By. S. Mariah Rose
All honest work is good work; it is capable of leading to self-development, provided the doer seeks to discover the inherent lessons and makes the most of the potentialities for such growth.
~ Paramahansa Yogananda
During the weeks between Zozobra and calling Suzanne, I tried not to think too far ahead. While there were interesting aspects to my day-to-day existence, the adventures of a non-traditional nature, which were part of a larger spiritual quest, were more noteworthy.
Living in Santa Fe had connected me to other seekers, such as Mo and Emmy. I was exposed to books by seekers including, The Road Less Traveled by M. Scott Peck, M.D., and the Seth Speaks books by Jane Roberts, which I devoured.
In The Road Less Traveled, Scott Peck begins by saying, “Life is difficult. This is a Great Truth, one of the Greatest Truths.” Upon reading those words of wisdom, I felt less alone.
I had grown up believing that life should be easy for someone like me: smart, pretty, middle class, with a good education and “a good head on your shoulders,” as my mother always said. So, what went wrong? Why was I living a hand-to-mouth existence in a faraway city, divorced and directionless?
The answer that came to me after a while was that nothing was wrong. Yes, I was going through a difficult phase of my life, but others too had questioned, sought, and, as a result, embraced new inner and outer freedoms.
No, I was not alone in my isolation.
Popular culture, it seemed, was filled with those whose alienation had propelled them into nontraditional lifestyles and, as a result, new awareness. In other words, “I was exactly where I was supposed to be,” a phrase that was popular in Santa Fe.
In Seth Speaks, author Jane Roberts finds herself channeling information from Seth, an advanced entity with clear and insightful advice for us humans, calling him, “an energy personality essence no longer focused in the physical form.” While I was skeptical at first about this concept, the open-mindedness I was getting in the habit of allowing since I had come to Santa Fe seemed to work for me in this case.
This entity had a consciousness that was not confined to a body. Okay, I thought, it’s possible.
The theme running through my own life as well as through the books I was reading was that humans were emerging from our materialistic mindset into a more holistic sense of connectedness.
Whether through pop psychology, Eastern mysticism, or New Age channeling, the message was the same: life is not black and white. It is filled with gray areas, inconsistencies, mysteries. What we see in the physical world is not all there is. For centuries, people had believed in angels, Great Spirits, animal guides, energy. A resurgence was occurring in which personal experiences of spirituality were again being discussed and written about. And, this mirrored my personal experience.
Judaism and Christianity stressed reliance on rabbis, priests, or ministers to interpret God’s will. In contrast, the older forms of spirituality that were becoming prevalent again, at least in some circles deemed New Age, stressed a personal experience of spirit that was tangible and available to all, regardless of church or dogma.
This appealed to me since I was beginning to have some deep feelings of connectedness with someone or something that felt very comforting to me.
I realized that this feeling was what I had been seeking all my life…in my relationship with Michael, my pursuit of adventure and career, and my forays as a teenager into pot and drinking.
I had not been raised in any particular religion and had been taught from a very young age that physical reality was all that existed. I was both relieved and intrigued to learn firsthand that this was not necessarily true. The realization that I could actually have my own personal spiritual connection that I could tap into for strength and guidance took shape in my life.
This notion began to have greater significance and bear more weight for me as my time in Santa Fe lengthened. I noticed that when I got quiet inside, I could sometimes hear the whisper of a small voice that was my inner knowing making itself heard.
As things looked, I would go on about my days with little or no thought about life’s bigger questions until I would get an inner nudge of some sort from my spiritual self that would signal it was time to take the next step. In this case, that meant calling Suzanne and setting up a time to visit her land.
It was early November. Fall and winter were generally pretty mild in Santa Fe so walking outside was still feasible. After a few rings, a woman’s voice answered. “Hello.”
“Hi,” I stammered. “You don’t know me, but Nellie had suggested I give you a call…I’m a friend of Nellie’s. Um, my name is Sara.”
“Hi, Sara, I’ve been expecting your call,” Suzanne said warmly. “Would you like to come by and visit my land?”
“Well, I am free this coming Sunday,” I said tentatively.
“Great,” Suzanne replied.
As we were talking, I thought to myself that I really had no clue why Nellie was pairing me up with this woman, though it was probably something to do with spirituality.
I was wondering, while I had her on the line, if I should ask her what her spiritual “thing” was. But I dismissed that thought, because how do you ask someone such a question?
I didn’t ask, but I thought that her spiritual leanings probably couldn’t phase me at this point. After all, in Santa Fe I’d already been to see a shaman and an acupuncturist, as well as attended a Native American sweat lodge for women only. In addition, I’d experienced some more intangible forms of spirituality; animals as spirit guides, and people who may or may not have been supernatural in origin. Actually, what got me to move to Santa Fe in the first place was the one-night solo camp out and mini vision quest where I had fasted and, as a result, had a strong sense that I needed to be here, at least for a while.
So, six years later, out of a marriage and off any kind of traditional career path, here I was, again meeting someone new and venturing out onto the land for another “spiritual” adventure.
Suzanne proceeded to give me directions.
It sounded something like this: “When you get to the Las Vegas exit, take it, and proceed about ten miles. Then you’ll see a convenience store on your left and a dirt road on your right. Turn right onto the dirt road and proceed about half a mile until you come to a rundown shed on the righthand side of the road.”
She told me that the road would fork to right after that. Then I would need to turn left at a row of mailboxes and proceed down the dirt road to the house.
“You will see it as soon as you turn at the mailboxes. It is a large white ranch-style home. Turn into the driveway and park. You’ll likely notice several horses grazing outside in the adjacent fields.”
Whew, I thought. This sounds iffy at best. Yet, I marveled at how accustomed I had become to tooling around the back roads of New Mexico in my little red Toyota Tercel hatchback.
This life was nothing I had foreseen in my wildest dreams. Once the fear of being in Santa Fe had receded a bit after my first couple of years, I had begun to love the freedom of the wide-open spaces and to draw inspiration from the unspoiled beauty that was all around me every day.
“I’ll do my best to be there by noon on Sunday,” I said to Suzanne from my end of the phone.
“I’ll be on the lookout for you around then,” she said. “My dogs will likely come out to greet you when they see you drive up. But, don’t worry, they are very friendly.”
I thanked her and upon hanging up, looked over my cryptic notes on which I had scribbled directions to Suzanne’s place.
I figured I could find it all right if I paid close enough attention to the landmarks she had pointed out.
The morning of my visit to Suzanne’s, I packed my backpack with what I had begun to think of as Santa Fe Essentials: water bottle, hat, sunblock, and fleece jacket. I usually threw a pair of jeans in the back seat along with a down vest, just in case. I put on shorts, a tee-shirt, and my Tevas, good walking sandals. I was all set.
As I drove out of town, once again I let my mind unwind into the vastness of the landscape. I would sure miss this place if I were to leave, I thought. And then I remembered the conversation that had taken place between Nellie and myself a couple weekends ago at Zozobra. Or, more realistically, the lack of conversation.
The only thing Nellie had mentioned was to go visit Suzanne. Nellie always talked to me about gaining a connection to spirit through the land, which I assumed was why she had directed me toward Suzanne.
I surmised that I needed to connect more fully with the land here in this part of the world, absorb whatever energy was there for me to absorb, and then move on elsewhere, renewed.
No, more than renewed, I thought—totally transformed.
However, I wanted to know for sure that the time was right to go. I wanted to be certain that I was complete with being in Santa Fe before I left. Yet, how would I know these things?
I decided on that drive that I was ready to meet my destiny: moving into the world at large as a spiritual being.
I was ready to be someone who was attuned to the subtler aspects of energy.
I had become a woman who could draw sustenance from nature, trust others who were very different from myself, and keep an open mind about customs and beliefs that were completely foreign to those I had been raised with.
Living in Santa Fe had taught me all that, and as I drove an hour or so out to Suzanne’s land that late November, it felt right and good.
I careened down the smooth highway, looking out over a barren landscape of dry sagebrush, doing my best to follow Suzanne’s directions. I had them written in cryptic shorthand on a sticky note that lay beside me on the passenger seat. When I had first arrived in Santa Fe, I would have been mortified at trying to find a ranch out in the middle of nowhere with weird directions citing natural landmarks instead of street signs as markers. Initially, I got lost a lot.
That was another thing about living in Santa Fe that had changed me.
I had gotten used to paying more attention to what was around me: trees, rocky outcroppings, dilapidated buildings, and mile markers between two otherwise nondescript points on a map.
I had grown up with street signs, well-marked highways, and well-lit exits. Everything had been very civilized in New England. Property that was on the verge of collapse would be condemned and then torn down. Nothing was left to decay and weather like you’d find on the back roads outside Santa Fe where abandoned 100-year-old structures were often found in various stages of collapse, left entirely to the elements.
Now, I was used to this way of life. Just at the point at which I was thinking of leaving, I realized that this life had started to suit me just fine. I had become more confident in not having all the answers. In fact, not only was I in limbo in terms of not knowing exactly where I was going, as I hit the road to Suzanne’s place, but, in general I was in limbo at this point in time. I didn’t know how long I would stay in Santa Fe and where I would go if and when I left. But it was okay.
In the past I would have been a nervous wreck trying to force a solution. Now, I was content to let things unfold organically. I figured I would know when I knew. In the meantime, I was driving down a beautiful road on a gorgeous day, going on another adventure. What a joy.
About the Author
Mariah Rose has been a professional writer for over thirty years. Rose’s work has been featured in ColoradoBiz Magazineand the Santa Fean Magazine. She has a master’s degree in International Communication from the University of Denver and lives in Denver, Colorado. Discover how to tap into your own spirituality and explore how a “Detour” can transform your life. For more information, please visit her website at www.smariahrose.com.
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