Vision Quest
Messages from the Seraphim
6/14/10
Day One
From the beginning of
recorded history spiritual adepts have gone out to natural settings to seek
enlightenment. From Buddha to Moses to
Christ—and even Joseph Smith (the Mormon mystic)—all have gone into the
wilderness to be alone (all one) with their Creator. There is something about being alone in the wilderness that
brings us closer and more aware of the four elements and our connection to a
creational source. We go to seek truths and divine realization, just as many of
the ancient prophets did in their time.
Though the Vision Quest
is associated with Native American traditions—it is practiced all over the
world. As an expression of the archetypical "Heroic Journey," the
vision quest has been enacted in religious pilgrimages, mythological tales
(including the story of the search for the Holy Grail), and our own daily
pursuit of truth and purpose.
In
many Native American tribes, the vision quest is a turning point in life taken
before puberty to find oneself and the intended spiritual and life direction.
When an older child is ready, he or she will go on a personal, spiritual quest
alone in the wilderness, often in conjunction with a period of fasting. This
usually lasts for a number of days while the child is attuned to the spirit
world. Usually, a Guardian animal will come in a vision or dream, and the
child's life direction will appear at some point. The child returns to the
tribe, and once the child has grown, will pursue that direction in life.
A vision quest may include long walks in
uninhabited, monotonous areas (tundra, inland, mountain); fasting; sleep
deprivation; being closed in a small room (e.g. igloo). The technique may be
similar to sensory deprivation to a rite of cleansing and purification. One
objective is to commune with the other side.
Native American totems are said to be capable of
speaking through all things, including messages or instructions in the form of
an animal or bird. Generally a physical representation of the vision or message
such as a feather, fur or a rock is collected and placed in the seeker's
medicine bag to ensure the power of the vision will stay with the individual to
remind, protect or guide him.
In its own way, the vision quest is an
Initiation not unlike the days of the ancient mystery school teachings where
one learns about themselves and the mysteries of the universe are often
revealed to them. It is a time of internal transformation and renewal. Who am
I? Why am I here? Physical surroundings allow the soul to move into the grid or
the collective unconsciousness. (Some
information here has been borrowed from internet sites.)
I’ve gone on various vision quests in my life to
seek answers from a divine source to questions such as; what is my true purpose
in life?; what is my Native American totem and name?; should I include polygamy
as a lifestyle choice?; what does it mean to be “one in spirit”? All have been answered in profound and
powerful ways and so I’ve come to trust in this process called “vision
questing.” As far as my intention for
this particular vision quest—I wanted to seek some direction in my life and
answers to the question—why had I lost Heartsong? I wanted to cleanse myself of the pain and
suffering surrounding all of that. I
also wanted to fast and clear myself of my own agendas and truly seek the
guidance of Holy Spirit. My spirit was
crying out for answers; and inwardly crying from the pain of losing something
very precious to me that I’d worked so hard to create which had brutally been
torn away from me. I also wished to make
peace with God as I was angry with the male aspects of Him/Her and wanted to reconcile
this anger within myself. And last but
not least, I was really looking forward to communing with Mother Earth and
being healed within her loving, nurturing arms.
I knew She had the power and wisdom to heal me.
I’d mixed up two gallons of Green Drink the
morning before court in preparation for my vision quest. Green Drink is an herbal concoction using
about a dozen or so wild-crafted herbs I’d gathered this time from my previous
weekend hike to Diamond Fork. I’d been
making Green Drink for over 30 years—ever since I learned about it from an
incredible midwife in Logan when I was pregnant with my first child, Aubrey
(who turns 33 in August). It has been my
life-blood tonic through 11 pregnancies and nursing babies; not to mention it
is what’s kept me so youthful throughout the decades. Over the years I’ve perfected the formula to
the point that Destiny and I are ready to sell it at the U of U Farmers Market
at the end of the month as a new business venture. I taught all of my children how to make it
and they continue with this family tradition for their own health and
vitality. It’s probably one of the best
things I’ve ever taught them. I also
sponsored a free Green Drink class last year while I was still at Heartsong and
it was very well received. But enough
about Green Drink—on with my story.
It was around 11:30 when I arrived at my
favorite hot springs pool up Diamond Fork Canyon. It was a warm, sunny day and I felt relieved
to unload my backpack, disrobe my clothes, and slip gratefully into the warm water
of the designated “clothing optional” upper pools. There was a friendly couple I’d met the
previous weekend already soaking in the main pool of the two pools, and the
temperature of the water was tepid—perfect after a long, sweaty two-mile
hike. They politely asked if the temperature
was okay and I responded with a sultry “yes….it’s absolutely perfect.”
Cindy and Glen (names have been changed for
obvious reasons) had been soaking for over an hour already, and although Cindy
was still in her swimsuit (she was somewhat body-conscious being a large
woman), Glen was enjoying his soak au naturale.
We exchanged polite conversation concerning their near run-in with a
rattler on the way up and Cindy was obviously still shaken as she “hated snakes.” I, on the other hand, never minded snakes
having grown up with two older brothers who were avid snake hunters and loved
to tease me with them. And Brad owned
two rather large, beautiful Boas when I first moved in with him that would get
out of their aquariums occasionally and startle me when I would find them
knocking items off shelves. Snakes, for
the most part, were part of my existence although I wasn’t looking forward to
running into any rattlers on my hikes in and out of Diamond Fork during the next
three days. The conversation concluded
with Glen explaining that “the little buggers were the worst if they bit you as
they don’t know when to let go and will put more venom into your system. These ones ya really got to watch out for. They could be deadly to ya.”
About an hour or so went by and I was getting
rather sunburned soaking in the sun. The
smaller pool was shaded by a large overhanging rock so I decided to slip into
that one while Cindy adjusted the temperature to make it a bit cooler by
removing part of a towel that held back the cold stream water. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts, but
Glen decided to join me in the other pool.
He immediately claimed the area beneath the rock so I opted to sit with
my head on my arms along the rock sides with my back against the sun and away
from him. I sat silently watching the
cold stream water splash against the side walls as it cascaded downstream
towards the falls where the other hot pools were located. And it seemed that my thoughts wanted to flow
along with the stream.
The mind is such a magnificent vehicle. It can take you practically anywhere you want
to go. It can sail you on a magic carpet
ride to heavenly heights of mystical awareness; or it can plunge you down into
the deepest, darkest crevices of the soul.
At that moment, I choose to explore the dark crevices in the sinkholes
of my mind—the ones I’d been afraid to approach before…the ones concerning
Heartsong. My first dark thought:
God—why did you refuse to answer my prayers concerning saving Heartsong? You knew how much love and effort I put
towards making it a beautiful, holy sanctuary and how successful it had
become. Why couldn’t you create the
miracle I was asking for…actually, demanding…so
that all my hopes and dreams could continue?
Are you ignoring me, God, or perhaps even cursing me because I’m indeed
guilty of some sort of sin or indiscretion?
Was I not doing everything in the name of love and in the name of God as
your Holy Spirit guided me to? Or was I
listening to the wrong spirit—God—and
have I been listening to the wrong spirit
all along in my life?
I could feel tears start to flow down my face
and I wiped them quickly before Cindy or Glen could see them. I washed my hand off in the glistening stream
and it seemed as if the water ran through my fingertips…like my dreams had for
Heartsong. Was everything in life this
transient—here one day, alive and vibrant, and then gone the next like water
down a stream? How could I hold onto
anything in life if this is what life and dreams were made of—watery nothingness? Why, then, dream anyway—if it just slips away
without any way of holding onto it?
What’s the purpose in all of it?
I cried again as I watched all of my dreams seemingly disappear
downstream.
I sat in silence not necessarily wanting or even
caring if I got any answers to any of my questions. All I needed was to get it all out of my
system and at that moment it was the only way I knew how—just throw it up. I laid my head on top of my hands and rested
as the sun’s rays settled down on my left cheek. I relaxed with the warmth of these caressing
fingers somehow comforting me.
But then an even darker reality began to consume
me. So now what do I do with my
life? I no longer had a place to do what
I enjoyed doing for a living—massage and Watsu. And now I no longer had a
massage therapy license as my National Certification had expired at the end of
March and I was still under investigation so I couldn’t renew it. I hadn’t dared do a single massage since
January as cops were patrolling my place on a regular basis trying to scare off
all that was left of my clientele. Even
on Sundays during our Sunday Celebrations we witnessed “compliance officers” in
their clearly marked vehicles drive around and around Heartsong obviously
trying to scare off my church members.
It was such a shame and a sham.
People from all over the country…and the
world…had come to me because frankly, they stated, “I was the best.” One client from San Francisco had told me
that I was “light years ahead of any tantric therapist he’d ever encountered in
all his years of experiencing tantra work throughout the world. He came to me each time he flew into Utah on
his business trips and I always looked forward to seeing him. His wife, who had recently died in a car
accident, had been a tantric therapist herself—and we had spent some intense
sessions channeling her spiritually so that he could heal from this
tragedy. I’d held Mike in my arms one
session as he wept uncontrollably for her—I had so reminded him of her. Now Heartsong would be gone and no way for us
to connect any longer. And this was not
the only one—there were hundreds of men like Mike—needing….no wanting…to be
healed from the tragedies in life that had caused damage and separation. In fact, my clients probably numbered in the
thousands by now in the year and a half I’d opened up Heartsong. God had indeed been behind this miracle of
Heartsong…and now He had taken it away from me.
I then thought of the Watsu pool and the Jacuzzi
that we’d spend so much hard-earned money and time in creating space for in the
privacy of the front yard. The new
tenants Bob had rented the building to wanted it all torn out of there. What a time-consuming job it would be tearing
down the only Watsu pool in town—or probably in the entire state of Utah. What a waste of time and energy it had all
been for naught. This summer would have
been the turning point for Heartsong to really make a profit as all of our
profits prior had been reinvested into improvements—which were now to be torn
out. What a tragic waste of money and
efforts that could have gone towards something else—perhaps for the
improvements on my 15 acres in Indianola.
What a fool I had been for listening to my heart and wanting to create
something “special” for the folks living in my hometown of Salt Lake. If I’d had opened my business anywhere else
in the country, it would have undoubtedly been a huge success. And, I wouldn’t have been in fear of being
arrested!
My thoughts turned to that fateful day in early
January when ten cops raided Heartsong, bursting through the door of my private
therapy room to catch me in the act of doing an Ananda Nirvana ceremony…in the
nude. It was all so startling and
embarrassing—especially when I found out it had all been a sting operation with
the client on my table actually an undercover detective from the vice
squad. I suspected that they just wanted
to get their jollies off like the five Utah county sheriffs who had arrested
the women fire-fighters up here at Diamond Fork while skinny-dipping at night
in the pools. Perhaps if I hadn’t had
been so outspoken in the local news media, Heartsong wouldn’t have been
targeted. And perhaps it all could have
been avoided…but then again…perhaps it was all meant to be. How could I know for sure?
I turned my head over as the suns rays were
burning my left check. I relaxed again
into a sort of reverie—allowing the warm water esponge all of the negative
energy out of me, sending it downstream.
I wanted more than anything else to be clear of it.
My thoughts then turned to Brad and the past
weekend we had spent together. It had
rained all day Saturday, yet we had enjoyed having brunch at Marie Callanders,
running errands, and watching movies in the evening. Sunday turned out sunny and Brad got ambitious
organizing all of our “stuff” in the garage.
Now I realize it was in anticipation for moving out all the spa stuff
from Heartsong. It now made sense why he
seemed so unusually ambitious on a Sunday.
My friend Devin and I chose to spend the day lying out in the sun by the
pool and soaking in the Jacuzzi of the new town-house complex Brad and I had
moved into a couple of months earlier.
Devin had moved in with us a few weeks ago as he needed a temporary
place to “crash.” We enjoyed his company
and quirky sense of humor. He, like me,
was a wordsmith and we spent hours “mind-masturbating” at night using clever
word-plays.
That evening a sudden thunderstorm blew in
sending Brad scrambling to get all the things inside the garage he’d left
sitting out in the driveway. He didn’t
want any of the “stuff” to get wet. I
sat on the back porch watching the incredible cloud formations create an eerie
iridescent “spaceship” with lightning flashing behind it and thunder roaring
beyond. Devin called it “the perfect storm”
as he walked through the door just as rain drops began pelting the freshly
installed driveway pavement and Brad was pulling in the last item. The three of us watched through the open
front door as the rain poured down like the sky had undamned a whole reservoir
all at once. In a matter of moments the
streets had turned into rivulets and we stared in unbelief at the storm’s
violence. As it finally subsided, the
three of us went to our separate bedrooms.
The energy of the storm had made Brad and me horny so we made love. A part of me felt bad for Devin having to
listen in the room next to us, but…oh well, things could be so much different
if men were as open as women…or at least this
woman.
My mind then turned to the words of a poem I’d
been composing on my hike in….Gentle fingers…no, tender fingertips trace
paisley patterns on my naked body…no, on my damp skin. Suddenly, I was distracted by the sounds of
water splashing. I turned around to find
Glen with a grin on his face masturbating.
Cindy had settled herself in the other pool and I was still alone with
him. With a silly grin on his face, I
wondered if he thought this was a sexual solicitation of some sort. They had both mentioned they had enjoyed the City Weekly article and I wondered if the
article had given them the wrong impression about me. I definitely was not interested in a “threesome” with them…let alone any type of
sexual encounter with anyone up at the hot springs without Brad there. I turned around, trying to ignore him until
another hiker showed up and joined us.
Perfect timing. I enjoyed the
rest of the afternoon talking casually and then deeply with an intelligent
airline pilot named Charles about his work, the Mormon religion and
spirituality. Glen, bored with the
conversation, joined Cindy in the other pool when she finally got brave enough
to remover her suit. “Men,” I said to
myself as I got out and got dressed at the same time Charles was about to
leave. He had sprinted all the way up
the two-mile trail and was now getting ready to run back. But I knew I wanted to take my time…watching
for snakes on the path.
It was dusk when I pulled my van onto our 15
acres in Indianola. Things looked the
same as when we’d picked Brody up to go down to San Diego with us. It was light enough, so I grabbed my computer
(that I’d been charging on the car battery charger) to write down the poem I’d
finished composing on my hike back:
The
Perfect Storm
Tender
fingertips
Trace
paisley patterns
Upon my
moist skin
Pink
polka dots tighten
With
anticipation
Of
succulent lips
Caressing
them
Hard
rain beats loudly
On my
window pane
In
persistent yearning
To come
inside
Mountain
breezes
Rattle
shutters
Lifting
and falling
In
rhythmic synchronicity
Thunder
crashes
Reverberating
off canyon walls
Echoing
orgasmic outbursts
Lightning
flashes
Illuminating
the twilight afterglow
Of two
bodies intertwined
In warm
dusk
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