I have friends on the mountain this week who are calling for a vision. I support them by paying attention to what I most need in the moment and by intentionally eating and drinking to nourish them along with me. This is a gentle and compassionate way that we can walk in support of all people.
Two years ago I climbed the mountain to seek a vision. For several months prior, I sat daily and said my prayers, tying each prayer into colored cloth with tobacco. These prayers would be my protection while I sat for 4 days and nights without food and water.
My biggest fear in anticipating my quest was that I wouldn’t receive a vision, that I wouldn’t be able to hear Creator speaking to me. Two weeks before quest, I developed a huge boil on my third eye. Skin infections were not the norm for me; this certainly got my attention. The day before I hiked up the mountain, the boil burst; it was apparent that I needn’t be concerned about receiving a vision – my connection with Spirit was clear and open. In my mind, I still held doubts.
My expectation of how my vision would manifest went something like this: the clouds would part, bright light would shine upon me and trumpets would sound to draw my attention to the angels’ voices which would then reveal the message I needed to hear. Two days passed; it poured rain, a large toad sat under the oak tree staring at me, mosquitoes kept me up at night, and hover flies buzzed continuously in my face. No trumpets, no angels. Where was my F#!*ing vision?
Toad seemed to soak it all in, sitting patiently, knowing his own toad truths and reminding me that truth is everywhere available. Hover flies told me in their persistent way that it was time I paid attention to the ways I distracted myself from all I could be sensing. Oak tree stood straight and tall, offering shelter and security. Rain was cleansing and mosquitoes swarming around my head assured I would be awake when the midnight winds blew in sounds of beautiful flute music, gifted from sky beings; this relaxed me into a peace-filled state.
It wasn’t until afternoon of the third day that I understood. All these still, soft voices within my heart were communicated every moment through my experience and environment . . . these were the messengers. This was Spirit speaking to me, offering guidance and opportunity for introspection on life’s path. This was the voice that I hadn’t been willing to trust as my guidance, that I didn’t believe I could hear. It was so simple, so consistent – for years it had been – and yet I hadn’t been open to listening, to trusting.
The gift of quest continues to feed me, to teach me, to speak to me in a myriad of ways. I hold deep gratitude for this transformative ceremony, for all who supported me and continue to support this work, for my many loving and patient teachers and for learning to trust myself.
