So, I hiked up Bell Rock in Sedona, a site said to be a Vortex, a place where the earth’s energy is magnified, and felt more strongly. And the thing is…I felt it. It was very real, very powerful. As I came up a sharp incline in the trail, and emerged onto a large flat section, the vista that fell out before me, almost all the way around me, brought actual tears to my eyes. It was that potent. I know photos can’t possibly do it justice, but I snapped and snapped, (as soon as I could breathe again.) And then I sat on a flat ledge and meditated for a few minutes.
The energy stayed with me, though, long after I left. It had done the same the last time I was there. In fact, after my first visit to Sedona several years ago, I returned home so impacted by it that I chose all the colors in my home, when we rebuilt after the fire, to reflect the colors of those mountains. I bought photos of the red rocks, big framed ones, and put them on my walls. I stenciled the petroglyphs I’d seen from the sacred sites in the borders. That’s how deeply it got to me.
When I returned for this, my second visit, as soon as we came around the bend in the road and those gorgeous rock formations came into view, I felt a feeling of…familiarity. A bond with the place. Like it was saying, Welcome back, we’ve been missing you! Honestly, it felt like that. So I spent more time, this time around, and when I came home, in my dreams, I was back on that rock, in the Vortex, and everything else was swirling around me, the more ordinary dreams that is, just swirling on the periphery. There I was, in the center, calm, grounded, empowered, on my big red rock. All the “I should do this that and the other thing,” and my dream of speaking to President Obama, and all the rest, were just swirling around outside me. I was centered.
On the plane from Phoenix to Philly, we hit terrible storms. The plane was bucking and shaking as if it would crash, and I had a moment of, I might not make it home at all. But then I found my center, my calm. I reminded myself that time is an illusion, and said, “I’m already home.” I took my focus off of the fear of dying, the plane’s acrobatics, the storm, and imagined walking into my home, Serenity, feeling Lance’s arms close around me, hearing and seeing the dogs running to greet me, and I fell into the vision, and I guess, into sleep, because when I opened my eyes again we were in perfectly calm skies, and making our descent into Philadelphia. My seat mate said it had been very bad, very bad, very bad, and that I’d slept through it. I don’t think I did. I think I teleported out of it. And I’m not sure if I had the know-how to do that before my time on Bell Rock. But I know for sure I couldn’t have gone to sleep in the middle of all that. I just sort of…stepped out of it, into something nicer, shifting my focus toward where I wanted to be, and coming back to myself four hours closer to there, all in what felt like ten minutes or so.
And once I did get home, and those arms did close around me, it felt as if the time between that flight, and that moment, did not exist.
If you have no memory of something, then did it really happen?
I have one more part to post about Sedona; my newly developing theory about what makes the energy there so potent. But that’s going to have to wait for another day. Until then, what do YOU think makes an energy vortex, a place of power, feel so powerful?
(Scroll down for Sedona, Part 1)