“But my gemstones won’t be thoroughly cleansed by then,” I said.
“You won’t need the gemstones for this part of the journey. Only the stones you found during your hike.”
I felt out of control but didn’t care. “Okay, I’ll be there.”
🗲🗲🗲
“Did you bring your marker stones?” he asked.
“Sure did.”
“How about your journal?”
“Yep.”
“Good.” He grabbed a small bag from the back of his truck. “Let’s go.”
As we followed a narrow trail that zigzagged and snaked, ascended and descended, Ben clued me in on the journey I was about to take. “Today, you’ll experience the first of four paths of the Medicine Wheel. It can take months, years, even a lifetime, to complete them all.” He stopped and studied my face in a way that brought no discomfort. “I want this clear from the start. The Medicine Wheel, as a mirror to your inner self, can’t be explored in a rush. You need time to absorb the qualities each direction has to offer, which means you set your own pace.”
I nodded, wondering if Ben meant to warn me that the walk could be disappointingly slow and that patience, which I often lacked, would be crucial.
Ben led me into a circular clearing, smooth as a pitcher’s mound. Trees and shrubs blocked the wind and created a climate of seclusion, comfort, and safety. “The tasks I’m about to give you are meant to help you perceive, comprehend, and be more fully aware of your life purpose. Skip any of them and you’ll miss out. Important lessons are learned in each direction, each building on the last.”
“I’ll do exactly what you tell me to,” I said, and then caught my breath, remembering how very good I was at following other people’s instructions. With this thought, came doubt. How could I believe, even for a minute, that performing a bunch of tasks in an outdoor circle would help me perceive, let alone comprehend, my life purpose?
“Don’t expect too much right away,” Ben said.
I looked at him bleakly, wanting to tell him that I expected nothing and that maybe I shouldn’t be here and that this wasn’t real. In the past, I mocked people attempting to find themselves in this way, calling them “Lost Souls” and “New-Agers.” In my mother’s youth, they were dubbed “Hippies” and “Flower Children.” What made the search acceptable now, here in the woods with Ben? “What if nothing happens?”
“This isn’t a test,” Ben said. “If nothing else, appreciate the sense of being part of something mysterious, something that’s hard to come by in our skeptical and technology-driven world.”
“Is this a form of meditation?”
“The end result of the first path is for you to awaken.”
“So, this is only the beginning?”
“The beginning and the end. Remember, the Medicine Wheel is a circle. On the other hand, if you’re asking if this is the beginning of your walk, the answer is yes. Your first step will be in the direction of the East, the direction of far-sightedness, illumination, and clarity, where you’ll observe through the eyes of the soul and seek a vision of your own true purpose. Now, show me your markers.”
I lifted the stones from my pouch.
“When working in the easterly direction, you’ll sit with your back to the East so you can align yourself with the flow of cosmic forces rather than confront them. Let’s begin by putting your green stone in the center of your circle.”
Go with the flow, I thought as I placed my green stone in the middle of my wheel.
“Now, put the yellow stone in the East.”
I walked to the eastern point of my circle and put down my stone.
“No. Make the circle wider.”
I moved my rock out a foot.
“Okay, now, put the black stone in the West, the white one in the North, and the red one in the South.”
As I did so, he continued, “Each stone acts like a switch to trigger a response in you. Try to see your circle as the floor of an invisible dome and your directional stones as the outermost points of conduits running along that floor to the stone in the middle. Cosmic forces will flow along these invisible lines to the green stone in the center, which is also the center of your being. Ready?”
I nodded.
Ben brought out a stick, which, he explained, was made of sage, heather, and cedar, and stuck it into the ground. “Before you do any work with the Medicine Wheel, you’ll need to perform a cleansing to get rid of negative energies and help open your inner ears. Do you know what I mean by inner ears?”
“Dr. Mendez talked about the ears that hear inner dialogue and can also experience special insights into other realms of existence.”
“Which may include telepathic messages from unknown sources, as you’ve already discovered.” Ben lit the stick and fanned it with a feather until it began to smoke. Then he directed the smoke toward me. “Don’t worry, the smoke won’t hurt you.” He handed me the feather. “Keep fanning the smoke in your direction. Imagine it surrounding you and penetrating your body.”
When I’d done as he had instructed, Ben said, “This is called smudging.” He showed me how to smudge all the directions of my Medicine Wheel, including the above and below, then extinguished the stick, picked up the smudging tools, and handed them to me. “Yours for future cleansings.” He smiled at my thoughtful expression. “Given time, you’ll discover the presence of your higher self and the energies of the Great Mystery that surround and flow through you.”
I tried to make room in my mind and heart for the mysterious energies he spoke of, and maybe in part, I succeeded, if the peace and contentment building inside were anything to go by.
“I jotted down what you need to do next,” Ben said, “so I can get out of the way. You’ve got to be alone for your discoveries.” He handed me a scrap of paper with some hand-written notes. “Follow these steps, then write whatever comes to you in your journal and move to the center of the wheel to rebalance yourself.”
After Ben had disappeared into the scrub and trees, I read his notes. They directed me to take off my shoes and socks. I re-read the instructions, hoping I’d misunderstood. It was early yet—and cold. I shivered at the very thought of baring my feet.
However, I hadn’t misread a word. Within minutes, the toes of my right foot were testing the ground. The sensation was pleasant, the earth warm and inviting.
With Ben’s notes as my guide, I stood, faced east, and stretched out my arms. “Grandfather Sun, please guide me in my quest.” I wondered if I should be sensing something besides an empty ache, then referred back to Ben’s instructions. Sit, facing west. I forced out all thoughts of failure. A link would be made.
Eventually, I fell into a meditative state.
My hometown of Menlo Park came to mind, the epicenter of the information age, a part of Silicon Valley, the brave new world in technological advances. Atomic scientists at Menlo Park’s Stanford Linear Accelerator were able to dissect the tiniest particles of physical matter, yet they had no answers to the questions that were dearest to my heart and necessary for my sanity. Instead, here I sat, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees, weeds, ticks, and poison oak—searching. Why couldn’t I find wholeness in my hometown? Why didn’t I have power over my life?
My thoughts leaped to my computer and the energy and travel that took place when I connected to the Internet. A path would lead from my computer to a machine maintained by my Internet service provider, then leap to a computer connected to a regional network, then to a major backbone network. From there the path would step down until it reached the computer that hosted the information for which I was searching. And all this traveling would occur invisibly, and within seconds.
In my Medicine Wheel, I, too, was surrounded by invisible energy, with my brain serving as the computer terminal, my feet the ground, and my arms the antenna. My entire body was equipped with receptors to sense the ever-changing environment around me: the warmth of the sun, the texture of the earth, and the shifting hue of the sky. If this was possible, why wasn’t it also possible for me to hear voices, or, for that matter, see spirits from another dimension?
Maybe, my recent experiences weren’t abnormal after all. Maybe Dr. Mendez’s concept of the universe as a hologram meant that we might be living in something like a computer program, where the stuff we touched and felt was mostly empty space and that reality as we consciously experienced it was not real.
Maybe I was just breaking through.
From close behind me, I heard a song that battered me with raw emotion. The song broke into a long, painful wail, followed by silence—a silence that seemed appropriate somehow, as if all God’s creatures felt and shared the pain. I made no effort to think. I was here to see, accept, and heal. Not to understand.
I visualized a gate leaning in desolation and partially covered by the twists and tangles of vegetation. It stood ajar—an open invitation to my seeking mind. I drew nearer. Scrolls of intertwined ironwork, depicting vines with clusters of grapes, adorned this once proud-standing gate. Two angels, supporting a wreath, knelt in the gate’s center. Inside the wreath lay a lamb on an altar, above which hung a chipped and mildewed cross on a background of faded blue.
The gate beckoned, Enter, and in my dream state, I did just that. A faint difference in the height of vegetation indicated where a path had once led. A path meant a destination, possibly a new discovery. My usual blinders dissolved and my mind experienced a new sense of freedom. If this spelled danger, so be it. Fear could no longer restrain me.
A statue blocked my path—one I’d seen before. The one in the architectural antique store that had reminded me of St. Peter, with his cloak wrapped furtively around him. Before I could explore further, the vision disappeared. I opened my eyes, grabbed my journal and pen, and began to write.
Words flow like blood from a fresh wound, but instead of resulting in weakness, new strength grows inside of me, making room for hope. I try to go forward without fear, but my head is full of shadows. Only when doubt strikes, when the soul is exposed and laid bare, do the shadows make themselves known. Only then do I shiver and peer into the darkness and sense their eyes upon me.
I crawled to the center of the Medicine Wheel, stretched out on the earth, and rested my head on my arms.