RED ROCK CANYON, NEVADA.
It was a rare event to get that much snow is Las Vegas. The craggy mountains were covered in fresh white powder, turning the desert landscape into a winter wonderland overnight. We were staying right at the edge of Sin City, with the mountains serving as one huge backyard. Being that close to the mountains just made us want to get closer. It was like a call of the wild to shake off the flat city life of Chicago and fully immerse ourselves in nature. Plus, as many of you know, I love to travel. So, naturally, Luke and I went for a hike.
The hiking trails at Red Rock all set out around a loop road, reaching out into the mountains like arteries from a central heart. It was other-worldly. The crags of the snow-covered mountains gave way to piles of rounded clumps of brick-red earth. It looked like something between Mars and looking at an art farm through a magnifying glass.
As the day and our energy wound down, though, we decided to visit one more trail – one that held more power than all the others combined: The Petroglyph Wall trail.
We expected something so magnifiscent and historical to be hard to access, but no. At just .02 miles long, the trail to the rock face was super easy to get to. So a few steps from the car, there we were, face-to-face with the oldest petroglyphs in the U.S.! Created over 3,000 years ago, archeologists believe these rock carvings served as directional and environmental sign posts to indigenous civilizations. The truth is no one’s certain what they were for.
Mesmerized, I noticed a hand print (below). When I saw that hand print, what it was “for” didn’t matter in the slightest. All that mattered was the opportunity I now had to connect to ancient indigenous human life.
Fascinated with ancient civilizations, I stood there alone for a moment, taking it all in. My mind was calm and racing at the same time. I was standing where an ancient indigenous artist once stood before leaving their mark on a rock face I was now just 2 feet away from. What happened here? Why this spot? Was it a hunting ground? Was it just some doodle? My imagination was running wild! Then, suddenly, and wave of peace came over me.
Feeling the rush of connection, I closed my eyes and connected to the Spirits of this fascinating land. In a meditation that lasted just 1 minute, I asked them, “What would you have me know?”
My heart expanded, my third eye tingled, and to my surprise, I heard an answer:
“No one home.”
The message, as I translated it, was that there isn’t just one home for us. We are of the Earth and the Cosmos. The Earth is our home and so too is The Universe. There is no one home. There are many. And we are free to explore it all.
After the message came through, I could feel other hikers approaching, so I opened my eyes, thanked Spirit, and walked away. It took just 2 steps for me to realize, “Those cheeky little fuckers! That was a double entrendre.” Yes, the message was translated correctly, but I was also asking a question to the Spirits of people who had been dead for 3,000 years. No one was home. Lol!
I smiled, told Luke, hugged him long enough to wonder if everything was all right. But it was more than “all right”. Because a connection was opened and I know with all my heart and soul that I communed with Spirit, that no time or space had truly divided us. And that my instinct of late to connect with my indigenous ancestry is not just a thought, but a sign post of its own, guiding me forward and backward and into the present moment all at once.
What’s next on this path of mine, I do not know. But I know there is no one home for me. There are many.
Sent with love,
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