Emotions running high the past couple days. Body aching to find a opening for saddness to escape. Deep pain, letting go, moving on. I am delicate. Acceptance. And strong. Patience. A time of water, cleansing, healing the emotional body, the mountain that teaches of these things.
Doko'ooslid traslates as "was adorned with abalone shell." The Same Holy People replanted the Western Mountain in the Forth World the same as the North, East and South Mountain except that they dressed and decoreated this mountain with abalone shell to create understanding of our social unity and life (lina). Doko'ooslid was tied to the earth with a sunbeam by the Holy People. These are the holy people told to live in the mountain.
Doko'ooslid sustains the highest peak in Arizona at approximately 12,000 feet. This time of year with the ice and snow, few people climb, and even fewer attempt reaching the peak. I left Flagstaff for the sacred mountain at 10:30am and was unable to begin my walk until nearly 1pm. My directions were unclear, finding myself out by Sunset Crater, returned to downtown Flagstaff and took off toward the Crand Canyon. The entrace to Mount Humphreys is called Snow Bowl. The turn off was much closer than I thought and I sped of miles down the road. My mishaps stopped me near a small, odd shaped church. A couple sat inside holding each other, gazing out the rear, glass wall into the vast landscape.
Down the road. A red jeep, broken down, roadside, the hood propped up. Car trouble. Pulling over to ask where to find Snow Bowl, the guys pointed me back from which I came. They were two Frenchmen, having rented a jeep in Las Vegas, were now flustered with electrical problems. Or so they thought. I said I had jumper cables. They were doubtful, but we gave it a try...Viola! Fix em up. I spit off a little French for my own pleasure. They spoke English well. So alas, I pull into the parking lot of the Western Mountain! Empty ski lifts sloped down the mountain; not quite enough snow for the season to begin. There has also been controversy surrounding the artificial production of snow. The water being used is coming from recycled city water - i.e. sewer sludge. Many locals, particularly natives, are concerned with the detriment of environmental pollution.
Emotion still tender, but by the time I was swallowed by the mountain, I was more integrated. Packed up my sacred objects, Florida water, down jacket, hat, gloves, trail mix, what little water I had left, and the water offering I had collected the previous day from Eldon Springs - a brother mountain. Sidenote: When I went to Eldon Springs, I sat by a Ponderosa Pine to meditate. As I closed my eyes, healing my heart, the emotions, bees began to emerge. There were about 6 or 7 that crawled all over me, buzzing in my face, crawling over the bottle of water I collected. I asked them not to harm me, but to help me integrate and heal. Fifiteen minutes later they continued to work. I was ready to go, so I asked them to please leave and I thanked them for their assistance. Immediately they left, and two reamined on the water bottle as I carried it to the car. Then just one bee. Then none. I felt better.
Back to the mountain...I study the trail map. To my concern, it was unclear if the easy-hiking "Kachina Trail" is really on Mount Humphreys or simply nearby. What to do. I decided it was better to hike just a little ways on the "treaturous" Humphreys Peak Trail and make my offering on the proper mountain. With nearly an empty stomach, I begin the climb at 10,000 feet. Birds call, there is already snow on the ground from the getgo, but softened from the minimal rays illuminating portions of trail. Frequent stops. Cold air in my lungs. Gaspping for breath. I hike for 45mins. A guys from the area, but has been living in Chicago, emerged on the scene. We ended up walking the entire day together. Both Kenny and I were looking forward to the solo hike, but with the weather conditions, altitude, and test of enduarance, we banned together. He was not very spiritual, which changed the value of the journey. But I didn't question. Now I understand that is was more about social unity than anything else. Mountain teaches. Off we go, at a rapid pace, twisting around ridgeback after ridgeback. Higher and higher. He ledc the way. I thought about emotions. Women rely on men too much. But this walk reminded me that we must take responsibility for oursleves, process emotions alone, and then can be guided by the male. We must always digest our own experiences, but are meant to return to the stability of social solidarity. We stop only once. Expansive view!
My thighs burn, breath short but we carry on. Two hours later, a sign appearsmarking 11,400 feet. We break soon after, share a snack. I'm short on water. A crow swoops low again and again. Circling above. I signal back with delight. The guy was creeped out by the crow. I thought it was strange. We move on, talking with the few who are on their way down. Some went to the top others didn't attempt. They said it was really steep, icy, cold, windy, and nothing to hold on to. The altitude began to hit us and our legs wobbled, focused not to misstep. We felt weak, but I came with much optimism. We knew it was impossible to make it to the peak since we began so late in the day. I knew we would have done it otherwise, and quickly shook off out dissapointment. As late afternoon subdued the sun, it became cold. My toes numb. We surrendered a mile from the peak. He ate, and I offered tobacco, florida water, prayer, and the spring water that I brought. I offered Kenny some tobacco to add his own prayer if he wanted. The setting sun hit the rocks and mountains below. Illuminating everything with warmth and beauty. Took photos. A feeling came over me. Time to go...I knew that the last ten to fifteen minutes to the car would be in the dark night. Neither of us carried a flashlight. "Come on!" I led the way back down. The thickening ice, stones, sticks, and steepness prevented us from going to quickly, although I wasted no time. Kenny and I thanked each other for the company. He admited to having fear of getting stuck out there alone and dying, like he read in a classic novel, the author having escaped my memory. I found that interesting. I am not afraid of being alone in nature. I do not feel alone. I feel protected. So the sun setted fast, and it was a long way down. The ice became increasingy invisible. I indicated which steps were slick either by word or by falling. Both of us were slipping and catching oursleves gracefully, even if fully slammed down - ass to ice. I commented how falling on ice is like being tossed by ocean waves. You cannot resist the element of water. Go with it, you will not get hurt, but resist, and injury occurs. Same with emotions. Roll with it, they reslease. Resist, and they are stored away, toxifying the organs. Frozen water teaches the way flowing water does.
Thank God for my rakau giving me stability, strength, and way to poke at the ice. Darkness filled the forest as we enter the lower regions where the trees grow densely and light is blocked from the trail. The softened snow now frozen. I feel the pressure. Faster faster. We cannot negotiate this trial in the dark. Only one third of the moon tonight. Not quite enough. We are silent, our hearts beating faster, and I can almost hear our minds aloud so focused saying, "Here, here, ok, rock, slippery, here, here, faster, dark, here, here." We direct our feet. Only a few colors spark between trees as we finally emerge onto the open trail without snow, out of the forest. I was tired. But also glad we were the last ones up there and came back hidden behind the unknown veil of night. I led us back to our cars. I gave Kenny a hug. He was stiff. We waved, smiled, and took of on our warm cars. My fingers and toes thawing. So tired, my muscles stressed. Emotions settled, cleansed. I return to Tharon and Andrea's. Cook dinner. Watch Heroes. Bed. The night still with me, the mountain a unique, unexpected expedition. Happy.
Lady Moon, Venus, and a thread of light speeding by...
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