Day 3

The sky this morning is filled with raptors, hunting. I have witnessed three times now the harrier food exchange and innumerable times have seen the defense of home space whenever any non-harrier, whether it be raven or vulture or hawk, comes within the airspace of the harrier's nest.

This day is dedicated to Sophia, she who gave me the Pema Chodron book that I hold so dearly that I brought it with me on this quest, she who is about to embark on her own quest – a month-long sitting meditation. If she can do that, I surely have the strength to do these four days without food. So I will conjure her strength today when the demons of fear and self-pity appear.

Last night before dark, before sleep covered me with its generous blanket, I had two visitations by the spirit of Changing Woman. The first was a colibrí, my initial encounter with a hummingbird during this high desert quest. It/she flew to a tree near my circle and landed, sitting, watching. I invited her in, so she zzzmmed to a branch within the circle, the branch nearest to me, and lingered briefly before zzzmming directly overhead, then continuing on her way. This branch was in the east, the direction of wisdom and understanding. The next was a tanager, resplendent in her coat of many colors. The branch she chose was almost equally close. This branch was in the west, the direction which signifies purity and strength. She, too, lingered long enough for me to feel enriched and filled by her spirit before continuing on her way.

We spoke of needing, Changing Woman and I, but what is a need? We need food and water to survive in this body, and I believe that we need love, but we receive it from so many sources. Do we NEED a primary love? Possibly. Maybe the love that we NEED is the one that truly reflects back to us our own divinity, our own pure-light-love that we have forgotten parts of, believing that we are not worthy. That is a love need that I can understand. That is a love need that I can stand under, receiving the blessed rain shower of love drops reminding me that I am worthy, that I am pure. Within that shower runs the river of compassion for others that I seek to strengthen in my own heart. It is my task and my quest, I know, with help from others not only to recognize and empathize with suffering, but also to heal my own wounded self. In this way I need that love that Changing Woman gives me. There is another need that I have found in myself through her – that being the unconditional love that fills my heart. That love (the expression of which is not completely unconditional, I know, because I still have moments of frailty, of jealousy, of fear) transcends any love that I have ever known for any person, man or woman, who has come into my life by choice rather than by birth. The gift that she has given, that I have received from her through this opening of my heart, can never be taken away now that the awareness and experience has happened.

We sit here now, unseen physically by one another, sharing another experience. Perhaps on Friday her vision will not include me. I doubt that. I believe that this time will have strengthened our bond, renewed it because we will see even more clearly the purity and honesty and love that each brings to the other. Is that a need? I am still not sure whether to name it that. But if/when she chooses to go, my love will go with her, and hers will remain with me, within her and within me.

I ask chipmunk to tell me what she knows of suffering, she of the light heart and playful nature, spritely scampering through the junipers, jumping outward onto a limb so thin that it bends backward with her weight, folding her over upside down. She halts her playful search for seeds, waits, blinks several times as though assessing my worthiness to hear her sad tale.

“My mother was stolen from above by hawk wile she was out gathering seeds and nuts to bring back to feed me and my three brothers. She was snatched away screaming while we watched and listened. I will forever remember the pain in her voice. I will forever feel the anguish in my heart that day as her cries faded with distance.

My father disappeared quietly in the night shortly thereafter. No sound came to me in my sleep except, perhaps, the light whisper of owl. My three young brothers, one by one, were ripped and torn away in their inexperienced youthful quest for food, hungry and unaware of the danger that awaited them from both above and below.

I live daily in fear. I am neither strong nor large nor have weapons of defense. Listen! Do you hear that high-pitched wail? I do. Over and over daily I hear my aunts and uncles being taken and shredded while still alive. Soon it will be my time as well. That is what I know of suffering.”

Day 2

I was greeted by helicopter-jet bugs this morning, a squadron of them hovering nearby, instantaneously changing formation at some unheard-by-me signal. I stripped naked and smudged myself and the wheel, giving thanks for protection and for the messages revealed to me in my dreams.

A small knoll in full sun pulled me from my cool shady bower. Surveying the vast, multi-hued landscape stretched out for a hundred miles in each direction, my gaze lowered to the trailhead, noticing with chagrin a large truck, a dog, people. Fear entered my heart: Rangers! We parked wrong, didn't fill in the trailhead name, were on a closed, road, using fire for ceremony. They're coming to shut down the quest. I got behind a boulder and retreated to the bower. Fear subsided somewhat in my circle and reduced down to simply the fear of encountering people and being forced to talk. I decided to ignore it (the fear) & them, putting my gear in order, reducing the visual size of the campsite to diminish the chance of them stumbling upon it, took any ID and keys along with the daypack and water and.....stopped.

For on the ridge across the way was a Dall sheep. A bighorn. I took in his majesty for 10-15 minutes until he disappeared over the other side. Then I slowly began my hike to the top of the escarpment that would afford me a view to both east and west. The top of the Hart Mountain range.

Arriving at the first ridge where I had stopped the day before, I started northward along the shade of the junipers until I came to the departure point for the next leg. Here I sat on a log and eased further into dream time. I became aware of the beautiful white harrier gliding, soaring, searching, resting aloft, riding the wind, a mouse dangling from its talons. Its mate came gliding up from below, and he descended towards her, dropping the mouse from some 10' – 15' above. She nimbly snatched it out of the air, returning along the high meadow to the nest as he ascended to resume watch. A raven entered the harrier's airspace, flying towards me, cawing. The harrier pursued, drove it away, and came to soar slowly above me, checking me out until, satisfied, he resumed his lofty duties.

When he left, I headed for the ridge, easing my way through ever denser meadows of paintbrush and lupine, penstamon and pennyroyal until, just below the juniper grove at the top of the final ridge, a lush, full-flowered continuous swath of something (wild cyanothus maybe?) presented a tapestry, unbroken except for a single sheep trail, exuding an aroma, a wild, lovely fragrance that enveloped me once I was upwind.

This hike today is dedicated to my dad, whose slow, short, painful footsteps I echo here. I think of his mantra: “Growing old ain't for sissies.” I think of the reasons he has chosen that path of continuance. I consider the bits and pieces that have shaped him through his life: a mother full of prejudicial bile and frontierswoman hardness of heart, military training and strictness and structure, and war. I forgive him the physical abuse heaped upon me. I forgive him the constant harangue with my mother who harangued him back so often that that is all I remember of conversation in our household.

This hike is also for her, my mom, who lies right now at this moment with a new pacemaker setting cadence for a heart that has always shown love to me. The beauty of this place, these small, magnificent events that have unfolded and been revealed to me in such abundance and quietude are dedicated to her.

And of course, every encounter with fragrance and blossom and flor floods into mind the woman who brought me to this magical place to undertake this difficult journey. She, Changing Woman, enters my thoughts more often than food, than comfy chairs, or any of the time-eating emails and jobs and games that I use to occupy the space of time, although a nice comfy chair probably comes in ahead of food for second place. ;-)

Dealing with gnats has been more difficult than dealing with hunger. Mid-day they swarmed and I covered completely, lying still until I fell asleep. But they and the heat woke me, until I was foced to be constantly on the move, choosing first to go to the buddy pile where I found a heart shaped by stones. Her love infused me once again. And her quest gift saved me from the gnats: the sarong tied around my forehead, neck, and ears may have given me the grace and sanity to maintain the quest when I had thoughts of giving it up due to gnats. Aaargh! But I have survived another day, witnessing many small wonders which will probably shape my dreams.

Day 1 - 1^st day after Solstice

I woke before Sandy, arose, walked into the woods, found myself surrounded by birdsong. When I returned, she greeted me with exuberance and almost coffee....water on to boil and filters ready to spoon. We discussed the plan, readied our packs, and started walking toward the outcropping where we would sanctify our intentions before heading off in our separate directions. We would return separately each day to leave notice that each was well by leaving some small sign that had not been there previously – some feather or rock or familiar shape.

Raven called me here to this high juniper bower. Robin joined me to remind me of kinship and friendship. Harrier soared high, watching, decrying any intruder. Woodpecker left his artful calling card, depicting the circle I have copied in making my medicine wheel around my camp, asking for help in four different ways as well as four different directions. The voices of flies and bees and the occasional mosquito sing chorus with the wind. I have smudged and spread tobacco and said prayers. Now I sit.

I saw two sparrows mating. The female had nesting material in her beak. The male came down from above and behind, so she presented, leaning forward, tail up, and he jumped on. And again.

I saw a chipmunk in a juniper tree, carrying a seed in its mouth. When he caught my eye, he dropped the seed and scurried away chittering.

I saw another, sitting on a branch in the sunshine, moving its tail with every chitter, easily more than 100-200 tail bobs per minute continuously for several minutes until a magpie flew stealthily into a tree nearby, causing the chipmunk to vacate premises.

Next the robin approached to a branch some 12' away. Another similar but smaller bird flew in to the same branch, but this one had no color on its breast. The robin tried to feed something into its mouth, but the smaller one dropped the food to the ground. The robin flew/hopped straight down to retrieve it and tried again. Another missed exchange. Another retrieval. The third exchange was successful – gulp, swallow, fly away together to find more and try again.

I joined brother chipmunk and sister sparrow to enjoy the last warm rays of the day, soaking them into my night clothes to find the extra heat to warm me through the cold night. I awoke several times, once to see an owl fly in almost to my circle, only to wheel around and return to his perch in a different juniper.