INTO the DESERT - Part V of V

 Into the Desert 2018

carol p. vaccariello, dmin., lpc

storyteller

(BACK TO PART IV)

Eleven Large Stone-People

Raven made its rounds.  Every day, more than once, black wings would pierce the clear, bright, blue sky. Always two. A Messenger. A lesson. A call.  One afternoon, seated in my tent for a moment’s relief from the wind, I heard a sound I thought was Luna panting.  The sound came close.  Looking up to the left, I saw black wings barely above my tent.  The sound was the powerful flap of black wings.  I wrote a chant about that moment:

refrain:            Raven, Mother

                        Watch you hover,

                        As you take to the sky.

Dipping, diving

                                    And contriving

                                    Teaching us to fly.

verse:              Antics in the air.

                        Children see you share.

                        Wings of power,

                        Black eyes shower

                        Love everywhere        repeat refrain:

+++

A full week of challenging outdoor and inner elements.  Eager for a warm bed in a dry room.  One of the men asked, “Would anyone like to share the cost of a room in town tonight?”

No hesitation.  Experienced the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage across Spain. Sometimes fifty men and women in one room of stacked beds.  I learned Spanish:  Reserva Uno Habitacion.   Dos Camas.  Reserve one room, two beds. 

There is only one motel in Tecopa.  A Running Marathon coming through. Concerned about availability. Pretty, willowy, young woman behind the desk.  Confirmed my doubts.  Nothing available in town.  Media crew booked all the rooms. 

She saw our desperate glances. Looked through me.  Asked a strange question, “Are you a healer?”  I hesitated, “Yes, I am a healer.” Wondered at the question.  First time I had ever seen her.  Curiosity tugged. 

“A guest requested a healer.  Would you agree to meet with him?” I agreed.

A question hung in the pause, “What do you need for the night?” 

We explained.  Emerging from a Spiritual Desert Experience. Needed one space with two beds.  Simple and meager.   

March 17^th, Saint Patrick’s Day. Her boyfriend was in town for a party. She would be staying with him tonight.  “Would you like to use my place?  I live in an old yellow school bus in the RV section. I can ask the owner if it is all right with him and the fee for you to use it.  I get to use the bus as part of my wages.  The RV section is a different fee than the private rooms.” 

She brought in, Guacamole and chips.  Freshly made today. We waited.  Amazed and overwhelmed by her offer.  Total strangers.  Opening her private personal space.  She returned to the desk. All set. 

“Don’t arrive before 8:00 p.m.  Showers and toilet facilities are in the Hot Pool House.  Here are keys.  Be out by 10:00 a.m.  Fee $25 each.”

+++

Our last dinner.  They wanted to sit outside, of course.  I was so cold.  The wind simply would not give up.  The owner came out.  Offered me a place inside. Protected from harsh chill factor.  No way would I leave the guys.  This was our final meal together.  We were a pack.  One of the pack walked away. Returned with a large quilt.  Told me to stand. Wrapped me in it.  Oh, what a relief.  Warmth! 

Sky watched me snuggle in the quilt.  Without warning, he was on my lap. Enfolding him in my quilted arms. A little boy in an adult man’s body, on Grandma’s knee. He enjoyed the warmth.  I enjoyed his warmth. His full weight on my lap.  Food arrived.  Time to eat.

+++

I claimed the bed in the back of the bus.  He got the couch in the front.  Worked out great.  Only a single light worked.  No power.  Used candles and flashlights.  Other pack members, including Luna, chose to sleep outdoors. Next to the bus.  Light from the RV lot.  Lots of Wind!

+++

An experience of pure delight.  I have had this experience before.  There is something that happens in one’s energy field after participating in an intense spiritual experience.  Others feel it. Sense something unique.  Drawn to this clean, purified energy. Yearn to be part of it.  Enveloped in it. Extraordinary Beauty.

+++

A perfect way to end our week together.  A place to sleep.  Hot Pools for relaxing. Continued high winds – challenging reminders of strengths we each need to continue to nurture.

+++

Saturated. Wind-blown. Raven’s Wings. Earth’s many gifts. Delighted, she shared, embraced and held.  Trusted us.  ………..Moved to tears and wonder at such giving.

+++

Two gifts. A million. A note on the table in the bus.  She was so delighted to have something to share with us.  To open her home.  To trust us with everything she had.  We received the gifts with tears and wonder at such self-less love.

+++

winged rhythm

can you hear it? 

quiet

shhhhh

…s i l e n c e…

raven croaks

(BACK TO PART I)

INTO the DESERT 2018 - Part IV of V

 Into the Desert 2018

carol p. vaccariello, dmin., lpc

storyteller

(BACK TO PART III)

After lunch, gas tanks full, we headed out of town. Along the road there were signs. Natural hot springs. We stopped. Enjoyed the deep heat of the pools. They were set back from the highway. A short walk on a sandy path. Others were there enjoying the soothing baths. The young men traveling with me were less than half my age. I wasn’t convinced. Was this a good idea? Concerned my presence would stifle their spontaneity. Projection, ya think? 

All four of the men, well educated, richly life experienced, had lived less than 35 years, while I grossed 72.5 years. 

I waited. They stripped off their clothes. Bodies quickly lowered to hot volcanic pools. The youngest, 25, had enough early morning hot pool. Alongside the pool, we watched and walked and talked. They played in the mud. Top of their heads, soles of their feet. Covered in mud. Sun dried. Cleansed in the dive. 

These 30 somethings morphed into ten-year olds. Frolicked, mud plastered each other. Their inner animals exploded. Ferocious roars of power and dominance. They danced, wrestled, rolled on the ground before diving back into the pool. Eyes sparkled. Delighted. Free, vibrant, connected with Earth’s primal energy. 

+++ 

The day’s light was vanishing. Base Camp here we come. Preparation was key to our journey. We needed daylight. There is no way to light up a desert when GrandMother Moon was close to dark. 

They air dried and dressed. We were on the road to Death Valley. In a short couple of hours caravanning to base camp, we found the unmarked turnoff near the 30, or was it 50 mile marker? Each needed to claim a space, pitch a tent, settle in for the opening Council Circle. Quickly we found our way around our newness and differences. Seeking the comfort of mutual space and place. We planned the rhythm of the week leaving ample opportunity for Spirit to move and challenge and stretch us. 

+++ 

All my life, I longed for an adventurous brother – now I have the promise of four young men. This moment may never present itself again. Of course, I would go. One week in the Wilderness. Seeing the stars in a totally dark sky, no moon, no artificial light, only stars. I desperately wanted to see that sight at least once in my life. Tonight, I am stretching my gaze into a brilliant Cosmos. It appears like a box of salt spilled in swirls on black velvet, black light illuminating. The stars shoot so fast that I doubt my eyes. 

High winds ripped rain fly from my tent. I can see the stars. Tonight, I don’t know if I should be frightened or exhilarated. Held in arms of magnificent adventure. We prayed the young seekers into the mountains. They began their three day fast and silent vigil. Blowing winds honor their quest. Continuing more than thirty hours. Wind chill created a constant cold. Fire was impossible in the high winds. Others chose to sleep in the open. Only protection from the destructive, chilling wind: their sleeping bags. 

+++ 

During the day the winds continued their intensity. My Mother. Sometimes she visits in powerful Wind. Often, I experience her as the Wind. First time I knew my Mother in the Wind was amazing. A beautiful and moving story. Worth the knowing. Find it in The Lion of God: Archangel Ari’El. Chapter nine, Coming On The Wind. Enjoy! 

Every time I experience strong Wind, I know my Mother’s spirit is near. This week, she was blustery for an intensely long period of time. After 30 constant hours of high winds, I didn’t think it could get any worse. One day of gentle breezes lulled me into believing that the Winds had passed. I was unbelievably wrong. The next day the Wind picked up and kicked up with new vigor and power. Now I was feeling frightened. I was once close to a tornado. This new Wind was going beyond getting our attention. One burst came at my tent from all four sides at once. It was as if I were sitting inside an inflated paper bag that was being suddenly banged from all four sides. Astonished, the tent did not explode with the force. Two of our men in the mountains. Alone with no food. Profound wilderness. No phone service. No means of calling for help. Yes, I was afraid. 

The tent folded in on itself. Unzipped all of the windows to let Wind’s force blow through rather than hammer the flat sides of the nylon. Impressed by tent’s strength. Ability to stay up, to stay together. I thought about writing a letter of “applause” to Coleman for their sturdy product. At a deeper place, I thought about the Winds of life that can beat me up or takes me for a ride. My choice. Fear or excitement. 

Winds created a “walking” tent. Stakes would not hold the lose sand composite Earth. I wondered, “Is this a metaphor for my current life? Am I struggling to hold on? To stay put? To establish some rootedness. Or, maybe the question is the very opposite. Maybe I am being asked to let go. To risk something new and different? Maybe I am being challenged to be someone very different from the mirror-person looking back at me. What is the question riding to and through me with this Wind? Is my Mother’s spirit the source of my experience? Is she demanding I take a closer look, make some changes. Is the challenge before me: let go of every confidence? Ride naked and new on the force of the Wind?” 

+++ 

Interesting, this planned experience of intergenerational wisdom sharing. The Elder in Residence. Supporting and supported by young, strong hearts. Knowing and unknown. 

+++ 

My tent was near the four to six-foot drop-off. It bottomed into a wash created by previous years flood waters. Land sculpted by strong moving water that passed repeatedly unnoticed. The stark bare bones of Earth’s mountains, reminded me of the Franklin Mountains of El Paso, Texas. Water had no opportunity to soak. Hard, rock-solid mountain surface repelled drenching. Simply, it roared down mountain sides, flooding washes, longing for lower ground. 

I was told it rained here twice a year. Doubtful of that statistic. I had experienced a large downpour my first night when we pitched our tents in town and tonight, it felt like more rain was on its way. 

+++ 

Incessant high winds, created concern. “Where might I find myself in the morning?” Before being swallowed in darkness, my strong headlight beam shone its way over the sand stony terrain. I found eleven rather large stone-people to help me. The largest that I could lift. Placing the stone-people around the inside perimeter of my “Wind-walking” tent floor to insure I would awake on the topside of the cliff come dawn!

(CONTINUE TO PART V)

INTO the DESERT 2018 - Part III of V

Into the Desert 2018

carol p. vaccariello, dmin., lpc

storyteller

(BACK TO PART II)

Last year I submitted a painting of Raven for a women’s art show: Transformative Journey 

There are many stories about Raven. She has shown herself in various cultures. There are stories about White and Black Ravens. About how she was transformed from White to Black in an act of life-giving love. Native Americans have collections of Raven stories. One popular story with numerous variations is, How Raven Stole the Sun.

Transformative Journey

This year I submitted “Raven #1: Zentangle and Haiku”

Zentangle is an advanced form of meditative doodling, a stress reducing prayer form.

I enjoy writing Haiku, a meditative rhythmic pattern repeating  5, 7, 5 syllables.

“Raven #1” is comprised of nine individual Zentangles strung together with 17 verses of Haiku.

The two mediums complement one another in the following piece: “Raven #1: Zentangle and Haiku”

Raven #1: ZENTANGLE and HAIKU

Read me aloud please

Slowly and thoughtfully place

Each word on your tongue

I thought I was done

Then a doodle is never

Complete on paper

Haiku dancing twirled

Inside my head like Spirit

Hovering gently

Above chaos then

And now sparkling Light once more

In eternal grace

There is always more

To uncover mindless art

Of subtle scribbles

Releasing deep thoughts

Of times gone by and hoped for

In this moment here

You read these white words

Quickly, there’s much to be done

And more to be seen

Encounter it all

Steady and slow, fast furious

This precious moment

Do you know how long

It took to not think out loud

or silent and still?

Counting first to five

And then syllables seven

Always rhyme heaven

Have you got it yet?

The pattern and the patter

All about Raven

When first she appeared

Sitting with her Beloved

Pearlescent white gleams.

She paid Divine price

Acting the creative charge

To gift us FIRE

Content with harsh voice

Stately iridescent black

She, Creatrix, sits

Enthroned in Earthly

Splendor connecting Divine

With awesome wonder:

She and you and me!

Together Divinity

Created splendor!

Go on, take the time

Read me once more, satisfy

Your heart on fire!

+++

Raven is a mythical, magical creature. In one of the Aridian tradition of Italian Witchcraft, Raven is both a messenger and a god. When Raven croaks, calls you, be prepared to receive a message. 

I ‘meet’ Raven in daily meditation. She hovers before me. Sometimes sits on my shoulders. In Tecopa, waiting to purchase fuel, I saw them. two large black birds perched in a palm tree on the opposite side of the road. I inquired, “Are there Ravens in the desert?” “Yes,” he replied, following my gaze into the tall desert palm. Sure-enough, there were two right there. Watching us. Pay attention!

Ravens’ Greeting in Tecopa

+++

(CONTINUE TO PART IV)

INTO the DESERT - Part II of V

Into the Desert 2018

carol p. vaccariello, dmin., lpc

storyteller

(BACK TO PART I)

Skylar had his pure white dog along. A significant percentage of Artic Wolf in her. Reassured knowing Luna was nearby. She opted to sleep outside her man-friend’s tent in the pouring rain. I pondered how each of us makes that choice: to sleep out in the cold or to snuggle up where all is secure and comfortable. Tonight, I am in a tent, however, I feel very much out in the cold. 

Black night. Ventured to the latrine. Hillside slippery mud-sand caved in with every step. Saturated ground. Rivulets of streaming water. Climbed the nearly impossible hillside. Returning to my tent, a test of balance. Sandals hopelessly soaked. Gritty sand enveloped my feet. Covered in “mud-sand” I went to the hot pool building. Washed my feet and legs. Saved a first use sleeping bag from total demise. 

+++ 

Having this run at pitching the tent, flattening the air mattress, struggling to get my sleeping bag back in its carrying sack, collapsing the tent, packing the truck and a quick dip in the hot pools, we were looking for the one place in town that served meals. 

Inside, we ordered warm breakfasts to energize for today’s tasks. Suddenly, lights and power went out. Hot breakfast a vanished dream. Yogurt and granola fill the hunger. We drove into Death Valley seeking the spot, waiting for us. The place Earth wanted to hold us in her caring arms. 

+++ 

Skylar found the area where he held a prior quest. We saw evidence of wood left behind for another group. It was still there. 

Mutual decision. Energy didn’t feel right. Opted to drive further back into the huge mountain framed canyon. 

+++ 

Stepping out of the truck into a Silence so profound and thick that I felt its “weight”. I was not thinking. I could only feel. I felt like I was walking through sticky, stretchy molasses of dense silence. The Silence was like a living thing. Its weight pulled at me until I laid on the ground giving in to Earth’s mighty tug. I surrendered. The ground supported my usually strong body which in that moment felt frail and unsubstantial. I was smaller than I have ever been. I opened my eyes to the mountainous giants surrounding me, calling my name with deep heavy silent sighs. Twenty feet from me, in front of the truck, Skylar laid on the ground, melting into Earth. 

Standing and walking we felt the pull of Earth inviting us to this space. We both knew this was the spot that would be most helpful and healing for those who would be joining us and for ourselves. 

+++ 

At the turn of the Century, I lived in El Paso, Texas. El Paso is twin/border city to Juarez, Mexico. It is desert climate, but nothing like what I experienced in Death Valley. El Paso is a desert filled with houses and businesses, it doesn’t feel like a desert. It is very hot. It is also noisy. The common clatter of voices and business. Sounds of cars, busses and trucks. Voices laced with strange accents. A mixture of Spanish and English, Tex-Mex. Most often I couldn’t decipher the strange sounding words. I would listen carefully hoping to catch a word I might know. It was a desert city. Traffic, congestion, confusion, crowds. I couldn’t see the horizon for the clutter of houses and buildings. A place of silence stolen. 

+++ 

Last week there were three young women signed on for this adventure. The weather forecast in addition to other “life-stuff” prevented each of them from making the journey. The forecast was daunting. Nineteen degrees Fahrenheit one night and the promise of high winds. When I learned that I was the only woman journeying with the group, I talked with Skylar. He is a veteran at this. Did he think it wise for me to persist in coming along with the weather that was promised? He reassured me. I knew this was something I really did want to do. It was a huge ‘bucket list’ item. I longed to see the star-studded night sky in total darkness, free from light pollution with the advantage of a dark moon. 

+++ 

We totaled five. Met up in Tecopa at the town Bistro next to the only motel in town where the others slept last evening. There were natural hot springs just outside their doors. At the small desert town café, power restored, we enjoyed a meal before beginning our trek to the desert. 

Skylar and I led the caravan to the spot that called to us yesterday. We felt the energies of a couple of locations. Determined that this was just the right place. We were to guide and support. Each one beginning a journey into depths of self. Each, here for a unique reason. All of us, here to begin an incredible journey. All of us, survivors of life’s unexpected. Good thing! Cause this was a journey into the unexpected. 

+++ 

I have working relationships with several Spirit Entities. The most recent of them is the Spirit of Raven. I perceived a Divine Feminine spirit making itself known to me, I asked her, “Give me an image, a way to picture you.” I tend to experience through the channel of sight. Immediately, I saw a Black Raven and then she morphed out of vision and I saw a White Raven. This kept happening for a minute or so. Back and forth, Black and White, Black and White. I was excited by this image. Google supported my excitement by teaching me about Raven. I thought White Ravens had pink eyes. I learned that there is actually a distinct species of White Raven with black eyes, that is not an albino of the Black Raven. I was thrilled to learn this. I was composing a song about Raven. Description is everything. 

Next morning, I approached my sacred space. She showed herself again. This time Raven sat on my shoulders. Black on the left and White on the right. As a result of my research, I took a closer look at White Raven’s eyes. They are black. She shows herself every morning. More often I see her Black form. So sleek and powerful.

(CONTINUE TO PART III)

INTO the DESERT 2018 - Part I of V

 Into the Desert 2018

carol p. vaccariello, dmin., lpc

storyteller

I know this to be true:

the moment I decide to commit to a pilgrimage of the heart, is the commencing moment. 

This journey started a year ago.  I answered the phone.

Skylar Wilson invited me to be Elder in Residence for Wild Awakenings,

a week-long journey into Wilderness.

          I am going to the Desert                                                I am seeking quiet

I am searching through my noisy heart 

for silence

+++

This was my first trip to Death Valley.

When I arrived, I pondered the name. What was it about this place that provoked a name like ‘Death Valley?’ 

My plane landed at McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas, Nevada. The taxi took its time driving less than two miles for a fee of $30 to the Serene Vegas Resort. Checking Google, I learned, I could have walked a meager mile to the Serene.

 

Thankful to check in and get settled for the night.  My room was more than a mile from the Strip.   Walked to the Strip to find something to eat.  Observed people who had smiles stuck to their faces. Some wore outlandish clothing, some barely any.  One young beautiful woman, with glittering long feathered headpiece and chestnut hair, approached me, the lone older woman on the street with streaming silver hair.  Greeted, I smiled.  Distracted by layers of loud makeup, I searched her face for camouflaged beauty. Clothing was unmistakably that of a “call girl.” I’m not very schooled in these labels.  Seems that a “call girl” is one who waits to be contacted by telephone. Doesn’t work the streets.  A bona-fide “show girl,” perhaps, on her way to work.  She reached out to me. Intense seeking eyes and surprising gentle voice. I expected harsh, crude.  I received simple.        

My smile was not painted or plastered, stuck to my face.  No color, simply the soft quality that comes with nature.  I smiled warmth.  Acknowledged her greeting. Took in the momentary encounter.  Walked passed.  Wondered, “Is this the real “Death Valley.”  People searching for something. Anything to fill the emptiness of their “desert” souls.  I was uncomfortable out here.  Desolate noise was everywhere.  Bodies, soul-less, filling the street. 

Found a small store. Purchased yogurt and milk. Returned to the relative quiet of the simple yet ample accommodation that was a healthy distance from the Strip.  Relieved, thankful.

+++

The following day, Skylar arrived. Truck filled. Supplies, tools, food, water. Next phase of soul journey. 

We camped in a small town, Tecopa. Edge of the desert. He brought a tent and air mattress for my use. Camp ground was a place where natural volcanic hot springs were directed into four pools. Two pools in the men’s building and two in the women’s. One of the two pools was hot and the second was warm. I ventured in the rain to the women’s pools. Misdirected, I unknowingly circled the men’s area entering from the opposite door. Mildly surprised to find a man hiding himself behind a wall. Peeked his head out. Explained that I was in the wrong building. I found the scene rather humorous. Bet I gave him something to talk about that evening. 

Followed his directions. Calmly exited. Went directly to the women’s area. Showered and slowly immersed myself in the hot volcanic water. Fantastic! The water was absolutely amazing. So clear. So smooth. Not a bubble in it. The pool was concrete painted sky blue. A natural sand and pebble bottom. Enclosed for privacy. No roof. The starry night sky! Concrete, sky blue; night sky, pitch black … diamond studded. I laid back. Gazed deep into stars. Enjoyed penetrating, soothing, relaxing heat. 

Before falling off to sleep, I removed myself, showered and dressed. Made my way to my tent. Slept on the inflated mattress that lasted about three hours. Awakened around 1:00 a.m. on hard ground. Flattened air mattress beneath me. Spent remainder of the night on cold rain dampened ground. Grateful to have the deflated mattress beneath me.

(CONTINUE TO PART II)