Sunday, February 4, 2018

Marian's Garden - Planting The Seed

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.



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