After I experienced Marion's Garden, I learned it had been years in the making. As I reflect on the events that have unfolded
following my first visit to The Sanctuary
in March 2011, the pieces seem to have fallen into place with ease and
grace when I surrendered in full trust.
In fact, the Divine messages were only able to be heard when I surrendered
into being.
My residency in Sedona, Arizona, began in July 2010 following several visits over the previous two years. I arrived knowing that my soul had been called to Sedona and that spirit had provided me with a stable place to dwell for six weeks. At the conclusion of the six weeks, my heart continued to be nourished by the red rocks of Sedona where I had many opportunities to surrender. It was not uncommon as day turned to night that I would ask spirit the pivotal question, "Where do you want me tonight?"
In
the silence of listening, the still small voice within could be heard. The response ranged from in a tent on the
land, on a mat under the stars, on the couch of a friend, to in a comfortable
bed in a hotel or timeshare. Months
passed in this place of trust. The
longest I seemed to stay in any one place was a week. The journey of surrender created a deep
desire within. I pleaded with spirit,
"Please. Can I please have a place
for thirty days? Just thirty days. That's all I'm asking." I was tired of living moment by moment and my human needed some structured security.
I
was still paying a mortgage on a beautiful home in Oregon and the cost of rent
in Sedona was high, so, I searched in the realm of what I thought I could
afford--a room in a shared house. I was
mired down with a strong need for some stability in my life. As my weariness grew, my logical mind took over. I spent hours each day searching for a place
to live. I frantically pursued all
possibilities. Craig's List. Bulletin boards. Friends.
Friends of Friends.
Acquaintances. Days and weeks passed
consumed with my seeking. Just when it
felt like I had found a place, it would slip through my fingers.
In
early March 2011, I stood in the kitchen of the time share unit that I was
about to check out of and made a passionate plea to the Divine, "I see why
I am here and I know that I am not to do this alone. I'm in Sedona. Bring them to me!" I stated with fierce
determination and clinched fists. Soon
thereafter, I was scheduled to meet a friend of a friend who was looking for a
roommate. At 8:30 am, just thirty
minutes before our meeting, I received a call from the homeowner. She shared that her friends had been caught
in LA after the tsunami and were unable to return to their home in Japan. They would be staying with her for an
undetermined amount of time, so the room she had was no longer available.
Spirit
had been talking to me, but I refused to listen. Instead, I was working hard trying to make
things happen to find a room to rent. Finally,
after a friend said, "Maybe you should just stop searching," I
surrendered. Following the path of least
resistance and my desire for resident stability, I put up my tent on a quiet
spot on the creek just outside Sedona and called in home.
A couple days later, several young people who I will refer to as Masters arrived to Sedona called by some unknown reason to drop what they had been doing and converge in the Red Rocks of Sedona. They, too, had listened to the still small voice within. Apparently, my passionate plea worked. An exhilarating and exhausting experiential wisdom lab unfolded with a beautiful group of connected souls. There was no curriculum and no planned course statements and no classroom walls to define the learning environment. No standardized tests. No stated common core. And no written rules. I quickly learned that the knowledge I received from my graduate studies in education held little value in this sacred Chalice of Learning that blossomed and grew with the opening of each heart.
The
connections ran deep as opportunities to empower revealed themselves in the
present moment with each breath we took.
The dance between student and teacher was one of grace as the roles ebbed
and flowed in the connection of our open hearts. The tent I had placed on the land became the
temporary home for several young masters.
And I was gifted a studio apartment to myself for a week. This allowed me the space I needed to rest
between the spirit guided interactions I was to share and the space I was to
hold for these young masters. The group began
with two groups of two and grew to a total of seven open hearts aged 19 to 29 from
all over the world that included a young Japanese man who had arrived to the US
just days before the tsunami. After
eleven days, this conscious collective dispersed and departed Sedona for their
chosen classrooms. As I said my
goodbyes, I realized that I, too, had learned.
Be Love. Let Go.
And Let God rang loudly in my awareness.
I no
longer had thirty days in Sedona before I departed for Oregon to spend Easter
with my family. A one-week stay in my
time share opened up in Pinetop, Arizona.
I drove nearly three hours to higher ground for a time for rest and
rejuvenation. Throughout the week, I
spoke on the phone with a couple of the young masters as they shared the
classrooms where spirit had guided them--Los Angeles, Lake Tahoe, and Mt. Shasta.
Just
before leaving Sedona for Pinetop, I received an email from a friend about a
home in the Chapel area for rent. She
knew that I had a resonance with the Chapel area in Sedona and thought of me
when the posting appeared on a private list serve. Somewhere in between my tent in Sedona and my
bed in Pinetop, I sent an email to the owner and she replied giving me her
phone number and asking that I call her so that we could talk. I did not make the call.
Instead, I returned to Sedona with less than a week to go before my intended return trip to Oregon. Just as I pulled into town, I received an email that went something like this. "I think I may have given you the wrong phone number. Please call me about the house for rent at ###-###-####." In that moment, I heard the still small voice within with crisp clarity, "Call her now." So I did.
During
our conversation, the same voice said, "Get the address and drive by the
house." So I did. As I pulled up to the house, I heard,
"Have the owner contact the renters to schedule a time so you can see the
inside." Within the hour I was touring
the home and visiting with the current tenants.
I spent two hours with two beautiful souls. I resonated with the house that would be
vacant the first week of May, but I still didn't know what I was going to do as
I was heading back to Oregon in less than a week and didn't know when I would
be returning to Sedona. During our
visit, I learned that one of the tenants had been an upstairs resident in the Sedona
home I provided kitty care for a week the previous summer.
I
left the house. The daylight had turned
to darkness during my visit. I drove the
gravel road to my creek side tent. I
parked and put my headlamp on so I could follow the short path to my tent. When I arrived to the site, I found the site had
been ransacked and my tent and sleeping bag gone. All that remained was my sleeping mat and
angel pillow that had been strewn in the bushes. Emotions of loss resurfaced as I gathered
what remained of my Sedona home. When I
sat in my car, my head fell onto the steering wheel in despair. In complete, woeful surrender, I cried,
"What do you want me to do now?" to which I heard, "Get your
butt back to Oregon and take care of what you need to." My mind came into question. My drives to Oregon had always begun in
daylight and I had a 10 am appointment the next morning. I heard, "You will have clarity
following your appointment tomorrow morning."
So
at nearly 11 pm on a busy spring Saturday night in Sedona, I headed out in
search of a hotel room for the night.
Every hotel I passed radiated "No Vacancy." It was obvious that I was not going to be
able to find a room on my own, so I asked for help. The question I had grown accustomed to asking
came forward. "Where do you want me
now?" To which I heard, "Head towards The Village."
My
guidance led me to the Wild Flower Inn.
It was late. I was tired. I expected that when I opened the door to the
lobby that I must have been guided to the Inn because they had the room I
needed. When I inquired, the desk clerk
shared that they were booked solid along with every other hotel in Sedona. But, he shared, he had just learned that the Kings
Ransom had a last minute cancellation. The
kind man helped me to secure the room and I was able to check-in at the Kings
Ransom for a warm night's rest.
After
my appointment the next morning, I was clear.
A friend agreed to store some of my things until I returned from
Oregon. She asked me if I was sure I
wanted to travel as there was a huge snow storm expected." I knew that I needed to leave soon and I was
being guided to take the southern route.