Sacred travel is not a predictable thing. It by nature is fluid and spontaneous, led by the intuition and an openness to explore. Unlike vacation, it does not come with perfect accommodations, gourmet meals and neatly arranged outings. It is a thing of wonder!
A few months back, when winter was still fully in possession of the north, my sister Sandy and I began planning our spring travel. Our plan was to teach Earth Magic in Milwaukee in the beginning of the month, and then spend the end of the month teaching about parallel lives/past lives in LA & Carlsbad. As the plan emerged from the ether of our minds, we other magical bits starting presenting themselves, and our simple business/teaching trip soon turned into a grand adventure that would involve 2 weeks in California. The first working, the second doing deep Earth Magic in Joshua Tree, deep in the Mojave desert. The second part of the trip was in fact the real work, and involved 13 friends and spiritual allies heading into the desert to do sound healing.
A few weeks before we were to head to California, the ‘work’ part of our trip began to fall away. First the folks in LA seemed unable to host an event. This at first bothered me, as they were the reason we were heading in that direction. They had asked us to come, and only after tickets were bought and plans were made, realized that they could not make it happen.
Now in moments like this, it is easy to get discouraged, to be pissed and start doing a hissy-fit dance. But it was clear by this point, that we needed to be there. There was never any thought of not going, or of changing how long we would be there, simply an understanding that we had work to do on the west coast. This same feeling came to the surface, when our second host, the one in Carlsbad told us days before we were flying out, that they had not been able to follow through on their end.
When we boarded the plane, we were still up in the air on where we were going when we got to California. We decided, that we would decide while in the air where it was we were suppose to go. We had place mat markers of where we needed to be, but none of those were relevant until early next week. Our first 4 days of the trip were open, and itching for Spiritual guidance.
By the time we landed in LA, we knew that we would not be heading south to Carlsbad, instead we would be taking an 10 hour drive north, to Mount Shasta. This was not a random; close your eyes and point at any place on the map, kind of decision, but instead it was a knowing that we all experienced. One that came in boldly. For me, it was a feeling of calling that I experienced any time I looked at the in-flight map. I would see the dot in the northern part of California, and the name Shasta, and I would feel drawn to it.
Mount Shasta is a holy mountain, one that holds the making of pilgrimage. Known for it’s powerful vortex energy, it is a place of high earth energy, a place where one can go to heal themselves and to do direct healing toward the Earth. (I will write more about Shasta in the next few days, after I have spent some time exploring here).
Getting to Shasta was an adventure of it’s own, as we; my traveling companions (my sister Sandy and our friend Missy), and I, are very open to intuitive travel, and following the path that Spirit presents us with. This kind of travel is best done with a destination in mind, but a very loose idea on how long it will take you to get there, and a sense of wonderment. Intuitive travel means there are no wrong turns, and every place you land is an opportunity to connect with Spirit.
Leaving LA was like escaping prison. First of all, I must be completely honest…this city did nothing for me. I felt an instant desire to leave it, yet the city itself is a powerful vortex of energy, that really doesn’t want you to leave.
Our first experience with wacky travel and leaving LA was connected to our GPS. No matter what we typed into it, it wanted to take us back to the car rental shop. So we tried using the GPS’s on our phones, and this happened again, and again. We finally got ourselves out of the city, and the GPS’s to behave at least a little bit, and started heading up the coastal highway, believing that we would travel most of the way with the beautiful Pacific Ocean as our traveling guide. That too proved incorrect.
After driving for hours, mostly along the coast, Missy who was driving suddenly said “I am not sure how this happened, but I do not believe we are on Route 1 anymore.” This did not alarm us, but instead made us ask “Well, where do you suppose we are, and where are we headed?”
Again our GPS’s were of no help. In fact, they obviously had no idea where we were. While accessing our GPS’s (more then one), we would often find that it believed us to be in other places on the continent…including Nebraska, Maryland, and the south western tip of Mexico. We did not seem to be track-able.
When we finally got one of the GPS’s to acknowledge our actual location, we found we had gone inland. We plotted a new course and continued forward, not wanting to turn around and come back the way we came. This was not a disappointment.
Shortly after going through a bum-fuck town in California we found ourselves entering a canyon. It was breath taking. The road wove like a snake down and around the mountains, into the valley deep below. It was a God moment, and exceptional moment of Spirit, when the universe took our breath away.
Sandy communing with the sun, above the Canyon.
Wild shrub Sage
We drove for hours after the canyon, so thankful for the beauty we had experienced. We relished in the memory of the sound we had created when toning on the top of the canyon, as people drove by waving @ the crazy women singing and laughing, as they stood on the edge of the canyon on a tiny pull off.
That night we landed at a roadside hotel, thankful for hot showers and the gift of being alive. We set up our altar, with a crystal grid and powerful bits that were sacred to us as individuals and as a traveling band of gypsies. We gave thanks to our ancestors, particularly mine and Sandy’s dad, who was ecstatic to have us in California; a state he lived in for almost 30 years.
The next day/yesterday, we woke and set intentions…mine was to get to Mount Shasta that night, which we did. In moments like these, I generally like to be behind the wheel. So I drove the 10 hours or so North to get us there.
Well, I am off on adventure. I will be sharing stories from the road via Facebook live, and blogging about our vortex adventures tomorrow morning, so stay tuned folks. It’s a hell of a ride!