Forward
I had a
strong sense I should go to Wupatki to talk with the spirits about the macular
hole developing in my left eye. It will
be hot there, I thought. Then I
brightened – like the sweat! It would be
like going into the lodge for a ceremony.
When I
arrived, I covered up from head to toe against the sun. I paused among the
junipers and looked around. The sky was
blue, with a few, thin clouds. All was
silent, and I felt the spirits.
At the
edge of the drop-off into the tangle of tributaries to Dead Man Wash, I stopped
to offer corn meal, tobacco, and water. Unexpectedly,
grief gripped my heart. We took the
lodges down last fall when we moved. The
days and years of sweat lodge and vision quest were done. This time of grand adventure, of challenge
and discovery -- the best chapter of my life up until now -- was over. Ah…ah…ayah! In that moment, all over again, I
couldn’t stand it. We had to do it – and
I knew it was time -- but it still seemed irreconcilable. Out there on the rim that day, I felt the
impossibility of that ending.
Ah….ayah! Tears ran down my face. I descended into the canyon, praying for
assistance on this matter. I walked
through a patch of soft, sandy, soil.
There were fewer rodent burrows than in the past, and three coyote
dens. I didn’t see any coyotes, for
which I grateful. Their absence said,
“This will be straightforward.”
A
strangely dense juniper marks the turn in the canyon where the rock ledges and
overhangs begin. It wafted a warm “hello”
as I passed. I felt comforted.
It had rained recently. The potsherds blanketing the ground were
washed clean. The air was soft and
fresh, the vegetation newly green, and a pothole in the rock was half full of
water. I needed to build a smudge
fire. Down the canyon over there, I
thought, that is the right place to get some sticks. I wanted to do what I was told, so everything
would be right.
The fire
started instantly. It had been a dry
winter, and things were still dry. Smoke
from the smudge mix swirled away on the air currents. I smoked the pipe and was filled with love
for the spirits. I asked for help, and
lay down in the shade of the overhang amid the accumulated gravel, dried weed
bits, dust and dung.
This
place has always had a sense of the feminine about it – very old, very wise,
deeply vital, and completely in the present.
“Forward, forward, forward!” The
energy was powerful, and the message uncompromising. Then I understood. I had reached the end of my possibilities as
the person I have been, latched tightly to my attachments, limitations, and
pain. I had done well with what I had,
but it was finished.
“Forward!”
“What
exactly do I need to do?” I asked. At
that precise moment, my glasses frame sprung apart and the lens fell out. The temple screw disappeared into the debris.
Bemused, I put the lens with the East
pipe stem, standing for new beginnings.
I looked around for the screw. I
looked out across the valley. I must
need to see things differently, I thought – surely the message my poor left eye
was trying to convey. I looked again for
the screw. There it was, right in front
of my nose. “Thank you spirits,” I said,
“I really appreciate that.” I put the
frame, the lens, and the screw on a bandanna in preparation for assembly, and
waved the feather over it. “Blessings on
whatever this is.”
Later
that day I walked out under a cool, shading cloud, which I took to be a
kindness from the spirits. My grief had
eased; the spirits had caused something inside to change for the better. The sacred
objects were adamant: “There is something different for the two of you to do
now.” Subsequently I discovered my
compass was broken, with shattered glass all over the bottom of my day
pack. My watch also stopped. “Forward,” from this point on, was clearly going
to be a different matter than before.