Excerpted from Surreal Bounce, in which Sedona is included as part of an odyssey in search of creativity and madness:
It is time to follow the advice of a vortex book I’d picked up.
Its message, essentially, is that Sedona is a collective vortex.
So the thing to do is choose a spot where you feel most comfortable, be it upon a red rock or a toilet, and meditate.
My spot, I’d already figured, is the open-air terrace bar at Fort Enchantment—serenity unspoiled by the swarms—cocooned within Boynton Canyon Vortex, a view of Kachina Woman.
It feels appropriate to drink something indigenous to the region.
So I sip silver peyote juice from a martini glass, its rim coated with salt, while scribing these notes into my leather-bound journal:
This isn’t one you’re supposed to work at; you’re supposed to slowdona, as the T-shirt says, choose a spot that best reflects who you are, and meditate.
I prefer to contemplate (rather than meditate)—and my favorite contemplation mode is with a cocktail or a glass of wine all on my own, nobody to talk with, and nothing to read, just my thoughts and me.
Sitting on this terrace at dusk, watching for a full moon behind red rock, a buzz of people around me, I’m the only one alone.
Sometime during the night, in the total blackness of my room, I am jolted awake by a burst of electricity.
Since I’m not plugged into anything, it must be of the metaphysical variety.
Half awake from the charge, I feel a tingling in my left hand, as if circulation has been cut. I try to shake it off but it morphs into a fierce swirling storm beneath my knuckles, moving slowly, clockwise, from left to right.
This tornado is halfway across my hand before I tweak to what’s going on:
Metaphysical shock treatment! Vortexed!
I allow the sensation to play out.
When it reaches the base of my thumb, the twirling electrical current turns and reverses, motioning the other way under my knuckles, counter-clockwise, until, very slowly, it fades and disappears. The whole episode lasts about a minute.
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| Kissing Rock |
Old Native American proverb: God created the Grand Canyon but He lives in Sedona.
