I recently traveled to Arizona with my family. We started at the south rim of the Grand Canyon and made our way down into the rocky red cliffs of Sedona, Arizona. It was a wonderful trip and I feel so grateful for this awe inducing experience with my family.
There are many reasons I enjoy traveling. Some are obvious, such as seeing new places and experiencing new things. While I love the new experiences, it is often the people I revere most. I cherish the time with whom I’m traveling as well as meeting people and making new connections along the way. I appreciate learning different perspectives and ways of life, even within my own country.
When traveling as a family my partner and I always give ourselves the gift of some alone time along the way. When our children were little, this time was often expansive due to their naps, short stamina, and earlier bedtimes. This trip did not warrant a whole lot of solo time because our children are now older and on board for ALL the adventuring. I love this stage with them and it forced me to choose my solo time wisely.
Hiking to Boynton Canyon is what I chose for my time solo in Sedona. I set out on the seven mile jaunt a little later than expected with a headache but felt called to proceed nonetheless. I hiked to the top of this expansive canyon and my breath was taken away by the majestic beauty as well as a small dose of fear in how close (and steep) the edge was. I sat up there for quite a while and took it all in.
On my way back down I found myself more in my heart and less in my head compared to the way up. I felt so grounded, so good, and so thankful. I was almost to the end of the trail and remembered there was a short add on path to a vista so I decided to check it out.
As I proceeded forward on the vista trail I heard a sound I have deep affection for - a wooden flute. I thought “What in the world? You’ve got to be kidding….keep going!” By the time I reached the top I could vaguely see the gentlemen who was playing the wooden flute. He was on top of a very steep, small precipice. I sat down, held a heart rock I found and I listened. I took it all in - the breeze, the sound of the flute, the rocks beneath me, the heart rock in my hand - every single bit of it.
After about 15 minutes or so I could hear a man guiding someone down off the top of the butte. I listened to the gentle confident voice guiding someone (literally) off the cliff and thought “this has to be the voice of the man who was playing the flute.” A few minutes later I felt a tap on my shoulder and it was this same voice asking me a question: “Have I gifted you yet?” My response was something along the lines of “If you were the one playing the wooden flute, you most certainly have.” He then handed me a heart rock and told me he was there to remind me to move from my head to my heart and the fear (residing in our minds) only gets in the way of what we know to be most true, which lives in our hearts. He literally reflected back to me what I tell myself and others every single day of my life. He also handed me a heart rock and said “keep doing what you do.” Y’ALL. This was not a dream, this happened to me AND for me.
I gave my new friend, Robert, the heart rock I found earlier on the trail and we walked back down from the vortex together. Yes, I learned on the way down I had been sitting right on top of a place where two energetic vortexes meet - one masculine and one feminine - say WHAT? No wonder I felt like the entire experience was out of body.
I loved my journey back down the trail with my new friend and sage, Robert. It was chock full of so much wisdom I bottled it all up - in my heart. My old patterning would have been to take copious notes. Not any more. It is all in my heart and will remain there forever. I even have the red rock heart from Robert as a remembrance of his beautiful and simplistic wisdom: head to heart.
Once again, my favorite takeaways from the trip were the people. I loved the time with my family and the incredible fun, challenges, and memories we gathered on our journey, as well as Robert, the wise sage I met along the way.
xx,
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