Remember - a message from the Swell

Thursday 7/1

I have had enough of the bugs and heat. The big cottonwood tree at the entrance to my haven has a large branch I believe will be more shaded than my current spot. Further from the creek there should also be less pests wanting dinner from my skin. I gather my pillow and the blue fabric of my cocoon and begin the trek up the road. Under the brim of my sun hat I see them: intruders.

A couple of 4-wheelers lurk unwelcomed around my spot. I am not interested in interacting with human creatures and veer right toward the creek. They must find the appearance of a strange, elusive creature carrying yards of blue fabric around the desert rather puzzling.

A big tree with a thick low branch draws me in. As I walk closer to hang the cocoon a long beautiful silvery snake extends his head then ducks away, more threatening when invisible. I keep walking.

Finally, I find a spot on the ground to rest in the shade. As I extend my limbs, my torso becomes heavy on the earth and I feel the warm support of her holding. Wind brushes over me on her way down canyon, a light caress. Drawing my left hand to my heart I feel the steady rhythm of my pulse while my right searches for the same in the earth. “You have to start with the surface,” she says. I try to push it. No luck. I give in to her, she has more practice and eventually wins. I want to be invited in so I follow. With each breath I explore a new dimension. Lizards scurrying around dry leaves and wind blowing through the brush fade into the heat of the day, still soaring in the shade. The gurgle of the creek grows more palpable as I feel the ridges of dirt on my skin. Breathing, resting deeper I find a cool layer of earth underneath – dark and quiet. Peace envelops my heart as I feel the fluids roam their trails. Traveling deeper, in the stillness of that depth I find it: the same rhythmic pulsing as my own heart beat. In unison with mine! "Remember,” she whispers, “you are home. Remember.” I imagine all the oils to be a part of the lubricating pulse, “remember.”

Clarity = Results

This equation resonates DEEP in my experience. The more I know myself (an intimate form of clarity), the more this is true. My burning transformative journey was amped up last summer on my desert sabbatical and the results have been stellar!

The San Rafael Swell, known locally as the Swell holds a truly special place in my heart for holding and transforming me last summer. It is one of the most magical places on this crazy cool planet and the energy will knock your socks off! Last autumn Earth Energy Resources was granted rights to do shale extraction on the land. Gasp!

During my fall break-up I camped on the land again over Halloween - my equivalent of "going home for dinner" to find nourishment and comfort. I set up camp in the dark. My dreams were vibrant and piercing. Equipment, noise, destruction. In the light I saw I had camped by a small airplane and recognized I was an intrusion. I knew I must move quickly and get out of the way. Across the valley I saw a huge operation of earth moving equipment working away and my heart sank. Tears welled through my heart, seeping out of my skin, tearing me open. Trashing, I yelled "no, no, no" until I truly woke up sobbing and shocked. I peaked out of the tent and saw the soft glow of gentle morning light welcoming life in the Swell. She and I have an intimate connection.

I dream of facilitating a conversation with the land via a leadership development retreat involving yoga, meditation, stories under the stars, mountain guides and herbal explorations. The impact of my first run using movement as a leadership catalyst had impact. This event would be earth-shattering healing. My favorite herbalist shared a story where a pharma company gathered plants for medicine in their normal way while medicine men/women extracted them using their traditional ways (ethically, honoring and appreciating the plants). Not surprisingly the chemical constituents from the medicine way were stronger. Intuitively I feel it would be the same results extracting energy resources from the land. She is here to support us. If we learn to live synergistic-ally with her - Powah!

I have guides and teachers on board. I can get connections to celebrity storytellers. I lack a key piece: the leaders of Earth Energy Resources - for now. Working my network I have been developing contacts in the energy industry. It is a long, slow process.

This week I threw my name in the hat for a mini-coaching jam with one of my professional crushes. Defining what I am doing and needing brought clarity.

Yep, Clarity = Results.

Result = The Full Circle Group and a promised introduction by a dear friend who has done a lot of work with them. Cha-Ching. They are the missing piece of my tribe - passion, awareness and well-developed relationships built over years of rockin' results... and experience with the energy industry.

Clarity = Results.

Why do Round People Live in Squares?

A design teacher I had in college explained that nature never makes a straight line. Because I learn experientially and want to Know for myself, I look for validation. After minutes, hours, days and weeks of exploration...

Confirmed. I have yet to find a straight line in the wild.

Last night Dan Schmidt brought this home again with talks of spiral built bones, spiral flow and multi-dimensional wonderlands. He mentioned an upcoming exciting new book by Theodore Roszak, "Change Your Body, Change the World." You think there might be a connection?

When I returned from my desert trek I was painfully aware of how inhumane this 'civilization' is. A colleague summed it up as "why do round people live in squares?" After spending weeks in intimate contact with the wild and free flow of nature, returning to fluorescent lights and blocked off walls felt constraining and unnatural. Civilization is so boxy and rigid, lacking the spark of uncontrollable wild.

Last year Bob and I spent Thanksgiving in Joshua Tree National Park for the Yogaslackers Redefining Balance retreat. Jason led us through an asana practice and had us move our mats to the side. He mentioned the obvious truth I had not recognized that most of the time we try to protect ourselves from the elements rather than engage them.

On the RideShare van to work another colleague mentioned that even those of us who play in nature quite often are usually insulated from her touch. If we do happen to touch nature it means something has gone terribly wrong, like we've wrecked on our bikes and our now a dirty pile of mud and blood.

With our health so intimately tied to nature: Engage!

Consciously, willingly and generously.

I find myself hungry for the real, the wild and the free. Movement gets me there, especially in nature. How do you get there?

Photolog - Overview

Overview of my journey in the desert - Most of the pictures are mine, a few are from Bob's camera. Other people you will see in the pictures besides me include Bob, our cats Calvin (the camping cat) and Priscilla, our buddy Jaime, his doggy Lily and our friends Luke and Stacy. Around the middle of the trip Bob brought me fresh supplies and made sure I wasn't under a rock, bitten by a snake or in some other catastrophe. At the end Bob brought our buddy Jaime and his beautiful dog Lily down. After my trip we returned to the same area to climb with friends Luke and Stacy. The really rad music is Apocalyptica interpreting Metallica.

Enjoy:

Moving at the Speed of Elements

1st in the "Dancemeditation(TM) in the Wild" series

Time doesn't actually exist anywhere. We can't touch it or taste it or breathe it. Although we experience it passing, it is a fabrication. Time is a perception we live by in the human world.

Wilderness desert has her own time. What to us is a million years is nothing in desert time. Wind blows, water flows, plants grow and die, mountains erode, stars fall, and life ebs and flows in the depth without regard to being marked on a clock or calendar.

As I absorbed the beauty of the land formed by water and air and reflected on the drop that is a million years, I moved with the elements at their speed.


Air was chaotic and wild, a violent storm bringing life: seeds and the water to open and flourish them. My breath was forceful like dragon's fire. Fast and flinging, my limbs were separate and free. I shimmered like leaves in a gust. Directions changed on a whim and without warning. I was power and freedom embodied.


Water entered hypnotic flow. Curvilinear movements breathed into each other, connecting my awareness to my body - one liquid in a unifying membrane. Arms led the way, opening space for my torso to curve into the space created. My hips, always eager for their turn, widened the bend and my legs waved like s l o w tadpoles following the stream.


Earth brought me into glacially slow, a Dancemeditation practice I first learned at a workshop in Santa Fe. It could take an hour to stand up and turn around. Once in the space, an incredibly deepening practice. A witness of me in the workshop commented that it didn't look like I was moving at all, yet when she looked back at me I had shifted. This is the desert at the land's pace and she appreciated me slowing down to witness her.


Fire lives in me, electric transformation at work. Yet this element I couldn't quite get in movement. I tried explosive and it felt fake. I worked with waves of fire and it felt like flow. As I write this I realize the glow of the sun, the dimensionality aspect of the Diamond Approach 5 Movements practice is how I express fire. She and I are one, I only need sense to embody her, which I do in each interaction with God's creatures. This is what allows transformation to occur where I am the catalyst.

The Last Thursday

Near the end of my retreat I started coming out of contraction. In Dancemeditation the practitioner goes through stages of contraction and expansion, the deep work happens in contraction allowing the open space to occur in expansion. As I emerged from contraction I started turning my focus to what needs to be done when I get home, who I need to connect with... life outside of my Swell retreat bubble. I feel like it has been a good retreat. I know myself better, feel more self-reliant and self-confident. I have had some incredible meditations and great insight, seen a lot of cool things, been able to be calm in scary situations (snakes, spiders...), and have enjoyed the time by myself. Reviewing the last couple of weeks and thinking of wrapping up I feel like it has been a really mellow retreat all in all - nothing crazy, no standard Swell epics. My only regret is I haven't been able to pet a cat (mountain lions roam this area). Considering a big cat could easily eat me for dinner this probably isn't such a bad thing. I see Cat Canyon on the map and figure that a place by the name of Cat Canyon would be a good place to see cats.

My hunt for the elusive Cat Canyon takes two days. On the first day I drive to an old mining area and scramble up near the top of the canyon. I expected to walk a good bit more before getting into the hiking as a lot of the road I took showed unimproved on the map. Unimproved roads in the Swell usually mean impassable in anything but a high clearance 4WD. My 2WD space pod sports car is not the recommended mode of transport for this land. I am surprised that I can drive to the cabins which opens up a world of possibility for travel. Scrambling I get up just above the level of the mines. It looks like if I traverse I can possibly go higher or I can get shut down. I have already made some scary moves I am not looking forward to reversing and it looks like more of the same with greater exposure with the potential of a worse cliff on the other side before descending into the canyon on the other side. Reversing my hike I traverse farther out to see if I can avoid some of the scarier scrambling and find most of it is worse. I slowly make my way back to the car. In my rush to see kitty cats I consider just driving out to the freeway and trying my second option without going back to camp to change my note so Bob can find me if I don't come back to camp for some reason. Luckily good sense prevails and I head back to camp, calling it a night.



The next day (Thursday) I head out again, driving the 30 miles out of the Swell to the freeway. As I merge with traffic I feel myself shift gears inside to match the pace of the descendants of industrial age machines that have replaced solid earth as my companions. I drive several miles down the freeway and re-enter the Swell farther West. As I drive deeper into the desert I see no other vehicle tracks and no recent signs of human activity. Early I came upon a wash that was sketchy so I turned back and went the other way. This brought me into a pretty good wash that I was able to navigate fairly easily most of the way at a maximum speed of 20 mph (although I realized if there was a flash flood I was heading the wrong direction with no ability to turn around and would be in trouble). Along this wash I saw a dead cow and took it as a sign there were cats nearby. Although the cats would have eaten it and not left so much waste, I was on a mission to see them so interpreted unlikely things as signs. Shortly after the cow I encountered a side road that looked like a good shortcut. After .3 miles it suddenly turned into a washed out rutted path and I thought I was stuck. Fortunately Alexa (my car) and I have a good relationship so she pulled through for me even though I had gotten us into this mess. I made a cautious sketch turn to back out of that area and got back to the wash. Now I am on edge instead of just uneasy as I continue down the wash. Soon I gain elevation and get great views of the (La Sal?) mountains to the west and a canyon that looks like a likely cat hangout. At the highest point in the road I notice there is a nice turn around section and think "I should just turn around here and head back, it's late in the afternoon."



Instead, I head down into the next section. The road is steep with a cliff on one side. I have a strong presentimiento as I shift into 1st gear to descend. At the bottom of the road is the sign below. I am 70 miles from the nearest town, 13.3 miles from I-70, no cell service for many miles and no signs of other human life in the Swell for days - REMOTE! I think to myself, "this could be bad" as I head into slippery, slidy, get dug in and stuck sand. My car slides across the road and I know I need to turn around quickly before I get into deeper trouble. I find a spot that feels almost stable, do a quick turn and head back out of the wash. I am definitely freaked out now and remind myself of the basic sand and mud rule - keep going. I feeling pretty good about heading out and feel like I narrowly avoided a disaster.



My car starts to slide, I feel it jerk followed by an unnerving banging/bouncing sound/sensation. I panic and do the one thing I shouldn't do which is stop the car. I managed to get the front wheels dug in as deep as the underbelly.



After assessing the situation I get back in the car and try backing out turning the wheels and just spin in deeper.



So I start digging out sand and building a rock bridge. I'm glad I learned the skill I hope to never use again when Bob and I tried to feed his 4-wheel drive Subaru to the Black Dragon Wash 6-weeks or so before on that ill-fated scouting trip.



I think "this is Thursday night, help will come Saturday" - hopefully Bob can find my note and I took the roads I said I'd take so it will be easy for him to find me. Surveying my situation I realize I have 5 gallons of water in the trunk, glad I kept it there instead of taking it out at camp. Random food will sustain me and I can sleep in the car if needed. Looking around I see limited shade opportunities to escape the punishing sun in the heat of the day. I think about blowing my whistle for help, but since there had been no other signs of human activity or tracks on my ride in I felt like it would only add to my sense of desolation.



Situation assessed I drink some water, chew a little osha root (very helpful) and kept digging and gathering rocks for bridges. It was slow moving, but it was moving.


Encouraged to see progress, in the midst of digging I laughed to myself, "this is still better than work."



Warm sand feels soothing in my hands and along my arms. I have been dirty for days so didn't mind digging in, resting my belly on the warm floor to reach under the car. Rhythmic repeated motion became a meditation. After a few bridges I was able to re-use the rocks and extend each bridge farther.



I notice a harder packed area to the passenger side and think if I could get my wheel there I'll be set. After about 60-90 minutes, fortunately in the cooler part of the day, I finally build the last bridge. The car drives over it, onto the hard pack, up and out of the wash to a big Woot!



My heart pounds quickly with joy and relief, a happy high!





























I did want to test my self-reliance and passed with flying colors even with the presentimiento as I was driving down into that canyon. I had less than half a tank of fuel and used that as the excuse to drive to Green River to feed Alexa and myself. It was time for a burger!

Spa Day in the Swell

How do you create luxurious pampering in a harsh, remote environment? Spa day! Yes, it is possible even all alone, with limited resources, deep in the heart of the San Rafael Swell. I had flowing water, a rich creamy lotion (completely out of place with most of my other gear) and my resourcefulness.

During my time in the Swell I frequented the creek, mostly to ward of sunstroke. When the fiery imagery reminiscent of my heat hallucinations in Costa Rica arose in meditations I knew it was time to soothe fire with water. Usually I climbed into the knee deep creek fully clothed and submerged myself to keep the coolness alive on my skin longer.

After some rough nights and even rougher days I felt it was time for some pampering, hence Spa Day and laundry day. The reason for laundry day was in the interest of simplicity I packed two pairs of pants and three shirts plus fuzzy pants and a sweater for sleeping (and a pair of clean socks and underwear, no bras – yay, for each day). Clearly, everything was filthy. Beyond the requisite desert dust there were tea and food remains, the perma-stench from sweating profusely into the same clothes in the 100+ degree heat day after day, soot rubbing off my cooking pot, random small insects, and unrecognizable particulate matter from whatever floats in the muddy creek: icky (yet heavenly in its own way).

Spa day wasn’t the typical dip and run visit but a nice soak and scrub from head to toe. Despite the obvious dubious benefits of bathing in something called “Muddy Creek” I stripped down at ‘the beach’ and got in, enjoying squishing my toes through the mud while I encouraged my body to slide into the cool water, cringing at the shocking temperature difference. I found rocks to hold my clothes steady so they could wash in the current while I leisurely rolled myself around in the creek, enjoying the cool wash. A light cloud cover rolled in – water letting me know she had my back. I submerged myself completely several times and took my time enjoying all the sights, sounds and sensations along the creek. A beetle came chirping scared down the creek as he had fallen in and I splashed him to the shore. I noticed how nice it felt to help another creature along and contrasted the feeling with the earlier glee of killing a fly that had bitten me. Where along the compassion to self-defense continuum do creatures fall?

As I submerged myself I remembered my childhood baptism at the age of 8 where all parts of person including clothing had to be submerged. Because I had long ago traded in my family’s religion for seeking my truth I decided to repeat my own version of baptism “by the authority granted to me by myself and the San Rafael Swell” washing away the superfluous parts of years past into the cool desert stream. I felt clean, refreshed and renewed.

When I got out of my bath I massaged the ridiculously rich lotion into my skin, especially my feet which I then covered in socks to keep them from collecting even more insane amounts of dirt. I scrubbed my face with herbal wet-wipes and did some minor cuticle maintenance. All in all the best spa day I’ve had in a while. I spent the rest of the luxurious evening wandering wrapped in a light wrap enjoying the cool-ish air as the cloud cover remained until the bugs came out at dusk.

Transitioning Back to Society

Today was my first day back at work after 5 1/2 weeks in meditation/adventure/personal land. All in all it was a gentle roll back into the rhythm of 'work at a desk' life. Full blooms of tangerine colored roses brought the pleasure of scent with the beautiful reminder of the richest colors of the desert into my space.

The afternoon included a nice walk by the Swaner Eco Center. I enjoyed the birds calling and the long grasses waving in the the slow wind, a reminder of listening to the approaching wind through the canyon in the Swell. Dry wind, the faint smell of desert, a small squirrel and a single yellow sweet clover brought me into the depths of feeling at home. I LOVE Summer.

Conversations were interesting and lively as always. Thanks to the indescribably wonderful people of Backcountry I didn't even have to rely on chocolate, my everlasting friend, to make it through the day!

Photolog - Highlights

Wow, home already? I have spent a week re-integrating with society - rough. So far fuel and groceries felt disorienting, dizzy and I had to split ASAP. I've been hiding out at home with the cats putzing around. Getting out for some climbing and mountain biking to ease the transition. The Wasatch Mountains I call home aren't the Swell though they are another of nature's marvelous beauty and a 'helluva' lot better than fluorescent lights.

Notes on this photolog:

1) Starts with the preparation (aprox. 72 days) and the blue hair highlights and continues through the two weeks in the Swell (San Rafael Swell, southern Utah). There will most likely be some post-trip pictures included in the future. Since I did some drastic things with my hair thought it would be nice to show the transformation. Also interesting to note is how bright blue my eyes become through long periods in meditation. I included some photos of my time at retreat "setting the stage" where Nisaa buzzed my hair, traveling from New York and events of the few days at home between trips including a friend's wedding at Snowbird (where there was still snow on the ground in spots - trippy before heading out into 100+ degrees a few hours away).

2) I took most of the pictures. Exceptions: "no services for 100 miles" (challenging to make out what it says at that size) came from americansouthwest.net to show the remoteness of the area (didn't want to stop for the picture when I drove in); July 4th weekend Bob came down with water, veggies and to check on me. The final days he brought our buddy Jaime with his beautiful dog Lily to help him build a route, some pictures during these times are Bob's.

3) The first few days were brutal as you can see in the pictures, beastly hot with bugs worse than the heat (you'll see some pictures showing my grumpiness at their presence). Even Kate's fabulous Protection Spray couldn't keep the particularly fierce gnats and biting flies away. Bob tried three different bug sprays while he was there and still got eaten alive. The white/pink on my lips in some pictures is the only lip sunscreen I've ever found to work like a charm: Burt's Bees Sun & Snow (worth the funky look).

4) There are a few scenery pictures showing blessed storms brewing, dropping the temperature anywhere from 10-15 degrees (often it was 95 degrees in the shade and I spent a lot of time just waiting for the sun to set). The temperature range I recorded was from 115 degrees to 50 degrees. I saw two readings of 124 degrees and 144 degrees respectively though I don't trust those as my altimeter watch/thermometer was in the direct sun on a reflective surface (although 124 is not out of the realm of possibility). I am pretty sure it was colder than 50 degrees some nights, though I just curled deeper into my down sleeping bag instead of checking. There was a lot of variation in the nighttime temperature. Some nights I slept nearly naked, others even bundled up I was freezing. One night my toes were so cold I had to get in the car to warm up.

The next full photolog will be a more complete story showing some of my desert friends on the journey and the requisite Swell experience of fine to fucked in a matter of seconds. Stay tuned!

Water Blessings

Our prayers for water were answered! There were a couple of great storms. Even with more thundering and rumbling than rain, the dense cloud cover brought the temperatures down to a manageable range.

Thank you everyone for the cool watery thoughts, prayers, blessings and support!

the journey so far

Offering Acceptance to the Elements

In "The Rock Warrior's Way" by Arno Ilgner, who teaches rock climbers to manage fear, he suggests accepting consequences as a crucial part of the process. His practical advice is to observe the climb, climber and consequence of a fall before moving. If you don't accept the consequence, don't climb; if you do accept the consequence climb fearlessly. By accepting consequence there is no need for fear. In the spirit of a rock warrior it felt important to accept what I may face in the desert. Early in my approximately 72 days of preparation I accepted the possibility of death. I imagine death as the ultimate peace, the best sleep ever - forever, the deep Sufi state of Fanā - annihilation or complete passage into the cool dark silence of Truth. That one is easy, my deepest longing. To remind me to come home alive (part of the desert survival toolkit is the will to live) my dear Sufi sister Gayla got me a pin to take into the desert on my sun hat "to remember I am loved." At the Summer Movement Monastery over the space of two days I reviewed other things I may face and offered my acceptance of them to the elements. During the first week we had a session to paint veils and work at our own pace. I wrote the reasons for my quest; my prayer for guidance, protection, space and truth; and my acceptance. As I wrote each item ranging from discomfort to tests of my commitment to personal growth, I sat with them until I accepted their possibly in body and heart. Injury was by far the hardest one. In May 2003 Aron Ralston had to amputate his arm to survive a boulder which fell on him while canyoneering in Southern Utah. Having to face a similar decision or life with a permanent handicap is infinitely more terrifying than death. To accept injury it finally came to, "I accept what I have to work with, even if that is how to I find freedom while feeling trapped." Early in the retreat several of us visited the waterfall near the old Mansion we called home for two weeks. Beautiful prayers were offered by Anastasia for clean water to accompany my journey and for the water going to the oil spill in the Gulf. Later in the retreat during break time I returned to the stream farther down from the waterfall to offer my acceptance to the elements and invite them on my journey. My tender feet negotiated the sharp, slippery rocks. Even with gingerly steps I sometimes stumbled, catching myself before landing in a splash. I made my way upstream to stand in the center of the cool water which wrapped around my calves. I spoke to each of the elements as friends and knowing there will be an abundance of earth, sun and wind I re-iterated a special invitation to water. I read my desires and acceptance out loud, offering them from my soul. As I finished we heard fireworks in the distance and I laughed, "let the games begin."

A Seed is Planted, a Dream Unfolds

A warm breath of tea floats through our conversations. A dozen or more dancers are gathered on the Persian rugs in Dunya's apartment for evening dinner during our intensive training. Warming soup and loving talk thaw New York City's chilled November air. I overhear Dunya's voice articulate a tradition. The Teacher invites a student to take apples, dates and walnuts for forty days into an apartment in the city for practice and study in seclusion. During this time there is no contact with the outside world, though watchers will stop by to leave a warm bowl of soup at the door or check that the student hasn't lost it. This special retreat is a time of deep learning and personal growth.

As an off-the-charts introvert living in a world crowded by extroverts, the idea instantly appeals to me. The gears in my head start turning, planning my own version. I consider retreating to my yoga room, sneaking out to the nearby bathroom only when other house inhabitants are gone or sleeping. I wonder about structure, respect of space and quiet. I know there will be unwanted noise and interruptions at home. The gears keep turning, the months roll by.

Can I take that much time off work? It would take about nine weeks. A nugget of Dunya's wisdom is the reintroduction of the object of fasting, taking half of the fasting time to re-enter a normal pace. Breaking a long food fast with a huge steak dinner, rich sauces and vats of wine 'might' be jarring to the system. A technology fast from silence to the speed of eCommerce could be dizzying. Returning from a fast is a practice in itself of conscious awareness, respect for the journey and practitioner. Forty days of silence and solitude, twenty days of inviting limited interactions to grow to a normal pace, sixty days - at least.

As I ponder, I hear the desert call to me, inviting me home. Extreme boredom and discontent become the standard at work. As added fuel, Kate's Moonday experiment transforms the drudgery of Monday and gives voice to my creative fire. I love the community of friends I have at work and feel at home. I love spending my days with down-to-earth, smart and active people. I have found priceless allies in life's journey. I know how precious and rare it is to find this combination en masse. On the other hand, few of my actual skills and talents are used. I am bored and no longer challenged. I could train my cat to do my job and project an avatar of me above his head. No one would know. I am not living my potential. I have a comfortable life that requires very little effort on my part. I have become complacent. Do I stay or do I go? My heart's stirring can't be ignored. I must go.

During an especially frustrating weekly meeting I decide to quit my job before my birthday and work at a floral shop surrounded by beauty, using my hands to contribute to beauty in this world. I find a florist who caters to corporate clients so I can make connections to bridge the worlds of Dancemeditation and commerce. I imagine great womanly chats of business strategy, life and men while clipping stems and arranging flowers, soft music in the background embracing us as we work. I am very excited but my time at Backcountry isn't over yet. I feel it in my flesh. I know there is still more for me on my journey here so I opt for an Unpaid Adventure Leave of Absence which is even more fun because my Backcountry friends get to be a part of the adventure as well. As I share my plans with people I am honored they understand the spiritual quest as much as the adventure. I am rich with insights, advice and support.

In site selection Kate suggests a dream pillow with our friend Artemisia and Lavender. Through a beautiful and clear message she guides me to the San Rafael Swell, a beautiful and magical desert in Utah that will be my home for a brief though essential moment in time. It is a few hour's drive from where I live in Salt Lake City; close enough for my boyfriend to stop in over the weekend to make sure I haven't died or lost my mind; far enough out of traveler's way I can find the solitude I seek.

Alone in the harsh desert for forty days/six weeks is an ambitious goal so I start with a test run of two weeks for a total adventure of five and a half weeks. I will set the stage at the Summer Movement Monastery for two weeks, followed by two weeks of soul-searching on sun baked earth and a week of re-integration.

I am deeply in the purification stage, a snake shedding her skin. Old photos, old letters, old music to the trash. New space in my life. Old beliefs, old limitations burned in the fire of transformation to stand with me in the Here/Now honoring my path.

I take two questions to the desert: 1) what is my place in this world? 2) how do I stay true to myself? As they percolate my experience I know that valuing myself must come before being true to myself, which is a precursor to taking my place in this world. Self-rejection comes up strong, a flavor of self-hatred only slipperier. In my child mind this seems the only way to survive. Here/Now it keeps me alive yet trapped in a world of my own making with which I'm not entirely thrilled. A ferocious transformational Goddess roars within me, the rebel breaking bonds, the Seeker searching for Truth and Pleasure in my Soul. Bring it!

Answering the Desert's Call

The desert calls to me. She invites me into the wild womb of nature to Know myself, this world and my place in it. She asks me to come to my edge. In her harsh extremes she encourages me to explore mine. With her subtle beauty she implores me to nourish mine. I answer her call seeking solitude, insight and Truth. My heart opens to her warmth. It pleads for the sun's rays to permeate me, to burn away the veils, to open the door. My body yearns for the comforting embrace of the desert floor, to be held in the warmth of the earth mother, to know her love and to share mine.

I know that the work of retreat begins with the commitment to attend. In this retreat I feel particularly supported by both my Backcountry family and Sufi sisters. So far my primary allies include Van with his blessing and guidance on both physical and spiritual levels, Ceci with her resources for wilderness survival skills and insights, Bob with location scouting and gear selection, Kate with her herbal support for nourishment and guidance, the dogfunk van for their shared excitement and Ken's loan of "The Secret Knowledge of Water" to learn more about the essential resource in the desert, Brian with his help in clarifying goals and willingness to chop my locks for donation, my planning and buying teams for their enthusiasm and covering my duties while I am away. Another Sufi sister, Ann, will be at retreat in concert with me whirling with the Dervishes in Turkey. I am lucky to be so held in this process and pray this journey will be an inspiration to others who feel drawn in their own way.