A State of (Heart)Mind
I’ve been back from Sedona for a week now. After several attempts to convey the stories of the people and events, and then the feeling, I’ve come to realize that there aren’t adequate words to describe any of it. Suffice to say I’m not the same person I was before the trip. Or maybe I’m more myself than I’ve been in a long time because of it.
I recently took one of those astrocartography quizzes online. It matched me with Chicago as well as some other places I don’t remember so I didn’t give it much thought afterwards but there’s something to being connected to a place. Maybe it’s from a previous life, or from ancestral DNA (which I believe are connected anyway) but I get a feeling when just looking for places to visit and then validation when I’m there. It’s definite, I either belong there or I don’t. No middle ground.
That feeling doesn’t change logistics, however. I love New York City. I love Sedona. I love Santa Fe. I probably can’t afford to live in any of those places. I also love New Orleans, Albuquerque, and Tucson, all of which are more possible.
Everything I’d read about Sedona was true and understated. It’s more beautiful, magical, and mystical than words can describe. It healed my heart and soul in ways that I didn’t know I needed.
Sedona makes you work for it, however. It’s a two-hour drive from Phoenix and everything is at the top of a rock slope at the end of a rocky dirt path surrounded by things that can kill you (and I live in Texas so I know about things that can kill you). The weather in early September is deceptively mild until it becomes broiling hot, so water planning is essential. Carry more than you think you need.
But that’s not really what I wanted to write about either. I have travel stories, as one collect when travelling and I may write those just to preserve the memories for myself, but I want to attempt to convey what it felt like. The feeling of belonging, of returning as opposed to visiting for the first time.
As is the case trying to describe the beauty, words fail. Only the feeling in my happy heart and tranquil soul.
Sedona sits on top of an aquafer covered in quartz and it literally vibrates. It’s said there are seven vortices, identified in the 1970s that emit different frequencies, but the reality is the entire area is the vortex. I felt the pull when I approached, and it faded, but not entirely, when I left.
The same feeling that surrounded me in New Orleans happened in Sedona. But the reality is that I live in Houston (which I also happen to love) and the lesson is in learning to carry the feeling in my happy heart with me, wherever I live. I’m feeling El Paso next. Either the desert or the swamp for me. Go figure.
That said, I can't think of anything else to write so I’ll share one of the stories from my trip here, the first one. On the plane to Sedona, I was in the middle seat, and David was by the window. A small girl, about nine years old, with a pink backpack gingerly sat down in the aisle seat. Her mother said she was sitting a few rows back and that her daughter wouldn’t bother me. I assured her I wouldn’t bother her daughter either and the girl settled in to draw cats in her notebook. Her sketches were very good, but I kept my opinion to myself, having already scared her once when I said hello.
A few minutes later a woman stopped at our row and asked the girl where her parents were because the girl was in her seat. This further terrified her and she pointed to her father who was sitting one row ahead and across the aisle. Soon enough they realized that Layla (the girl’s name as stated on her backpack) should be across the aisle. The woman asked Layla if she was comfortable, Layla affirmed she was, and the woman (whose name was Rachel) sat down in Layla’s seat. All was well.
Not long after takeoff, Rachel began asking Layla about the cats in her notebook and we all admired them. They began talking about cats and Rachel showed Layla a picture of her cat. I then showed a picture of Marlowe. Layla expressed reserved interest that both Rachel and I had black cats and went on to draw a black cat in her notebook.
Layla didn’t have a cat. She didn’t have any pets because she was allergic to them, but she went on to name all the cat breeds she knew, prompted by Rachel. Together they knew an impressive number of cat breeds.
A little later, Rachel began working on a crochet doily, which completely captivated Layla. Rachel showed her how she created the stitches and shared photos of some of the things she’d made (I would bet money that Rachel is an elementary school teacher but didn't ask because I was definitely the outsider in this scenario). I mentioned that I had a black cat AND I also crocheted. Rachel said we could be twins but Layla remained unimpressed, so I didn’t bother getting out the infinity scarf I’d made from the carry-on to show her. She asked me how to find the flight map on the seat monitor so I wasn’t completely invisible.
After her crochet interest waned, Layla tried to switch on her tablet, but the battery was dead. Her father gave her a charger, but there were no power connections in the seats, and a look of mild panic crossed her face. I got a power bank out of my bag and plugged in her tablet. She then turned back to Rachel, and they began discussing dog breeds. Google had nothing on those two.
Just before landing, Layla asked me about my cat. I’d never mentioned that Marlowe was no longer with us, I just said he was my cat. David said, “he was a good cat” and Layla picked right up on it.
She asked me if he was alive and when I told her he’d died her interest sparked up. She wanted to know when and how he died, how old he was when he died, if he was sick, did we visit his grave, and several other maudlin questions that seemed completely on point for this tiny girl who might turn to dust (or bats) if you looked at her the wrong way.
Layla told me all about every dead pet she knew, or knew of, including her father’s first dog. That morbid little Wednesday Addams was completely in her element, and I was finally interesting enough to capture her attention.
I should have led with my dead cat.
Now, for the housekeeping segment of our time together:
I host live tarot readings and ramble sessions every Sunday at 10am CDT as part of the Trusted Tarot group on Facebook. You can join in (or just watch) here: Trusted Tarot
I am the Tableau Module Trainer for TABI’s Intermediate Tarot course that will be starting again in October. I also host the North American Time monthly zoom meetup. If you’re interested in either the course, or joining TABI, please reach out and I’ll point you in the right direction.
I’m presenting Marseille Tableau – By The Numbers at the TABI Midwinter Conference on January 30th and 31st, and The Dao of Witchcraft at WitchCon in February 2027.
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