Saturday, February 14, 2009
A Post Election Muse
Apparently, we, the people of the United States (those that voted, anyway), have decided that we want change. This allows us to create a change in the relationship that we have with each other, with our community, with the world and, most importantly with our own government. Our country has a document and it starts with, ‘We, the people...’ It is a serious document and deserves high regard and respect. It is a contract between the people of this country and the governing powers, that we, the people, elect.
Our government, our president, no matter who he/she/they are, are our public servants. They are not our big daddy, our parents or our care givers. They are elected officials, paid for by the citizens of this country to head up our country, to problem solve for us for the goodness of the whole, not to rule us.
Unfortunately, there are people in this country who still believe that things are done ‘for them,’ or ‘to them.’ What that does is give the personal power away and allows someone else (who is full of greed) to make decisions for them, creating even more national greed. In these times of change, that will no longer work to the personal best interest. We must be mature enough, to help lead ourselves, help create our new reality, created a sense of community, create a sense of caring for each other. It is the society at large that has to fix things, not our elected officials. They cannot and should not do it on their own. It is our future, our lives, and we must participate in it in every way -- it is no longer a spectator sport but requires getting involved. We really don't have the right, any longer, to benefit from our society unless we are participating in it. If we don't participate, then we are ruled.
As Barack Obama said the night of November 4th, 2008, It is going to be a steep climb and isn't going to be easy, but it can be done - Yes, we can. Yes, we will! If we participate and co-create with it and not sit on our butts and expect it to be done for us..
The citizens in this country that are still thinking about themselves, that do not have a sense of nation, of community better get on board with the rest of us. It will take all of us together to bring about this change. We, each, have to personally participate, join forces with each other and communicate with each other and our elected officials. We have to be realistic, as well. We have to do some critical thinking, think things through, ban together and create a community, a society, and a country that we can all live and create in that is for all of us, not a select few.
Times of change, such as this, offers incredible opportunity. New businesses can be created, from the clothes industry, the auto industry, the daily child care, solar, small and large opportunities abound. We know what we need as a society, as a nation, as a neighbor. There is an enormous chance to really make a difference, to really promote our country, to really help our peoples. We can produce things, make things, write things, sew things, invent new things, grow things, build things, plan things, on and on. We each have a place, but we each have to participate with passion to make it happen, to create what we want that will benefit all of us. Our strengths are in our differences, together we can create wondrous things, together we can bring new energy, new insights, new creations, new ideas and thoughts to the table. Together we can make history, just like we did on November 4th of this year. It can be done with community organizing, with community participation - it has been done.
The old ways do not grow corn any longer. We all must get involved, stand up and take our place as a hard working participant in our new and very hopeful government. If we don't, then we will end up with a government that looks very much like the one that was in power the past 8 years or longer. Do we want that? It is entirely up to us.
Prissy Hamilton
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Chaco Canyon, A Rememberence, Part !
Years ago there was a Harmonic Conversion ceremony at Chaco Canyon and I gave a friend a bundle to put in the sacred fire, other than that, I’ve never had much interest in the place. Debbie, on the other hand, has been obsessed. For as long as she can remember, she has wanted to go there. So it didn’t surprise me when she came to visit that she requested to visit Chaco Canyon. We decided to make a weekend of it and I would take her to one of my favorite places in the area, Mesa Verde.
We left my northern New Mexico ranchette and drove northwest over the mountains. It was a beautiful drive, foliage in full bloom, crisp mountain air and a bright deep blue sky. The time and miles flew by and before we knew it, we were making the long climb up the two lane road to the top of the Mesa where Mesa Verde National Park is located.
I had been to Mesa Verde twice before. Each time gave me a deep feeling of comfort. I felt a real connection, despite my fear of heights, and I was happy to be back for a third time. It is the home of some of the most exquisite cliff dwellings in the world and there are hundreds of them. Most have not been excavated and are sealed until further advances in technology.
After a good nights sleep in the lodge, we rose early and headed out to the cliff dwellings. We spent the morning climbing around ruins, going down rope ladders which hung off sheer cliffs and crawling into cave like dwellings built into the high sandstone cliff walls.
Finally, we got to the one that was special to me, Palace House. We climbed down the long series of ladders, then on a small path around the cliff’s edge, between huge boulders and around a corner. Palace House was in view.
Debbie and I were both silent, taking in the place, all sensors on alert. Lucky for us there weren’t a lot of people there. We each walked around and inspected, experienced, and soaked in the energy of the place. I climbed down a ladder into a Kiva, Debbie came after me. I sat down on the floor and so did she. We sat there for some time, not saying a word, some noisy children came and went. We remained.
After a while, Debbie whispered, “know what this is?”
“Yes”, I answered, “and it was not used for what they think it was used for!”
“Sure wasn’t! I’ve been here many times, how ‘bout you?”
“Yes”, I agreed, “spent a wonderful life here, but I don’t think I died here.” More moments in silence and then we climbed up the ladder and out into the bright daylight.
The afternoon was spent sight seeing, climbing through ruins. Debbie talked me into a longer rope ladder climb down the cliff to a dwelling that I had not visited before. It was fascinating, incredible, but none had the same emotional impact on me as Palace House.
Next day, while driving to Chaco Canyon, we spoke of our thoughts, feelings and experience at Mesa Verde. She read a bit out of some of the brochures and we discovered that parts of the history just didn’t feel right to us. Both places, Mesa Verde and Chaco Canyon as well as other sites close by, archaeologist tell us, are places built and lived in by the Anassazi (Navajo word meaning ‘the ancient ones’). Despite decades of excavation very little is actually known about these people. They were around from 1100 to 1300 A.D. when they suddenly left, leaving no indication as to why, how or even where they went.
We discussed our feelings and musings in depth and came up with the notion that we had both lived in Palace House, Mesa Verde before. We were very happy there, at peace, but neither of us felt that we spent an entire life time there. In fact, Debbie felt she left for some unknown reason while still quite young. I felt I had left, too, but not until I was older. We left it at that as I turned the car onto the road marked Chaco Canyon, 36 miles.
The rutted dirt road to Chaco is a long dusty one. A wash board the likes of which I have never seen before or since. I was quickly convinced every screw in the engine of my car was going to be loosened. We each complained about the road, and the scenery, which was high desert and fairly hostel appearing.
We came around a bend and the road dropped sharply as we entered the canyon itself and it was vast. It was like going into a giant hole in the earth - huge. We remarked about it because the canyon was within the earth, as opposed to being nestled between peaks jutting out of the earth. Felt weird, look weird. Our first impression was one of cold aggression.
It was almost dusk. We passed the big ruin - Pueblo Bonita. “Stop here!”, Debbie ordered. I pulled over and into the parking lot. It was a huge structure, what appeared to be 5 or 6 stories to the original place, made of rock bricks. It was mammoth, almost overwhelming.
We walked up the winding path to the front of it and proceeded to go up the few stone stairs and in through a door. Then there was another doorway and Debbie, ahead of me, stopped just on the other side of it, cold in her tracks. I was slowly following behind her.
“I feel like I was just kicked in the chest by a horse,” she whispered, holding her chest. She continued walking slowly and so did I. I peeked through windows and was trying to pick up the energy of the place when I turned a corner and found her sitting on an out cropping of stone bricks. She looked gray and was visibly shaken.
“Are you all right?”
“Don’t know, I have felt heavier and heavier since I walked through that second doorway, my heart is pounding. I feel like my entire metabolic system is on alert.”
“Do you think we should go for help?” I asked, getting a bit concerned about her color.
“No”, she said, “it is just a reaction to this place. I’ve always wanted to come here ever since I can remember and I’m not going to leave that easily. There is obviously something I need to experience or learn. I can tell you, though, I have definitely been here before?”
I took my cue to leave her alone and let her experience what ever it was. I slowly kept walking, trying to figure out what I was feeling and trying to zero in on the general energy of the place.
It felt unpleasant to me, but not nearly so strong a feeling as what Debbie was experiencing. I knew that I didn’t much care for the site. It was 180 degrees different than what I felt at Mesa Verde where I had a very strong pleasant connection. This place seemed unhappy and morose. Felt to me like the people that built and lived here were not very happy.
I slowly walked around for the most part of an hour feeling more depressed with each step. I also got a sense that things here were forced to happen fast . I ended up outside looking at the structure from what seemed like a platform with kivas dug into it. Perhaps it was some kind of community square originally.
Debbie emerged from one of the many little doorways looking more gray and while walking toward her, I could tell she was teary eyed and shaking. She held two small stones in her hand.
“what's going on?” I asked quietly.
“I’ll tell you in the car. I’m having sensory overload and I need to leave.”
We walked to the car fairly quickly, cranked it up and drove toward the end of the park where the signs said there was a camp ground.
The camp ground was situated behind a large basalt wall or butte. It blocked any view or hint of the ruins. As soon as we got on the other side of that butte, she started blurting it all out.
“I can’t begin to describe the assault on my senses when I stepped through that second doorway. The heavy feeling in my chest made breathing difficult, my heart was racing and pounding to the point of pain and my physical body was getting heavier with each step I took. You know that I don’t cry easily, but I had no control over the tears. Mentally I was getting a video picture of so many images, but feeling the emotional impact at the same time. I guess you call it a full blown memory.”
“ Anyway”, she continued and I could hear the unwinding in her voice, “I helped build this place. I know it. I shaped the stones, I carried them. I placed them and I worked my tail off. See these stones?, she opened her hand revealing the two little stones she had been clutching. I took them because I put them there. I have a right to take them away. I was a prisoner here, a slave, I hated it. I had no personal power and it was a killer existence, not just for me, but for all that were here and there were many thousand. You were older than me and you didn’t have to work as hard, but you weren’t happy either.”
“I saw exactly how life was, I realized that the feelings I had at Mesa Verde yesterday were also flashbacks to my real life there, but the images and feelings were just the opposite of what I feel here. Life at Mesa Verde was hard, but peaceful and there was a general happiness for being there and living in the cliffs. We were brought here as young women,. We lost our connection to our families to some degree because we had been given to elder men in our community. I was given to a very old man that had little kindness in his heart for me and upheld more of an obligation to tradition than his heart’s choosing. There was also an urgency to the entire community. It was not talked about, but we all felt it. We had to hurry up, time was of the essence, but we didn’t know why.”
It was summer, but in the desert the temperature can drop 20 to 30 degrees as soon as the sun goes down. I backed the car in, set up a little stove, a blanket to sit on and we ate our dinner. It took her a full hour to regain the color in her face and to stop shaking.
Fate would have it that we were camped next to a group of people that were on a bit of a history tour. They built a big fire, and one of them, we termed the story teller, started giving a history lesson about the canyon, what they know about it, what has been discovered and so on.
We learned that historians think that Chaco Canyon was an important Anasassi cultural center from about 900 through 1130 A.D. About 30 ancient masonry buildings, containing hundreds of rooms each, attest to it’s importance. Some structures are thought to have served as astronomical observatories or calendars. Archaeologists discovered jewelry made from Mexican and Californian materials in ancient trash heaps. There are large well constructed roadways which lead from sites 50 miles away to the center of Chaco Canyon. As is the case with Mesa Verde, they do not know what happened to these people, what became of them, or even how they buried their dead. Both places are shrouded in mystery.
We eased dropped into the history lesson until about 10 pm and decided to turn into our sleeping bags as it was getting cold.
I couldn’t sleep. My mind keep going back over what I had felt and picked up of the energy of Pueblo Bonita. I didn’t have the same reaction that Debbie had, but I didn’t like the place. I felt it a very unhappy place and though I didn’t have a physical reaction per say, I realized that I must be disturbed otherwise sleep would have come easier as I was exhausted. Two a.m. found me unwrapping a tootsie roll.
“You can’t sleep either?”
“No, I can’t. What’s going on with you, you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine, now, but I surely in all the world didn’t expect to have a reaction like I that. Did you pick up anything?”
I explained that I did pick up a few things. I lived there, as well, but I didn’t feel like I had as difficult time with life. I was just acutely aware that I didn’t like the place at all. The sadness was disturbing, It felt like a bloody old wound, remembered.
“Maybe we’ll get more insight tomorrow when we see the rest of the place,” I pondered out loud.
“I hope so,” she said, “ I sure don’t like what I went through today.”
As usual, when camping out the sun gets you up early. No exception this time. Besides, Debbie could barely contain herself. She explained that she wanted to see and feel what ever it was she needed to see and feel and then get out of the place.
“I want to go back to Pueblo Bonita”, she announced.
:Surely you are kidding, after what you went through? Are you out of your mind?” I asked in complete disbelief.
“I’ve two pictures left in my camera, and I want to take them there. I have to, I have to see this through. There is a reason why I always wanted to come here, and I may never get another chance to come back. I have to figure out what all this is about., it is somehow very important.”
I wanted to tell her that it was for sure she would never get another chance with me for there was no way I was ever coming back. Hang up that thought right now. But I said not a word.
We quickly packed the car and left the camp site. I continued to grumble about going back to Pueblo Bonita, but Debbie kept reassuring me that she went through the brunt of it the day before and felt it would not be so physical this time. I argued and with only her personal style, she said she had no intention of leaving without seeing this whole thing through. I reluctantly acquiesced.
We stopped by the visitor center and grabbed some brochures and quickly viewed some artifacts. She rushed me, wanting to get to the pueblo before the crowd did. I dragged my feet.
Back in the car and driving out of the visitor entrance, I noticed a fork in the road to other sites which seemed to pull at me, but she shouted to turn back toward what I now considered the ‘dreaded’ pueblo. I pulled into a parking place in front of Pueblo Bonito and decided to leave my purse in the car. Without thinking, I slammed the door, Debbie was already out of the car and heading up the path toward the ruin.
“Oh, God,” I stood there in a frozen state.
Debbie turned around and looked a bit annoyed, “What now!”
“I just locked the keys in the car! What in bloody hell are we going to do now?”
“Don’t worry about it, it will be all right.”
“Debbie”, now I was getting annoyed, “we are miles away from any kind of place that would come unlock the car - miles - I don’t want to stay here, what the hell are we going to do - would you just consider the reality of this! I TOLD you this was a bad idea.” I was almost in tears. I just wanted to go home - take a bath, eat something yummy and relax.
“It will be all right, I know this, stop worrying, I am supposed to do this and it will be all right! Just come with me and we’ll figure it out later.”
I relented (not knowing what else to do) and walked after her, thinking about why I had managed to be so numskulled that I would lock the keys in the car. Then, I realized that it was passive aggression on my part. I didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to go back into the place. It was Debbie’s fault, I told her so. “All your fault, you know, I didn’t want to come back, you did and are so pushy about it and in such a hurry that I’m just plain undone.”
She stopped in her tracks and turned toward me. ‘Look,” she said with a plead and sincerity, “I will never get another chance to be here again in these circumstances, I have to go back in and find out what this is about. It is really important to me. We’ll figure out the car thing, I have no intention of spending another night here. I know it will be all right, just trust me on this one, please!”
“Another night here, Oh God, with you having heart palpitations, no way. I’ll kill you first and have to ride out in a squad car. I will not stay here another night. Do you understand me?”
“Oh, just shut up and come on - it will be all right, I’m telling you.”
I followed her into the first archway. She sat down and handed me the camera. “Here, take a picture of me.’ I did what I was told.
I, then, let her go ahead of me and held back a little distance before following. I put out all the sonar that I had within me. She was silent and so was I.
She passed through the second doorway, stopped briefly and then continued. I followed behind about 20 feet. Neither one of us spoke. We meandered through numerous rooms and spaces, still silent. Finally after an hour, we found ourselves out in the open square again.
I was looking down into a Kiva when Debbie walked over to me and said she was ready to go. There was something about the Kivas on this property that deeply disturbed me - unlike the ones at Mesa Verde which put out an inviting peace - these felt like war of some kind. We walked back to the car in silence.
Upon getting to the car, I started checking all the doors. I saw the keys inside sitting there teasing me with their boldness. We saw a couple walking toward another car and I asked them if they had a wire coat hanger. No they did not, sorry. “Me, too.” I muttered. Debbie spotted a man, on his own, walking down the walkway and asked him if he had a coat hanger. he did, and within 5 minutes, he had us in our car with the keys in my hot little hand. I offered to pay him and he refused, said he was more than happy to help. We thanked him - he could see the gratitude in our eyes.
“Well, you’ve done it again!” I said to Debbie.
“Done what” she asked.
“Saved yourself”, I sneered. We both laughed from sheer relief.
In the car, she told me she had had the same physical experience as she had the night before. We were both shocked that the second time around was just as powerful.
We walked about several of the other ruins on the site. One, and I can’t remember the name, seemed worse to me than all the others. I thought I could smell blood as I viewed the large kiva from that plaza. It had doorways and small openings and I immediately thought of the large arenas in Rome that gladiators fought in. Seemed a terrible place with heart wrenching energy attached to it.
We traced our path and took the fork in the road that had pulled to me. We pulled up to a small ruin and I immediately felt as if I knew the place.
“Water, Debbie, there was water here, a small stream or something and there were gardens over there. I lived here. There was a second floor. You see, from this terrace, I couldn’t see Pueblo Bonito. Gosh, I remember this well, I feel like I could just sit down and describe it in detail, like visiting a house I lived in as a kid or something like that.” I felt amazed and comfortable with the knowledge.
“I knew you didn’t have as difficult time as me, I just knew it. But we were both here together - at the same time, I mean, don’t you feel that?”
“Yes, I do feel that. I know exactly what role I played. I brought you guys food and water. I felt terrible about the way you were treated. I was free to walk around, tend the gardens. My life was much easier. But we left here. I feel like we left in that direction I wonder if we were caught and killed in that kiva where I smelled blood. I wonder what happened to us. I know I never returned to Mesa Verde”
“No,” Debbie broke my running verbal thoughts , “We never went back to Mesa Verde, I know that, too. Don’t know where we would have gone, we would have been on foot and there isn’t much out there to exist on. They would have caught us and probably killed us. I didn’t get a connection with that place where you smelled blood so I don’t think I was killed there except that being dead was surely better than that life.”
We drove back to the ranchette with long spaces of silence as we each assimilated what we had experienced. Every now and again, the silence would be broken when one of us thought of something new. We discussed and shared our feelings and thoughts, but when it came to figuring out why all this happened, we had no answers, no conclusion.
Two days later just before she walked onto the plane back to Washington state, she turned and looked me straight in the eyes.
“This isn’t over, it is unfinished business, you know that. We just have to figure out what the next step is. I’ll call you if I get any insights, and you do the same.”
“Agreement,” I promised, “Keep in touch.”
I watched her walk down the hallway into the plane. I stood a few minutes and watched the plane leave the runway. She was right, I thought, unfinished business!”
We left my northern New Mexico ranchette and drove northwest over the mountains. It was a beautiful drive, foliage in full bloom, crisp mountain air and a bright deep blue sky. The time and miles flew by and before we knew it, we were making the long climb up the two lane road to the top of the Mesa where Mesa Verde National Park is located.
I had been to Mesa Verde twice before. Each time gave me a deep feeling of comfort. I felt a real connection, despite my fear of heights, and I was happy to be back for a third time. It is the home of some of the most exquisite cliff dwellings in the world and there are hundreds of them. Most have not been excavated and are sealed until further advances in technology.
After a good nights sleep in the lodge, we rose early and headed out to the cliff dwellings. We spent the morning climbing around ruins, going down rope ladders which hung off sheer cliffs and crawling into cave like dwellings built into the high sandstone cliff walls.
Finally, we got to the one that was special to me, Palace House. We climbed down the long series of ladders, then on a small path around the cliff’s edge, between huge boulders and around a corner. Palace House was in view.
Debbie and I were both silent, taking in the place, all sensors on alert. Lucky for us there weren’t a lot of people there. We each walked around and inspected, experienced, and soaked in the energy of the place. I climbed down a ladder into a Kiva, Debbie came after me. I sat down on the floor and so did she. We sat there for some time, not saying a word, some noisy children came and went. We remained.
After a while, Debbie whispered, “know what this is?”
“Yes”, I answered, “and it was not used for what they think it was used for!”
“Sure wasn’t! I’ve been here many times, how ‘bout you?”
“Yes”, I agreed, “spent a wonderful life here, but I don’t think I died here.” More moments in silence and then we climbed up the ladder and out into the bright daylight.
The afternoon was spent sight seeing, climbing through ruins. Debbie talked me into a longer rope ladder climb down the cliff to a dwelling that I had not visited before. It was fascinating, incredible, but none had the same emotional impact on me as Palace House.
Next day, while driving to Chaco Canyon, we spoke of our thoughts, feelings and experience at Mesa Verde. She read a bit out of some of the brochures and we discovered that parts of the history just didn’t feel right to us. Both places, Mesa Verde and Chaco Canyon as well as other sites close by, archaeologist tell us, are places built and lived in by the Anassazi (Navajo word meaning ‘the ancient ones’). Despite decades of excavation very little is actually known about these people. They were around from 1100 to 1300 A.D. when they suddenly left, leaving no indication as to why, how or even where they went.
We discussed our feelings and musings in depth and came up with the notion that we had both lived in Palace House, Mesa Verde before. We were very happy there, at peace, but neither of us felt that we spent an entire life time there. In fact, Debbie felt she left for some unknown reason while still quite young. I felt I had left, too, but not until I was older. We left it at that as I turned the car onto the road marked Chaco Canyon, 36 miles.
The rutted dirt road to Chaco is a long dusty one. A wash board the likes of which I have never seen before or since. I was quickly convinced every screw in the engine of my car was going to be loosened. We each complained about the road, and the scenery, which was high desert and fairly hostel appearing.
We came around a bend and the road dropped sharply as we entered the canyon itself and it was vast. It was like going into a giant hole in the earth - huge. We remarked about it because the canyon was within the earth, as opposed to being nestled between peaks jutting out of the earth. Felt weird, look weird. Our first impression was one of cold aggression.
It was almost dusk. We passed the big ruin - Pueblo Bonita. “Stop here!”, Debbie ordered. I pulled over and into the parking lot. It was a huge structure, what appeared to be 5 or 6 stories to the original place, made of rock bricks. It was mammoth, almost overwhelming.
We walked up the winding path to the front of it and proceeded to go up the few stone stairs and in through a door. Then there was another doorway and Debbie, ahead of me, stopped just on the other side of it, cold in her tracks. I was slowly following behind her.
“I feel like I was just kicked in the chest by a horse,” she whispered, holding her chest. She continued walking slowly and so did I. I peeked through windows and was trying to pick up the energy of the place when I turned a corner and found her sitting on an out cropping of stone bricks. She looked gray and was visibly shaken.
“Are you all right?”
“Don’t know, I have felt heavier and heavier since I walked through that second doorway, my heart is pounding. I feel like my entire metabolic system is on alert.”
“Do you think we should go for help?” I asked, getting a bit concerned about her color.
“No”, she said, “it is just a reaction to this place. I’ve always wanted to come here ever since I can remember and I’m not going to leave that easily. There is obviously something I need to experience or learn. I can tell you, though, I have definitely been here before?”
I took my cue to leave her alone and let her experience what ever it was. I slowly kept walking, trying to figure out what I was feeling and trying to zero in on the general energy of the place.
It felt unpleasant to me, but not nearly so strong a feeling as what Debbie was experiencing. I knew that I didn’t much care for the site. It was 180 degrees different than what I felt at Mesa Verde where I had a very strong pleasant connection. This place seemed unhappy and morose. Felt to me like the people that built and lived here were not very happy.
I slowly walked around for the most part of an hour feeling more depressed with each step. I also got a sense that things here were forced to happen fast . I ended up outside looking at the structure from what seemed like a platform with kivas dug into it. Perhaps it was some kind of community square originally.
Debbie emerged from one of the many little doorways looking more gray and while walking toward her, I could tell she was teary eyed and shaking. She held two small stones in her hand.
“what's going on?” I asked quietly.
“I’ll tell you in the car. I’m having sensory overload and I need to leave.”
We walked to the car fairly quickly, cranked it up and drove toward the end of the park where the signs said there was a camp ground.
The camp ground was situated behind a large basalt wall or butte. It blocked any view or hint of the ruins. As soon as we got on the other side of that butte, she started blurting it all out.
“I can’t begin to describe the assault on my senses when I stepped through that second doorway. The heavy feeling in my chest made breathing difficult, my heart was racing and pounding to the point of pain and my physical body was getting heavier with each step I took. You know that I don’t cry easily, but I had no control over the tears. Mentally I was getting a video picture of so many images, but feeling the emotional impact at the same time. I guess you call it a full blown memory.”
“ Anyway”, she continued and I could hear the unwinding in her voice, “I helped build this place. I know it. I shaped the stones, I carried them. I placed them and I worked my tail off. See these stones?, she opened her hand revealing the two little stones she had been clutching. I took them because I put them there. I have a right to take them away. I was a prisoner here, a slave, I hated it. I had no personal power and it was a killer existence, not just for me, but for all that were here and there were many thousand. You were older than me and you didn’t have to work as hard, but you weren’t happy either.”
“I saw exactly how life was, I realized that the feelings I had at Mesa Verde yesterday were also flashbacks to my real life there, but the images and feelings were just the opposite of what I feel here. Life at Mesa Verde was hard, but peaceful and there was a general happiness for being there and living in the cliffs. We were brought here as young women,. We lost our connection to our families to some degree because we had been given to elder men in our community. I was given to a very old man that had little kindness in his heart for me and upheld more of an obligation to tradition than his heart’s choosing. There was also an urgency to the entire community. It was not talked about, but we all felt it. We had to hurry up, time was of the essence, but we didn’t know why.”
It was summer, but in the desert the temperature can drop 20 to 30 degrees as soon as the sun goes down. I backed the car in, set up a little stove, a blanket to sit on and we ate our dinner. It took her a full hour to regain the color in her face and to stop shaking.
Fate would have it that we were camped next to a group of people that were on a bit of a history tour. They built a big fire, and one of them, we termed the story teller, started giving a history lesson about the canyon, what they know about it, what has been discovered and so on.
We learned that historians think that Chaco Canyon was an important Anasassi cultural center from about 900 through 1130 A.D. About 30 ancient masonry buildings, containing hundreds of rooms each, attest to it’s importance. Some structures are thought to have served as astronomical observatories or calendars. Archaeologists discovered jewelry made from Mexican and Californian materials in ancient trash heaps. There are large well constructed roadways which lead from sites 50 miles away to the center of Chaco Canyon. As is the case with Mesa Verde, they do not know what happened to these people, what became of them, or even how they buried their dead. Both places are shrouded in mystery.
We eased dropped into the history lesson until about 10 pm and decided to turn into our sleeping bags as it was getting cold.
I couldn’t sleep. My mind keep going back over what I had felt and picked up of the energy of Pueblo Bonita. I didn’t have the same reaction that Debbie had, but I didn’t like the place. I felt it a very unhappy place and though I didn’t have a physical reaction per say, I realized that I must be disturbed otherwise sleep would have come easier as I was exhausted. Two a.m. found me unwrapping a tootsie roll.
“You can’t sleep either?”
“No, I can’t. What’s going on with you, you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine, now, but I surely in all the world didn’t expect to have a reaction like I that. Did you pick up anything?”
I explained that I did pick up a few things. I lived there, as well, but I didn’t feel like I had as difficult time with life. I was just acutely aware that I didn’t like the place at all. The sadness was disturbing, It felt like a bloody old wound, remembered.
“Maybe we’ll get more insight tomorrow when we see the rest of the place,” I pondered out loud.
“I hope so,” she said, “ I sure don’t like what I went through today.”
As usual, when camping out the sun gets you up early. No exception this time. Besides, Debbie could barely contain herself. She explained that she wanted to see and feel what ever it was she needed to see and feel and then get out of the place.
“I want to go back to Pueblo Bonita”, she announced.
:Surely you are kidding, after what you went through? Are you out of your mind?” I asked in complete disbelief.
“I’ve two pictures left in my camera, and I want to take them there. I have to, I have to see this through. There is a reason why I always wanted to come here, and I may never get another chance to come back. I have to figure out what all this is about., it is somehow very important.”
I wanted to tell her that it was for sure she would never get another chance with me for there was no way I was ever coming back. Hang up that thought right now. But I said not a word.
We quickly packed the car and left the camp site. I continued to grumble about going back to Pueblo Bonita, but Debbie kept reassuring me that she went through the brunt of it the day before and felt it would not be so physical this time. I argued and with only her personal style, she said she had no intention of leaving without seeing this whole thing through. I reluctantly acquiesced.
We stopped by the visitor center and grabbed some brochures and quickly viewed some artifacts. She rushed me, wanting to get to the pueblo before the crowd did. I dragged my feet.
Back in the car and driving out of the visitor entrance, I noticed a fork in the road to other sites which seemed to pull at me, but she shouted to turn back toward what I now considered the ‘dreaded’ pueblo. I pulled into a parking place in front of Pueblo Bonito and decided to leave my purse in the car. Without thinking, I slammed the door, Debbie was already out of the car and heading up the path toward the ruin.
“Oh, God,” I stood there in a frozen state.
Debbie turned around and looked a bit annoyed, “What now!”
“I just locked the keys in the car! What in bloody hell are we going to do now?”
“Don’t worry about it, it will be all right.”
“Debbie”, now I was getting annoyed, “we are miles away from any kind of place that would come unlock the car - miles - I don’t want to stay here, what the hell are we going to do - would you just consider the reality of this! I TOLD you this was a bad idea.” I was almost in tears. I just wanted to go home - take a bath, eat something yummy and relax.
“It will be all right, I know this, stop worrying, I am supposed to do this and it will be all right! Just come with me and we’ll figure it out later.”
I relented (not knowing what else to do) and walked after her, thinking about why I had managed to be so numskulled that I would lock the keys in the car. Then, I realized that it was passive aggression on my part. I didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to go back into the place. It was Debbie’s fault, I told her so. “All your fault, you know, I didn’t want to come back, you did and are so pushy about it and in such a hurry that I’m just plain undone.”
She stopped in her tracks and turned toward me. ‘Look,” she said with a plead and sincerity, “I will never get another chance to be here again in these circumstances, I have to go back in and find out what this is about. It is really important to me. We’ll figure out the car thing, I have no intention of spending another night here. I know it will be all right, just trust me on this one, please!”
“Another night here, Oh God, with you having heart palpitations, no way. I’ll kill you first and have to ride out in a squad car. I will not stay here another night. Do you understand me?”
“Oh, just shut up and come on - it will be all right, I’m telling you.”
I followed her into the first archway. She sat down and handed me the camera. “Here, take a picture of me.’ I did what I was told.
I, then, let her go ahead of me and held back a little distance before following. I put out all the sonar that I had within me. She was silent and so was I.
She passed through the second doorway, stopped briefly and then continued. I followed behind about 20 feet. Neither one of us spoke. We meandered through numerous rooms and spaces, still silent. Finally after an hour, we found ourselves out in the open square again.
I was looking down into a Kiva when Debbie walked over to me and said she was ready to go. There was something about the Kivas on this property that deeply disturbed me - unlike the ones at Mesa Verde which put out an inviting peace - these felt like war of some kind. We walked back to the car in silence.
Upon getting to the car, I started checking all the doors. I saw the keys inside sitting there teasing me with their boldness. We saw a couple walking toward another car and I asked them if they had a wire coat hanger. No they did not, sorry. “Me, too.” I muttered. Debbie spotted a man, on his own, walking down the walkway and asked him if he had a coat hanger. he did, and within 5 minutes, he had us in our car with the keys in my hot little hand. I offered to pay him and he refused, said he was more than happy to help. We thanked him - he could see the gratitude in our eyes.
“Well, you’ve done it again!” I said to Debbie.
“Done what” she asked.
“Saved yourself”, I sneered. We both laughed from sheer relief.
In the car, she told me she had had the same physical experience as she had the night before. We were both shocked that the second time around was just as powerful.
We walked about several of the other ruins on the site. One, and I can’t remember the name, seemed worse to me than all the others. I thought I could smell blood as I viewed the large kiva from that plaza. It had doorways and small openings and I immediately thought of the large arenas in Rome that gladiators fought in. Seemed a terrible place with heart wrenching energy attached to it.
We traced our path and took the fork in the road that had pulled to me. We pulled up to a small ruin and I immediately felt as if I knew the place.
“Water, Debbie, there was water here, a small stream or something and there were gardens over there. I lived here. There was a second floor. You see, from this terrace, I couldn’t see Pueblo Bonito. Gosh, I remember this well, I feel like I could just sit down and describe it in detail, like visiting a house I lived in as a kid or something like that.” I felt amazed and comfortable with the knowledge.
“I knew you didn’t have as difficult time as me, I just knew it. But we were both here together - at the same time, I mean, don’t you feel that?”
“Yes, I do feel that. I know exactly what role I played. I brought you guys food and water. I felt terrible about the way you were treated. I was free to walk around, tend the gardens. My life was much easier. But we left here. I feel like we left in that direction I wonder if we were caught and killed in that kiva where I smelled blood. I wonder what happened to us. I know I never returned to Mesa Verde”
“No,” Debbie broke my running verbal thoughts , “We never went back to Mesa Verde, I know that, too. Don’t know where we would have gone, we would have been on foot and there isn’t much out there to exist on. They would have caught us and probably killed us. I didn’t get a connection with that place where you smelled blood so I don’t think I was killed there except that being dead was surely better than that life.”
We drove back to the ranchette with long spaces of silence as we each assimilated what we had experienced. Every now and again, the silence would be broken when one of us thought of something new. We discussed and shared our feelings and thoughts, but when it came to figuring out why all this happened, we had no answers, no conclusion.
Two days later just before she walked onto the plane back to Washington state, she turned and looked me straight in the eyes.
“This isn’t over, it is unfinished business, you know that. We just have to figure out what the next step is. I’ll call you if I get any insights, and you do the same.”
“Agreement,” I promised, “Keep in touch.”
I watched her walk down the hallway into the plane. I stood a few minutes and watched the plane leave the runway. She was right, I thought, unfinished business!”
Chaco Canyon - A Rememberance, Part II, Unfinished business complete
With the passing of several years, I received several phone calls and letters from Debbie sharing insights. The major change seemed to be around her control issues. She had always explained it away as being independent, but with the experience at Chaco, this independence seemed to be melting away. She said that she was much more willing to compromise than she ever deemed possible. The ‘sting’ seems to be gone, she said.
We also became aware that neither of us liked to be ordered around, never took directions well, in fact, had the mind to do the opposite from what we were told, even as children. And we both hated joining groups. I, for instance, failed Brownies (the younger version of Girl Scouts). I could be a fun participant, but in large organized traditional groups, I wanted no part of it.
Debbie was ecstatic over how much more comfortable she was with life. I distinctly remember her saying that assimilating all the experience of Chaco had changed her life. She felt this was the reason she was always pushed to visit the place. ‘....so I could be free of it to do what I need to do in this life.’
The next time Debbie came to New Mexico to visit found us taking a weekend at the hot springs between Taos and Santa Fe, getting massages, mud baths and eating healthy yummy food. It was bliss, relaxing and fun. Packing the car to drive home, Debbie handed me a tape, saying that if I liked it, I could have it. So as we drove toward Santa Fe, I popped the tape in and settled in for the 2.5 hour drive home until Debbie saw a sign which read: Bandelier, 16 miles.
What’s that? she asked. ‘I don’t know, wanna go there?” “Might as well, we have plenty of time’. So off the main road I turned.
Before we realized it, we were in a traffic jam, trying to get into the parking lot of a state park. The tape was the only thing that kept me in the long line of cars, as we ended up waiting 45 minutes for a parking space.
As we walked into the park office, we both saw Indian looking relics. “Oh, no-o-o” I uttered, “what have you got us into now?” Debbie snapped back, “Get over it, clearly we are supposed to be here.”
We both started laughing. I had to sit down I was laughing so hard, the tears streaming down my face and I was doubled over, holding my stomach. the more I thought about it, the funnier it got. I realized I was making a scene so I told her I was going on ahead, she could catch up with me.
I left the office/museum and headed down the worn path to the ruins. I wasn’t 50 yards away when I walked up a steep incline and went under an arch carved out of stone. It was as if I had walked through a veil, a door, a window and a mantra came rushing through the eons to me - ‘you have come home - you are safe’.
I was stunned. I stood for a few seconds to get my baring on my feelings and thoughts. It was 90 degrees and I had chills up and down my body and felt chilled all over. I slowly kept walking, around a corner, up the steep path and found a wooden bench to sit on that over looked the walk way and the arch. I started to relax and began to breathe easier. I felt lighter and almost excited. “You have come home and you are safe’ kept ringing in my head. It felt good and before too long the sun warmed me up. I watched as people walked through the arch. Some paused a moment to examine it, but most just kept on walking and chatting without missing a beat. Then came Debbie. She didn’t notice me and I felt a little sneaky watching her silently. She paused under the arch for a moment and then went out of sight. I turned around on the bench so that I could see her expression when she rounded the corner. She looked puzzled.
I just walked through another door, only this time I didn’t come back out, but I feel all right. Actually I feel pretty good. It’s like I’m safe or something like that.”
I started smiling, “Me, too, it’s calming, guess you were right, we’re supposed to be here.”
“Yes, but I didn’t come back out.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well, when I went under that arch, I felt I was walking through a doorway, felt calm, safe and happy, but I didn’t experience walking out of it again like I did at Chaco Canyon. Know what I am trying to say?”
“Yes, I think I do. Maybe this is the solution or settling or coming to an evenness with the experience of Chaco. Maybe you’ve resolved the conflict you have been carrying with you as soul memory since the Chaco Canyon life. Perhaps all the work you’ve done on it has cleared the way to a resolution of sorts.”
“Maybe so”, she said softly, “I just know I feel better about the whole thing. And you?” she asked and looked up at me.”
“Felt something similar, felt relief, huge sense of relief, safe, Like I was coming home and heard the words -’you have come home - you are safe’. I think we’ve come full circle, what ever that means.”
We hadn’t even scratched the surface of this ancient site. The land looked like a combination of both Chaco and Mesa Verde. Structures on the ground and then high rooms carved into the canyon walls.
We walked in silence, looking, experiencing. For me it was an easy trek as I felt a healing thing happening and the strong feeling of relief stayed with me.
There was a tall ladder that seemed to beckon - so I started up it. I’m not fond of heights, as Debbie well knew, so when I stopped half way up I heard her voice right behind me telling me not to look down, but to keep on going. I took in the security of her voice and continued on up the ladder against the high canyon wall.
Arriving at the top, I crawled in on my hands and knees as there wasn’t room to stand up. I discovered three small room like ‘perches’ each with a hole or window in which one could look out across the valley and see the entrance to the park. I positioned myself in front of the first window, leaving enough room for Debbie to crawl past me to the next window, which she did. We sat alone and silent high up in the cliff for what seemed like a long time.
With a combination of meditation, ising, feeling and experiencing the energy, I unfolded the story which came on the wings of feeling extreme relief. I had grown up in Mesa Verde, a peaceful and spiritual life with lots of connection to the earth. I was then stolen (this differs from Debbie’s point of view as she feels she was sold) and taken to Chaco Canyon where I worked in a group who were a ‘support service’ for the laborers (of which Debbie was a part). I did things like vegetable gardening, took food and water to the laborers, prepared meals, etc. I deplored the conditions they had to work in and the way they were treated. I became more and more homesick for my beloved Mesa Verde and more and more depressed about the situation in Chaco Canyon. I banded together with a small group of people who felt the same and we ran away.
The memory was that it took a long time to prepare to leave and then we had to wait for a time when we would have enough hours or days before they missed us so we would have a good head start. We left during the first six hours of a three day ceremony. There were visitors from far and near and the area was exploding with people and activity. Getting caught meant certain death. I am uncertain if we were trying to find Mesa Verde or not. I do know that our little band, which Debbie was a part, wandered that part of the country for several months until we stumbled upon Bandelier. There, it reminded us of Mesa Verde and we decided to stay as it offered a safe canyon, stream and was a place where we could live without much notice from other bands.
I realized I was sitting in a look out perch that gave a view of the entrance to the canyon as well as the activity of the residence below. I felt I had perched there many a time, watching for any scouts from Chaco that might be looking for us.
As I sat there, following the stream of this insight, a face appeared in the window blocking my view. It was a young woman in her twenties and I initially thought she was my relief person, but snapped back to present day reality when she smiled and said something about this being a safe place to sit for a while as she crawled pass me, pass Debbie and perched herself in the third and only remaining look out window. We all sat there in silence for a long time.
Finally, she said, “I feel like I’ve been here before” at which point both Debbie and I said in unison, “You have!”
I am unsure how long we all three sat there, but when one made a move to leave, we all three did. Being the last to get on the ladder to climb down, and seeing the height, I remember saying something about hard liquor and an air lift. That broke the silence and we all laughed.
We together toured the rest of the ruins, talking, sharing feelings and musing. When we got back to the car park, we sat at a picnic table so she could give her dog some water and share some cookies. We learned that Marilyn came from North Carolina. She had been laid off her job, had a bit of money saved, had wanted to visit Bandelier, Chaco Canyon and Mesa Verde for as long as she could remember. She felt the timing was right, so she packed her sleeping bag, tent and gear, and her beloved dog and headed out to follow her soul’s prodding. Bandiler was the first stop of her journey. We shared with her some of our experience at both places. She, along with us, felt that we had all three been on this trek before. She even stated that she felt she was doing it backwards, but that is the way it was turning out.
As we drove toward home late that afternoon, I popped the tape back in the deck. “This is a great tape, Debbie, what is it?”
Debbie kicked off her shoes, settled back in the seat, and looking straight ahead simply said, “It is by Medwyn Goodall and it is called: Medicine Woman.”
* Foot Notes
1. Since this adventure, some archeologists have come out with what they think is proof of cannibalism in ancient sites very near to Mesa Verde. Although Debbie and I didn’t experience that at Mesa Verde, we did feel like extreme rituals at Chaco Canyon were performed which resulted in the killing of animals and humans.
2. My knowingness of the Kiva we were in at Mesa Verde, told me it was a safe holding space for the physical body, while one could go play in the universe, OBE (Out of body Experience).
3. There is recent speculation that the word Anassazi could also mean (again in Navajo) The Evil Ones.
4. It is believed by the Navajo, Zuni and a few other tribes in the area that the Pueblo Peoples are direct descendants of the Ancient Ones. The daughter of a very wise Chief of the Navajo Nation, some years back, told me that her father told her many years ago that the Pueblo Peoples would neither agree or disagree with that notion. This led him to come to believe that it probably wasn’t so, that they may have once knew of the reasons but remained silent about it.
5. Debbie swears that they were time travelers - she will not be more specific than that. I have played with the notion, myself and feel that there maybe some truth to that feeling.
6. Today, Kivas in the Pueblos are used for ‘spiritual ceremonies’ - the women, to this day, are not allowed to take part or even enter a Kiva. Modern Kivas have high adobe walls around them and are usually located in the center of the Pueblo Village.
7. Marilyn - if you read this, please contact me through the address in my profile. We lost your address and both Debbie and I would like to get in contact with you.
We also became aware that neither of us liked to be ordered around, never took directions well, in fact, had the mind to do the opposite from what we were told, even as children. And we both hated joining groups. I, for instance, failed Brownies (the younger version of Girl Scouts). I could be a fun participant, but in large organized traditional groups, I wanted no part of it.
Debbie was ecstatic over how much more comfortable she was with life. I distinctly remember her saying that assimilating all the experience of Chaco had changed her life. She felt this was the reason she was always pushed to visit the place. ‘....so I could be free of it to do what I need to do in this life.’
The next time Debbie came to New Mexico to visit found us taking a weekend at the hot springs between Taos and Santa Fe, getting massages, mud baths and eating healthy yummy food. It was bliss, relaxing and fun. Packing the car to drive home, Debbie handed me a tape, saying that if I liked it, I could have it. So as we drove toward Santa Fe, I popped the tape in and settled in for the 2.5 hour drive home until Debbie saw a sign which read: Bandelier, 16 miles.
What’s that? she asked. ‘I don’t know, wanna go there?” “Might as well, we have plenty of time’. So off the main road I turned.
Before we realized it, we were in a traffic jam, trying to get into the parking lot of a state park. The tape was the only thing that kept me in the long line of cars, as we ended up waiting 45 minutes for a parking space.
As we walked into the park office, we both saw Indian looking relics. “Oh, no-o-o” I uttered, “what have you got us into now?” Debbie snapped back, “Get over it, clearly we are supposed to be here.”
We both started laughing. I had to sit down I was laughing so hard, the tears streaming down my face and I was doubled over, holding my stomach. the more I thought about it, the funnier it got. I realized I was making a scene so I told her I was going on ahead, she could catch up with me.
I left the office/museum and headed down the worn path to the ruins. I wasn’t 50 yards away when I walked up a steep incline and went under an arch carved out of stone. It was as if I had walked through a veil, a door, a window and a mantra came rushing through the eons to me - ‘you have come home - you are safe’.
I was stunned. I stood for a few seconds to get my baring on my feelings and thoughts. It was 90 degrees and I had chills up and down my body and felt chilled all over. I slowly kept walking, around a corner, up the steep path and found a wooden bench to sit on that over looked the walk way and the arch. I started to relax and began to breathe easier. I felt lighter and almost excited. “You have come home and you are safe’ kept ringing in my head. It felt good and before too long the sun warmed me up. I watched as people walked through the arch. Some paused a moment to examine it, but most just kept on walking and chatting without missing a beat. Then came Debbie. She didn’t notice me and I felt a little sneaky watching her silently. She paused under the arch for a moment and then went out of sight. I turned around on the bench so that I could see her expression when she rounded the corner. She looked puzzled.
I just walked through another door, only this time I didn’t come back out, but I feel all right. Actually I feel pretty good. It’s like I’m safe or something like that.”
I started smiling, “Me, too, it’s calming, guess you were right, we’re supposed to be here.”
“Yes, but I didn’t come back out.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well, when I went under that arch, I felt I was walking through a doorway, felt calm, safe and happy, but I didn’t experience walking out of it again like I did at Chaco Canyon. Know what I am trying to say?”
“Yes, I think I do. Maybe this is the solution or settling or coming to an evenness with the experience of Chaco. Maybe you’ve resolved the conflict you have been carrying with you as soul memory since the Chaco Canyon life. Perhaps all the work you’ve done on it has cleared the way to a resolution of sorts.”
“Maybe so”, she said softly, “I just know I feel better about the whole thing. And you?” she asked and looked up at me.”
“Felt something similar, felt relief, huge sense of relief, safe, Like I was coming home and heard the words -’you have come home - you are safe’. I think we’ve come full circle, what ever that means.”
We hadn’t even scratched the surface of this ancient site. The land looked like a combination of both Chaco and Mesa Verde. Structures on the ground and then high rooms carved into the canyon walls.
We walked in silence, looking, experiencing. For me it was an easy trek as I felt a healing thing happening and the strong feeling of relief stayed with me.
There was a tall ladder that seemed to beckon - so I started up it. I’m not fond of heights, as Debbie well knew, so when I stopped half way up I heard her voice right behind me telling me not to look down, but to keep on going. I took in the security of her voice and continued on up the ladder against the high canyon wall.
Arriving at the top, I crawled in on my hands and knees as there wasn’t room to stand up. I discovered three small room like ‘perches’ each with a hole or window in which one could look out across the valley and see the entrance to the park. I positioned myself in front of the first window, leaving enough room for Debbie to crawl past me to the next window, which she did. We sat alone and silent high up in the cliff for what seemed like a long time.
With a combination of meditation, ising, feeling and experiencing the energy, I unfolded the story which came on the wings of feeling extreme relief. I had grown up in Mesa Verde, a peaceful and spiritual life with lots of connection to the earth. I was then stolen (this differs from Debbie’s point of view as she feels she was sold) and taken to Chaco Canyon where I worked in a group who were a ‘support service’ for the laborers (of which Debbie was a part). I did things like vegetable gardening, took food and water to the laborers, prepared meals, etc. I deplored the conditions they had to work in and the way they were treated. I became more and more homesick for my beloved Mesa Verde and more and more depressed about the situation in Chaco Canyon. I banded together with a small group of people who felt the same and we ran away.
The memory was that it took a long time to prepare to leave and then we had to wait for a time when we would have enough hours or days before they missed us so we would have a good head start. We left during the first six hours of a three day ceremony. There were visitors from far and near and the area was exploding with people and activity. Getting caught meant certain death. I am uncertain if we were trying to find Mesa Verde or not. I do know that our little band, which Debbie was a part, wandered that part of the country for several months until we stumbled upon Bandelier. There, it reminded us of Mesa Verde and we decided to stay as it offered a safe canyon, stream and was a place where we could live without much notice from other bands.
I realized I was sitting in a look out perch that gave a view of the entrance to the canyon as well as the activity of the residence below. I felt I had perched there many a time, watching for any scouts from Chaco that might be looking for us.
As I sat there, following the stream of this insight, a face appeared in the window blocking my view. It was a young woman in her twenties and I initially thought she was my relief person, but snapped back to present day reality when she smiled and said something about this being a safe place to sit for a while as she crawled pass me, pass Debbie and perched herself in the third and only remaining look out window. We all sat there in silence for a long time.
Finally, she said, “I feel like I’ve been here before” at which point both Debbie and I said in unison, “You have!”
I am unsure how long we all three sat there, but when one made a move to leave, we all three did. Being the last to get on the ladder to climb down, and seeing the height, I remember saying something about hard liquor and an air lift. That broke the silence and we all laughed.
We together toured the rest of the ruins, talking, sharing feelings and musing. When we got back to the car park, we sat at a picnic table so she could give her dog some water and share some cookies. We learned that Marilyn came from North Carolina. She had been laid off her job, had a bit of money saved, had wanted to visit Bandelier, Chaco Canyon and Mesa Verde for as long as she could remember. She felt the timing was right, so she packed her sleeping bag, tent and gear, and her beloved dog and headed out to follow her soul’s prodding. Bandiler was the first stop of her journey. We shared with her some of our experience at both places. She, along with us, felt that we had all three been on this trek before. She even stated that she felt she was doing it backwards, but that is the way it was turning out.
As we drove toward home late that afternoon, I popped the tape back in the deck. “This is a great tape, Debbie, what is it?”
Debbie kicked off her shoes, settled back in the seat, and looking straight ahead simply said, “It is by Medwyn Goodall and it is called: Medicine Woman.”
* Foot Notes
1. Since this adventure, some archeologists have come out with what they think is proof of cannibalism in ancient sites very near to Mesa Verde. Although Debbie and I didn’t experience that at Mesa Verde, we did feel like extreme rituals at Chaco Canyon were performed which resulted in the killing of animals and humans.
2. My knowingness of the Kiva we were in at Mesa Verde, told me it was a safe holding space for the physical body, while one could go play in the universe, OBE (Out of body Experience).
3. There is recent speculation that the word Anassazi could also mean (again in Navajo) The Evil Ones.
4. It is believed by the Navajo, Zuni and a few other tribes in the area that the Pueblo Peoples are direct descendants of the Ancient Ones. The daughter of a very wise Chief of the Navajo Nation, some years back, told me that her father told her many years ago that the Pueblo Peoples would neither agree or disagree with that notion. This led him to come to believe that it probably wasn’t so, that they may have once knew of the reasons but remained silent about it.
5. Debbie swears that they were time travelers - she will not be more specific than that. I have played with the notion, myself and feel that there maybe some truth to that feeling.
6. Today, Kivas in the Pueblos are used for ‘spiritual ceremonies’ - the women, to this day, are not allowed to take part or even enter a Kiva. Modern Kivas have high adobe walls around them and are usually located in the center of the Pueblo Village.
7. Marilyn - if you read this, please contact me through the address in my profile. We lost your address and both Debbie and I would like to get in contact with you.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
The Quantum Mechanics of Fear
Fear is an emotion that is felt by the body. Sometimes it starts out as worry which is internal (our minds) and sometimes it starts out from an external source threatening our physical body. No matter how or why it begins, when it is felt, it moves through the body very quickly. It causes certain hormones to be released by our brain that allows us to move quicker and become a little bit physically stronger. These powerful hormones that are released, particularly adrenaline, can and do save lives, but they also become toxic to the body if the body is in a prolonged state of fear. It can cause illness of the body, and the breaking down of relationships, communication and self esteem. It is one of those wonderful double edged swords, or coins with two sides.
The emotion of fear with it’s toxin bearing qualities then starts to seep through the nerve endings of the physical body and is released into the atmosphere as an unseen energy. (This happens with all our emotions, but I will stick with the fear today).
We live in a sea of thought and emotional energy. Our nerve endings pick up this energy and transfer it into our being without much conscious discernment. This is one reason why mass hysteria and group violence happens. It can happen on a lesser scale among family members or on a larger scale which includes very large groups of people. We have seen it happen in large stadiums during sports games, or in countries during times of civil upheaval. You can equate it to a virus, which breeds and is passed onto others until anti-bodies are developed.
If we become aware of the dynamics, we can consciously choose our reaction, possibly even avoid nasty situations, but if we are not aware of it, we can find ourselves in the mists of chaos, anger, or rage and even join in, without ever realizing how we got there.
There is a deeper level to fear and the energy of it and I will call that the quantum mechanics of fear. When fear is festered within us by our emotions, dwelled upon by our minds and released by our bodies, we embark in a co-creative dance with the energies of the universe.
We begin to create the desire of that energy. In other words, we begin to manifest and draw to us the very thing that we fear. (this also happens with other emotions and is the reason prayer is so powerful).
I have a friend who was deathly afraid of spiders. She told me that she was forced to face that fear. Before she faced that fear, she said, she never thought about them - wouldn’t allow herself because when she did think of them and how scary they were, she would always run into one. She said that the fear in her called them to her. She said she found a way to deal with the fear of spiders (another story I might tell at another time) and removed her fear of them. Since then, she said, she seldom sees one. I have noticed that sort of thing within myself. The very thing you don’t want to happen, happens, as if your very thoughts created it. And the interesting thing is: they do!
The quantum mechanics of the emotion fear is that you give it power because of your thoughts. Remember, the ‘universe’ always says ‘yes’. It is unclear on exactly what you desire, so it sticks with the answer 'yes'. It supports us in the only manner it can and it supports the energy which we put out. So, if we put a lot of fear and fearful thoughts into something, you can rest assured it will come to pass.
In these recent days of terror and the abundance of violence, we all need to take a good look at what we fear. We need to find a way of seeing things clearly so we can defuse the fear within ourselves and in others. Fear, at this moment in time, will do us no good because it will paralyze us, it will get us in trouble, it will create something that few of us desire. Fear based creations never produce a win-win outcome.
Fear, like all other emotions, are and can be powerful tools, they are not forced upon us, they are a choice that we make. We choose to feel the way that we feel, we choose how to react to things, we choose our path, just like we choose the road we take to the grocery store or to the gas station. We can choose to overcome and be helpful, or we can choose to be paralyzed by fear. By choosing which emotion we feel and therefore emit out into our stratum, we also choose the outcome of a situation.
There are ways to combat the spiraling of emotions that we don’t consciously desire (read ‘The Shaman’). There are choices, we are not the slaves of our emotions.
This is a time to be consciously aware and responsible for what we are feeling, we want to choose wisely, we want to be completely aware of the choices we make and consider the future outcomes of those choices in our lives and in the lives of others. We want to be responsible participants in this, our country and our world. We must be very clear on the desired outcome that we want with long term future in mind.
- Prissy Hamilton
The emotion of fear with it’s toxin bearing qualities then starts to seep through the nerve endings of the physical body and is released into the atmosphere as an unseen energy. (This happens with all our emotions, but I will stick with the fear today).
We live in a sea of thought and emotional energy. Our nerve endings pick up this energy and transfer it into our being without much conscious discernment. This is one reason why mass hysteria and group violence happens. It can happen on a lesser scale among family members or on a larger scale which includes very large groups of people. We have seen it happen in large stadiums during sports games, or in countries during times of civil upheaval. You can equate it to a virus, which breeds and is passed onto others until anti-bodies are developed.
If we become aware of the dynamics, we can consciously choose our reaction, possibly even avoid nasty situations, but if we are not aware of it, we can find ourselves in the mists of chaos, anger, or rage and even join in, without ever realizing how we got there.
There is a deeper level to fear and the energy of it and I will call that the quantum mechanics of fear. When fear is festered within us by our emotions, dwelled upon by our minds and released by our bodies, we embark in a co-creative dance with the energies of the universe.
We begin to create the desire of that energy. In other words, we begin to manifest and draw to us the very thing that we fear. (this also happens with other emotions and is the reason prayer is so powerful).
I have a friend who was deathly afraid of spiders. She told me that she was forced to face that fear. Before she faced that fear, she said, she never thought about them - wouldn’t allow herself because when she did think of them and how scary they were, she would always run into one. She said that the fear in her called them to her. She said she found a way to deal with the fear of spiders (another story I might tell at another time) and removed her fear of them. Since then, she said, she seldom sees one. I have noticed that sort of thing within myself. The very thing you don’t want to happen, happens, as if your very thoughts created it. And the interesting thing is: they do!
The quantum mechanics of the emotion fear is that you give it power because of your thoughts. Remember, the ‘universe’ always says ‘yes’. It is unclear on exactly what you desire, so it sticks with the answer 'yes'. It supports us in the only manner it can and it supports the energy which we put out. So, if we put a lot of fear and fearful thoughts into something, you can rest assured it will come to pass.
In these recent days of terror and the abundance of violence, we all need to take a good look at what we fear. We need to find a way of seeing things clearly so we can defuse the fear within ourselves and in others. Fear, at this moment in time, will do us no good because it will paralyze us, it will get us in trouble, it will create something that few of us desire. Fear based creations never produce a win-win outcome.
Fear, like all other emotions, are and can be powerful tools, they are not forced upon us, they are a choice that we make. We choose to feel the way that we feel, we choose how to react to things, we choose our path, just like we choose the road we take to the grocery store or to the gas station. We can choose to overcome and be helpful, or we can choose to be paralyzed by fear. By choosing which emotion we feel and therefore emit out into our stratum, we also choose the outcome of a situation.
There are ways to combat the spiraling of emotions that we don’t consciously desire (read ‘The Shaman’). There are choices, we are not the slaves of our emotions.
This is a time to be consciously aware and responsible for what we are feeling, we want to choose wisely, we want to be completely aware of the choices we make and consider the future outcomes of those choices in our lives and in the lives of others. We want to be responsible participants in this, our country and our world. We must be very clear on the desired outcome that we want with long term future in mind.
- Prissy Hamilton
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