The bright day of the soul can be as harrowing as the dark night

I dismissed each of them nearly as soon as they arrived. I figured that if they were to come, I would deal with it then, but for the moment I would remain, well, in the moment. 

I took this new development as a sign of  progress.  Perhaps, even, that I had in my short time become so much like my new environment that I was not to be distinguishable from it.

So oddly enough, during the entire ordeal I saw no four-leggeds at all... not even a squirrel.  Birds came aplenty.  Ravens checked me out.  I saw one eagle in the far distance. Two hawks landed in trees just outside the circle and called out. A troupe of swallows performed above me, around me, and once, just in front of me.  Three hummingbirds came by;  one hovered by my face for a while, but evidently didn't find me full of nectar.

I was extraordinarily tired all day. I almost fell from my stump twice. I stood in the sun to try to get warm.

I discovered one major shortcoming from my site choice. When I chose it, the afternoon was fine and hot and the wind was still. Now, it was blowing quite hard and the sun was blanketed in leaves for almost all day. It had dropped to 19 the first night; the second night was to be 17.

Since I had knocked over my altar, I decided to carry my prayerstick all day and walk clockwise around my mesa.  My mesa is my medicine bundle... a woven cloth containing the stones I've worked with as I progress on my studies and which I use in healings. Only one is a crystal; most are common rocks I've found and thought interesting and connected to, and developed a relationship during the self-healing process. I have three for each direction (none yet for the East, as I'm still working on my North process), a pi stone that looks like a donut that was used to give me the Munay Ki rites and transmissions, a lineage stone from Peru's Asangate mountain with the blood of my teacher on it, and a heart-shaped stone that technically isn't in my mesa but which I plan to use for my East.

I picked this stone up up on the beach near San Simeon after Julie and I performed a ritual of gratitude for the ocean (the sea  of mountains). The North work is one of ancestors... an the wisdom-keepers of the mountains (a mountain is called an "apu" in Q'echua). One of our homework assignments was to return home and give a despacho or ceremonial offering to come into right relationship with the mountains of our birthplace.  I was born in Folsom, which is in the Sierra foothills, but I've always felt more at home and have lived around oceans and large bodies of water my entire life (except for short spells that seemed too long... as even this six months in Salt Lake City has pushed to the surface my deep need to feel the energy of water).   So on our way to southern New Mexico, we detoured to the Pacific. 

The ceremony was beautiful. It's one of those ineffable feelings that falls flat when described, so I'll simply mention that we both felt very peaceful and complete as we buried our little offering bundle in the sands below the high-tide mark underneath a cliff.  Tiny flowers-- perhaps they were there before we began--bloomed on the hillside, uncomplaining of their tough life and so appreciative of the crash of the waves and the soft wind and spray.  We closed directions, alternating taking the lead in addressing our thanks and gratitude for this wonderful opportunity.  As soon as we stepped back, two beautiful heart-shaped rocks were by my feet. I felt immediately drawn to one; Julie to the other.

So this rock sits in my mesa. I feel it has the right, surrounded as it is by the aura and power of love.

One of the fellow questers had gifted me a deer-skin pouch that she had sewed from leather that Grandfather Bear Heart had given her and which he had tanned himself.  She decorated it with his icon... a bear claw with a heart in the middle.  It's really quite simply beautiful.

In this pouch I placed the lineage stone and I hung it around my neck as I walked around my circle. I decided to place all of the prayers I had into my prayer stick.  So I began with the eldest in my family, my 94-year old grandfather Ed, and went down the list of each family member, their partner, children, and pets. I prayed for each of my friends, my allyu (tribe), acquaintances, those I didn't know. I prayed for Bush and Cheney, other administration members and leaders of countries. Soldiers, civilians brutalized alike. I prayed for an end to war, hunger, poverty, hatred. I prayed for all beings... may they be happy, healthy, and safe from harm.

My prayers weren't so much for any boon, but simply an expression of my deep gratitude for the pleasure of their company, for the lessons, both difficult and beautiful, for the work they do, for their happiness and liberation.  Well, perhaps I did pray for a boon that our world leaders would source from their heart instead of fear.

I prayed and walked, walked and prayed, and the monotony and constancy of this praying dissolved the chill from the night, bloomed my heart, and gave me such a deep appreciation for where I was.

And then the visions began. 

Some were simple, some beautiful, but many were apocalyptic. All were detailed.

I won't describe what I saw-- I'm still processing them -- and I hope you won't mind too much that I'm leaving that out. I have to honor that feeling.

And honestly, I'm not sure what was inspired and what was a product of my over-active fiction writer's mind. I'm always coming up with book ideas and plot lines.  

I began to argue with the Creator, asked him to clear them out of my head. I want sweetness and beauty... to see my path clearly.  I don't want to be a warrior this life.  I've done that many lifetimes before.

I asked for a sign. I begged for confirmation.  I negotiated. I screamed, "I'm cooked! I'm cooked!"  And as soon as I said it, I knew that I was not cooked enough, that I still needed my time in the spiritual fire to truly learn deep surrender.  It isn't that I doubted Spirit; I doubted myself.

I sang a sweet song that came to me, offering my service and love.

And then a decision formed in my throat and I spoke it aloud with more conviction that I had ever in my life.

Was I threatening or challenging Spirit?  I'd look at that more closely as the day went on.

And then this phrase came into my mind:

Oh, this was to be a long day.