the time I arrived at my destination in Page Springs, the sun had dipped behind the jagged cliffs that lay beyond the flat lands. I have yet to behold the Red Rocks and Sedona proper, that comes tomorrow, but I already feel I have "arrived."
My lodging for the next two weeks, the INNstitute at Sedona is a blessing I can barely comprehend. The home is perched on a bluff overlooking a forest of trees I do not know yet, and gentle rolling hills that suggest the shape of a feminine deity. It feels expansive and emergent here, as if inviting one to bend and sway and trust.
And a more auspicious start to my journey could not have been planned. I spent a few hours catching up with an old friend Robin Weeks, learning about his journey into "contemplative science" and grokking evolution from the inside out.
The inside out... exactly how I hope to connect with all Sedona has to offer.
From the moment I arrived in Phoenix I was overcome by a deep sense of gratitude. The energy here, unlike the Pacific NW, feels more feminine and receptive. It's something about the airy trees and the light; space between space between space.
By the time I arrived at my destination in Page Springs, the sun had dipped behind the jagged cliffs that lay beyond the flat lands. I have yet to behold the Red Rocks and Sedona proper, that comes tomorrow, but I already feel I have "arrived."
My lodging for the next two weeks, the INNstitute at Sedona is a blessing I can barely comprehend. The home is perched on a bluff overlooking a forest of trees I do not know yet, and gentle rolling hills that suggest the shape of a feminine deity. It feels expansive and emergent here, as if inviting one to bend and sway and trust.
And a more auspicious start to my journey could not have been planned. I spent a few hours catching up with an old friend Robin Weeks, learning about his journey into "contemplative science" and grokking evolution from the inside out.
The inside out... exactly how I hope to connect with all Sedona has to offer.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Oh Where, Oh Where
It's been two years since my minor foray (5 posts) into sharing my life via short blogging vignettes. I don't know why I stopped. And I sure as heck don't know how to capture two years, here and now. But I want to. It has been an extraordinary time.
It began with a month long journey of mystical experiences and synchronicities unlike anything I had ever experienced. The veil parted and I "saw the light." I assumed these expanded moments of pure oneness were happening to me for a reason, and I really believed I was ushering in a new way to be human.
And then it stopped.
And I died.
Kinda.
Looking back, I see the call was just the start of a long initiation. In this time I have been a snake shedding the skin of identity and ego. I have let go of most everything that made me, me. You know what I mean. It's the answer you give when someone asks you what you're doing in life. It's your work or your hobby, your current reading list or your travels. It's the way you contribute to the world.
I dubbed this phase of my life "the disappearance of Neva." And it was hard (she says with deep gratitude for having the great privilege of taking the inward journey).
In a world where extroverts and over achievers are idolized, I retreated and under achieved. And in that place, I reviewed my belief systems, unraveled my soul contracts and grappled with actualizing my potentiality.
I went through many stages: depression, despair, fear, confusion, then ease and grace, freedom, and comfort.
When I got to comfort, I knew it was time to shift, to take the next steps of quantum leaping.
- Rumi
And so, through all of the micro discoveries along the way, I am in touch with the core competencies that are being asked of me. Of course, the "call" has been streaming through the mythic story of my life for as long as I can remember. I am awake. And there is work to be done.
It began with a month long journey of mystical experiences and synchronicities unlike anything I had ever experienced. The veil parted and I "saw the light." I assumed these expanded moments of pure oneness were happening to me for a reason, and I really believed I was ushering in a new way to be human.
And then it stopped.
And I died.
Kinda.
Looking back, I see the call was just the start of a long initiation. In this time I have been a snake shedding the skin of identity and ego. I have let go of most everything that made me, me. You know what I mean. It's the answer you give when someone asks you what you're doing in life. It's your work or your hobby, your current reading list or your travels. It's the way you contribute to the world.
I dubbed this phase of my life "the disappearance of Neva." And it was hard (she says with deep gratitude for having the great privilege of taking the inward journey).
In a world where extroverts and over achievers are idolized, I retreated and under achieved. And in that place, I reviewed my belief systems, unraveled my soul contracts and grappled with actualizing my potentiality.
I went through many stages: depression, despair, fear, confusion, then ease and grace, freedom, and comfort.
When I got to comfort, I knew it was time to shift, to take the next steps of quantum leaping.
The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don’t go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don’t go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don’t go back to sleep.
Don’t go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don’t go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don’t go back to sleep.
- Rumi
And so, through all of the micro discoveries along the way, I am in touch with the core competencies that are being asked of me. Of course, the "call" has been streaming through the mythic story of my life for as long as I can remember. I am awake. And there is work to be done.
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