After the Rabbit Stick training, Anasazi invited me to do a trial week out in the wilderness with the young clients.
The day before going out into the backcountry, I went to meet a friend that had been a previous trailwalker for lunch. Over lunch they shared war stories from the field, times they felt incredibly alive while being of service, as well as times in which they had to ward off bears from entering the campsite to protect the YoungWalkers.
As I was driving back home, an uncontrollable wave of jitters filled my senses and I had to stop the car to purge on the side of the road. It was as if I was purging my fears and anxieties that the uncertainty of the future had charged me with.
My mind was racing with the possible scenarios I would potentially face while I was out in the field. My nervousness made my heart race and stomach uneasy. I was stepping into the unknown, the fertile void, the dark blanket of a cocoon that would envelop me and prepare me to become the version of myself I had always dreamt to be.
The next day I woke up before the break of dawn to drive down to Mesa to meet with the Anasazi folk. As I was driving, I went past mountains covered in ancient Saguaro cacti, Bloody Basin road, Talking Stick Way, and Alma School road. When I saw the sign for Alma School Road the hairs on my neck stood up and my eyes widened. It was as if the universe was reminding me that I had come down to Earth to learn, to soften, and make my heart field expand, and for my circle of compassion to grow. I took it as an affirmation that I was on the right path, that Anasazi would be the school for my Alma to grow.
We met in the parking lot of a hotel in the hot, suffocating city of Mesa. Before driving off to the Tonto National Forest, we gathered around to participate in a sacred circle. A sacred circle is a moment for quiet contemplation, prayer, meditation or a moment for nothingness, to stop and breathe.
The fractals of my identity seemed to be dissipating into the air, I had to anchor myself through observation and breath and the medicine of the present moment to prevent the incessant chit-chatter of my fearful brain from over-running my thoughts and preventing me from fully experiencing the reality of my environment.
During sacred circle I gave gratitude for the fact I had found myself in a community that offers that kind of space for quiet contemplation and meditation so I could connect with my inner self and compose my Self.
I also repeated the following affirmations:
“I am making space for creator’s words to speak through me,
I am a direct channel for creator’s love and light,
I am a channel for divinity to flow through me and to spread to mankind.”
After everyone was done having their sacred moment, we faced each other and set our right hands in the center of the circle to swirl it up and just as a team will chant before any game, we collectively did so too by shouting, “sure love ya!”
It felt really cheesy but at the same time very comforting to be part of a community where expressing this kind of love to your co-workers was normal and appreciated. I felt warm and welcomed.
Driving into the Tonto National Forest was a whole experience in itself. There was nothing but dirt roads that serpentined their way deeper and deeper into the desert which made the vehicle and the passengers inside jolt. I felt as if I was being catapulted, shaken, and pushed out of the womb for a new sense of self to emerge. One that I would come to discover in the bosom of the forest.
When we arrived at our destination we circled around laminated maps pointing North to study the trek we were to embark upon for the week. We got our gear from out of the vehicles and were given very vague directions as to where we should meet our bands. Nonetheless, I felt comfortable and secure as I was going into the band with two very skilled and experienced wilderness guides that knew the trail like the palm of their own hands.
We were assigned to “Earth Band” which I would soon come to discover meant a group of 5 boys between the ages thirteen to seventeen. As I walked into the band, I felt I was part of Peter Pan's league of lost boys. The boys were nestled around the fire, some of their faces covered in soil, some cooking out of their stainless steel cups, others just layed down on the ground waiting for their new food packs which we were carrying. Little did I know those earthy strangers were to become like family to me within a week.
They eagerly introduced themselves to me and were incredibly kind. They taught me their favorite recipes, how to make arrowheads, and how to tie my pack extra tight to prevent my pack from coming undone during the hikes. They were ridiculously profane at times and unbelievably sweet and emotionally mature at other times, you could tell they were tied up between the people they once were and the people they were meant to be.
Wilderness holds space for all (phases) of you. Wilderness is a threshold that holds space for that “in-between place” of the person you were in the past and the person you’re becoming. That’s a sacred process in itself. Wilderness is a holy temple of twigs, bones, and decay. The land, the fungi, and the soil know, decay is an imperative process for organisms, cells, and beings to be birthed anew. I knew that as I was holding space for the YoungWalkers, the forest that surrounded me would be holding space for my own process too, and that very thought filled me with the strength, peace, and humility I needed to go with courage into the week and into the wild.
That week we hiked through dry river beds with rocks that looked like they belonged on planet Mars, we climbed up Hog Mountain and walked like goats down the fingers of a canyon to reach down to Cherry creek. We slept on sand and underneath the great blanket of stars, as we don’t have tents. We encountered scorpions, snakes, tarantulas, and sighted falcons. We didn’t bother them and they didn’t bother us as we all coexist and share the desert, it is our belonging place.
It felt sacred to walk upon the same land the ancient ones once did
It felt holy to gather water and drink from the same source as all other four-legged beings drank from
I felt connected as if there was an invisible web stringing me and all other beings that dwelled in the desert together, all-dancing, and rejoicing to the same beat of the drum of our hearts.
La Ñapa
I share with you a Spanglish letter I wrote to my love during my first week out in the wilderness with Anasazi:
The wilderness has been like a mirror for me, reflecting back my own process, through signs, symbols, that appear within the landscape as well as with the medicine animals’ presence brings forth. My eyes are now always peeled - looking for the signs nature reveals to communicate with me. I’m coming home to my senses, my animal senses, and my sense of belonging in this wild world.
If you’re still here, thank you for reading and witnessing me. I know I’m supposed to be writing a newsletter but sometimes It feels as if I am writing a book as my fingers won’t stop typing. So thank you for bearing with me and bearing witness to the beauty and chaos of creation.
until next time,
peace and blessings
and may the forest be with you,
Moonsong Monarch
ps. If you yearn to go to Alma School, if you want to live part-time in the woods with the Anasazi and hold space for teenagers dealing with depression, anxiety, stress, or just trying to discover who they want to be - you should check out Anasazi’s next Rabbit Stick training on Feb 8th to become a trailwalker!
bellisimo <3
This is beautiful Reet! Thanks for sharing