Utah, mid September:

I arrived at Capitol Reef National Park around sunset--what a place!!! The Stone People there are the most amazing colors and textures, so many layers of them, each layer representing millions of years of a particular phase on the planet (the bottom of a sea, sand-dunes, stream-beds, lagoons), then the earth folded into a strange warp (the "waterpocket fold") and lifted it all up and then another 100 million years and the rains and streams have eroded and exposed it all.

I ended up spending all of my time in Utah either at Capitol Reef (where I spent my second night with my backpack in an area where there were some magical petroglyphs) and in the nearby Escalante areas. Didn't make it to Zion or Bryce. I could easily spend another month or two in that part of Utah--so many incredible sites to see and canyons to hike. I spent 4 nights in the back-country of Harris Wash, a stream that drains into the Escalante River, embraced by incredible red stone cliffs that have been eroded into alcoves and amphitheatres and eyes, yawning mouths and yoni's. I've been playing my wooden flute (recorder) and singing ALOT in these canyons as I've been blessed to be all by myself for the most part (except for all the wild creatures of course, all of which have been friendly and welcoming). The echos and resonance are incredible--I feel the stones are singing with me!

September 16th: My little campfire is nearly embers and the night is black and sweet around me; crickets and other frequency insects, the sweet stream song, a little rustling in the leaves keep me company. It is new moon and I embark on another period of deep soltitude and seclusion in the back country to acknowledge the new moon, my birthday and this year of conscious growth that I am undertaking with the 13 Clan Mothers’ teachings, all to culminate on my 52nd birthday, which in some Native traditions, is when a woman reaches full maturity.

Big insights this morning: I was culturally educated to be in my head/thoughts as a means of survival, rather than being trained to be in awareness of my immediate here/now environment in nature (which is the way animals and people dependent on the earth for food, fuel and protections are.) During this journey, I hope to break this overly-mental way of being, so that here/now experience is more my paradigm of living. My survival in modern America requires I pay attention to past and future. So I need to learn balance, but first, I must learn to be be IN my body, senses, in nature in an open, alert awareness. The simplicity of these days outdoors helps.

The “thought” that I am a lonely motherless child with virtually no family, all by myself and nobody cares—this thought creates a terrible suffering in me. It denies the reality of my interconnection with all in my world, both near and far. This trip is confronting me with that small ego-bound voice in me. Her only antidote is here/now awareness and presence, whether that be by listening or looking or tone-ing or doing zazen or yoga—whatever it takes! During week 2, Miss Lonely Hearts is UP nearly every day. It is an ongoing PRACTICE to work with her. I am engaged.

My birthday, September 18th: Mid-morning and I have been up since dawn. I have had an amazing and powerful prayer time on this birthday morning on a red rock dome ledge overlooking the creek and looking down the canyon at a red rock yoni in the sculpted canyon walls. I threw my voice into the stone walls, doing a morning/birthday prayer son, listening to my echo returning the song to me. Then I got inspired to spin a song in this canyon to send out to the world as a healing for those who are in grief because of the September 11th events. So I sang the grieving chant I learned from Sobonfu, visualizing it spiraling around the canyon walls, then rising up and rippling out to the world. Blessed be Thérèse Yakshi on her birthday with Raven, cottonwood, canyon walls and little stream as my good companions!

Sept 19th: I had more melt-down this afternoon, more fear and smallness/loneliness gripping my heart chakra, more weeping and releasing. A part of me knows I’ve just got to go through this phase and yes, it will pass. Tears in the river, tears under the cottonwoods, tears as I walked up the stream in the canyon. Miss Lonely Hearts and scaredy-girl both need intensive care-taking and reassurance as Ms. Adventuress gets farther and deeper “out there” away from my protections, distractions and social support. A dream last night made me realize I need to get whole-heartedly attentive to the child in me.
(Click the picture to see a bigger version of this painting from my journal, which says: "All night long I slept cradled by the Stone People's embrace, the little stream singing a lullaby, the trees bathing me in green, healing protection, the sun's warmth held in the stones.")

Its nearly dark now and the chorus of insects around me, echoing through the steep canyon, is rich! The stream’s little voice is also magnified. I walked in the stream, in the deep and high alcove hollowed out by erosion, singing and playing my flute. Very magical and I was blessed by the echoes and resonance and the Stone People who received my song gratefully. I hear rustling in the woods nearby. No doubt creatures are close at hand. I hope they feel my friendly, honoring presence. Today as I walked a path near where I selpt I saw big fresh paw marks. I suspect a mountain lion, but maybe coyote. I’ve not put the tent up. Skeeters are gone now that its cooling and no big daddy long legged spiders like there was last night. Just nutsy little moths rushing into my head-lamp. I am vulnerable and in trust that I am in harmony with the creatures here, large and small. Blessed be.