I knew about the energy vortexes that Sedona, Arizona is famous for since I was immersed in that world when I was a practicing massage therapist. I even taught the Energetic Foundations course at the Connecticut Center for Massage Therapy. But in recent years, I have disengaged from those heady days of crystals and whatnot. So as far as energy vortexes went, I was keeping a neutral mind when Richie and I headed to Arizona for our vacation this year.
Our B&B wasn’t quite ready for us, so we drove to Cathedral Rock, a hiking site and also a purported energy vortex. We began to hike the short, steep trail up the slippery red rock. When the trail turned into a chimney-like crevice, I decided that was enough. We picked another, flatter trail that wound through the scrub at the base of the formation. As we walked further into the rocks, I started to feel…well…good. It wasn’t just the peace of silence and natural beauty; I’ve got plenty of that at home. And it wasn’t just being away from winter, because it was a spitting rainy day in the 50’s. No, what I felt was almost maternal. As if I was being held as a cherished part of the whole.
To make sure I wasn’t making it up, I cast my mind back to hiking in Ghost Ranch last year. The landscape was similar, a place of red rocks and vast distances, but, there, while awed by the beauty, I also remembered feeling distinctly intimidated by this immense physical reminder of my own insignificance.
In Sedona, I woke up the following morning in our private B&B room to the cozy sound of the little coffee maker dripping away. When the coffee was done, Richie brought me a cup and we sat in bed, sipping in companionable silence. “What time did you start the coffee?” I asked, glad for this luxury.
A pause. “I thought you started the coffee,” he said.
* * *
A few days later we drove down to Bisbee, a town at the other, southern end of Arizona. Bisbee is known for its funky arts culture and people assured me I would love it. As we entered Bisbee, a former copper mining town built into a canyon, I felt a growing sense of apprehension. I assumed it was just a bit of claustrophobia because of the steep canyon walls that surround the town. We found our motel and I had a nice glass of whiskey and started to feel more relaxed. We walked around town. I didn’t like it. From the mountains riddled with mine tunnels to the junk shops to the graying hippie population, everything spoke of willful disconnection and the exploitation that is both its cause and result.
Later, back home in Massachusetts, I Goggled Bisbee. To my surprise, I discovered that just about every hotel and public building purports to be haunted. Apparently decades of murdered miners, suicidal prostitutes, and other violent death had left its mark. Was it this uneasy energy I had felt so strongly while I was there?
Some people like ghostly things. I don’t like uneasy ghostly things, but I don’t mind comfortable ghostly things, and a thoughtful ghost who starts the coffee maker in the morning? Well, that’s a ghost I can live with.