Part 1: Sacred Earth, A Personal and Bioregional Journey in the Desert

Some may say that when a man or woman embarks on the ancient human rite of passage called a vision quest, that they leave reality behind as each steps into the ‘dreamtime’. This is not so.

What is actually the case is that one who embarks on this ancient walk is temporarily stepping out of the sweeping, jostling dream that is humanity, and into the vast dream of the Earth.

This is the story of many stories, all interwoven, encircling and embedded in one another. It is, for instance, the story of a desert in the southern part of California. It is also, the story of a man who with deep nervousness felt remarkably calm as he took his place in a circle of men and women who each waited to head out alone into this desert on their quest for a vision. There are many stories that can be told, probably as many as there are beings with the power to apprehend, understand, and then tell them to others. But let’s begin with the man, for it is through his eyes that the other story, that of the Mojave desert, is seen.

However, it was not his eyes, but his skin that drank in the kind of surreal stillness which hung in the air of this particular desert morning. The crunch of gathering shoes on coarse desert sand slowed to an anticipatory silence as nine humans faced each other and seven of their number inwardly prepared to leave their understanding of world and self behind, and embark on a journey of discovery for three days and three nights.

Lost in thought, sharing a few parting words, the circle’s gaze settled down towards the sandy, rock-strewn ground between them from where a small pile of sage burned above the rocky, dun-colored ground. Around it ran a circle of stones: a splash of desert white, melted reds, black and the everpresent brown from millennia of transits of the sun. The stone circle marked an entrance through which these people would, one after the other, take their first step of a difficult journey they each knew they might – and might not – be able to complete.

But as I promised, there is yet another story to be told. This is the story of the part of the world into which this man would walk, a bioregion now called the Mojave Desert. As if held in Gaia’s cupped hands, it is highly differentiated from other regions, yet coherent within itself. It produces its own offspring, teaches, nourishes, governs and heals itself. It is thus fulfilling to those who know this as their home.

There is a recognition, however latent, that our existence as humanity holds both great promise and great risk, just as does a single man’s vision quest. Both humanity on the one hand, and this man on the other, are somehow aware that they may – or may not – be able to survive.

Yet just as men and women throughout the globe do not all come to a standstill in their cities and towns, and suddenly immerse themselves in reflection that survival of their species just might not be possible, neither did this man. In those moments before stepping forward on his vision quest, he was not contemplating all the pitfalls and perils that waited ahead, perhaps just beyond even the first, short craggy slope. The future was shrouded by the present.

For the man about to embark on a rite of passage, a vision quest, his thoughts of danger were quieted to the point of whispers, as his senses heightened to the potential perils and trials that were but moments away.

Vision is the art of seeing, but how does one really see, beyond the glitter of the immediate? Moreover, how does one see and still remain fully present, fully embodied, and not lost in the thought-forms of words?

To seek a vision, whether it is humanity’s struggle to comprehend itself and its human role, or whether it is the struggle of a single man to see through the personal maya of his own and shared cultural illusions, to truly grasp the reality of self and world, it as if human beings in search of these things must step outside the circles of both self and world.

Those about to enter their quest stood before just such a circle, upon a land that had cycled for eons through wet, marshy and then dry climates. Like living in and out-breaths, vast populations of plants and animals would multiply and expand in range when the Mojave was lush and green, only to adapt or die off when the climate changed again to blistering heat, expanding again in range and numbers with the return a wet era.

Though they were exceedingly attentive, they could not feel through their feet the ebb and flow of alluvial fans gathered, stabilized, and then eroded in cycles across planetary eras. It was the same with the sand dunes, rising and falling as would waves across inconceivable stretches of time. All was a cycle, a pulse, of the heartbeat of the Earth. The soles of their feet met ground which had cycled over and over as well though through eons of chemical weathering and soil formation which would transition amidst a grand cycle to a following era of mechanical weathering and erosion, only to return eventually, to breaking down chemically again. The man knew he must break down as well, and the desert was the perfect place to let this happen.

The timeless history of this place could not be seen, only felt. And though they could not see into the past, the felt these things as one by one they stepped into the circle, drawn by an incessant, clamoring to know beyond what they had yet known, receiving first a blessing of sage smoke that pulled at their nostrils with ancient memories. Taking a tiny pause before stepping out across the circle of stones, they began to journey out of the jostling, surging dream of humanity, into the vast, enfolding dream of the Earth.


-to be continued-