Saturday, July 23, 2016

Are You On Any Medication?

Jung's collective unconscious has always held a special place in my heart. It helps me find my way "home" each evening and I credit it with introducing me to my two most recent lovers.

So when I "heard' the voice tell me to stop and hike this canyon I immediately looked around for somewhere to park. But there was no good place. Then, a road appeared going off in the direction of the canyon. "Take THIS road," it said. I did. 

We (Phoebe & I)  wound through the juniper-pinon hills and found nothing of interest. But at a junction, a T, to be precise, I noticed someone had cut donuts in the dirt. Continuing on after a few miles we decided to return to the highway. As I passed the donuts I again "heard:"  Take THAT road. It was a small track with a tall center and steep slope (remember trigonometry?). Giving Mr. Stomach an encouraging heft, I reminded him we now have 4WD.

Two wash-crossings and a hairy-scramble over some fierce protruding rocks later, we pulled off into a large area that invited parkers. I got out and immediately recognized the canyon I'd seen from the highway.

And there was even a trail! It led to a large pouroff where, as I approached, I had the sensation of "presence."  Then, at the edge, I saw the buildings under the overhang.

I've "felt" sites before. Sometimes it's clear, like this one. Other times it's barely more than a vaguery. 

The most memorable occurred near To'Hajiilllee-He, New Mexico over 30 years ago. One El and I drove west, took the highway north off the freeway and followed a two-track into the desert. While she settled into a book I clambered up the nearby hillside. As I climbed I thought about how I'd been hiking like this for over twenty years but had never found an arrowhead. Moments later, as I pulled myself up onto the top ledge I saw, almost beneath my hand, a purple point. About an inch in length, it's color is unique. It's shape is somewhat broad and it's a little thicker than usual (kinda like me now). It's not the finest example of knapping I've seen, but it is the only purple one.

That was before the ban on collecting. It's a treasured possession; if the house was burning it'd be one one of the things to save.

This place emerged from a much louder "voice." But it's "presence" has a recognizable feel. Somehow I *knew* it was here.

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