To the Desert

Oooh. Oooh oooh oooh. That’s me calming myself down.

Or I could say, “Holy shit!” Not a very sacred way to start this post, but that’s what we say back in Jersey when something big is goin’ down.

I just spoke with my sister, who grew up with me in Jersey. And something big is indeed goin’ down. So it feels fitting. At least it feels that way to me.

In 7 hours a woman I’ve never met before will pick me up at the crack of dawn. We’ll drive 9 hours to a desert (Death Valley, how fitting) I’ve never been before. There I’ll meet 10 other people, all but one who I’ve met before, and embark on 9 days of ritual, ceremony, council, and 4 days of fasting, three days solo in the wilderness with a sleeping bag, a tarp, water and my journal. No, I’ve never done that before either!

So I stand at the brink of a Vision Quest, a scared journey into the unknown. I’ve been excited all week. And today the fear and grief came through like a mighty Pacific storm. Wowsers. It was all I could do to keep myself tied to the mast and keep movin’ through.

And I did. And I had too. My mother will attest to my habit of leaving packing to the last minute.

And here I am now. At nine at night. The bills are paid. The emails sent. The bags are packed, beautifully. I even cleaned the kitchen! Though not as beautifully.

And I’m feeling…rather good, enjoying a sweet cup of chai and a few morsels of chocolate, a cozy way to celebrate this last night at home, to end a sweet week of potlucks, friends and holiday warmth, and to celebrate the completion of my preparation – of buying tarps and borrowing down coats and sleeping bags and going on an 8 mile “Day Walk” to seek guidance and meeting with my precious Men’s Group and handling a hundred other matters.

I might actually save this week’s to-do list for posterity. Sample items include:
- Give notice to landlord I am leaving this house
- Pay garbage bill
- Prep for Death Lodge

So what lies ahead? It’s hard to say much about a process I know so little about. I can say it feels right to do this. I can say I believe it will change me – perhaps profoundly - though I’m not sure how.

People embark on Vision Quests for different reasons. I am going because I feel my quest will help me continue to move between worlds: between a world based on more on fear and control to one based on trust and openness. I am going because I want to be tested, to face my fears and work through and overcome some of them. I am going to cultivate that sense of being “at home” more deeply inside me, wherever I am. And I am going to further my transformation: to let go and grieve and find a deeper love and support in myself, in the earth, in the stars…and, perhaps, in unexpected places.

And I’m sure I’m going for other reasons, but my mind isn’t conscious of every conspiracy of my soul and the universe. It just gets a glimpse, and if I’m lucky, I muster the courage to go with it.

I am so grateful to everyone who has helped me get to a point in my life where a Vision Quest not only makes sense, but it’s actually something I’m choosing to do, despite my fears. The support and wisdom and love and cheerleading I’ve gotten from so many of you during the past few years, and especially the past few weeks and months, has made a tremendous difference for me.

A kid from Jersey who used to pride himself on his math mind – OK, still does – and started an atheist group in his high school (for real) now knows he has a soul, is now choosing to surrender himself to the universe, has slowly, over time, built the courage to make the move. This is a victory for the universe! ;-)

The grief. I wonder about it. I think it has to do with leaving home, and coming home, and also letting certain things go so that I can make space for new things. Letting go of loves lost and never had to make room for so much more. I'm doing my best to make room for it, remind myself that all that comes now is necessary, and that I am learning to strike a balance between honoring the boy and stepping up as a man.

Right now I feel like I’m standing at the shore of a large lake. It is dusk. It is misty. The water and the air are cool. Rocky cliffs surround us. I’ve never had the courage to walk up to this lake before and stand before it.

These past few months, I’ve found that courage. The lake is big and strong – foreboding in some ways - and yet I can stand before it now.

And there is a boat. It is not a big boat. It looks stable enough, but just barely, and by no means modern. That boat will take me to the other side of the lake.

I want to see that other side so much. But I’m scared. But tomorrow morning at 5am I’m getting in that boat anyway. I’m listening to my soul and doing something scary and having faith I’ll make it through.

I am nervous about the voyage. And I am also excited! To learn new ways and rituals and ceremonies on this boat. To receive wisdom from guides and others on this lake. To commune deeply with the earth, with the rocks, with the blue sky. To sleep under a blanket of stars, and stare up in awe at the night sky that has held me so close since I was a child. To do the rituals and face the fears and feel the fatigue and yet push on. To build fires and burn paper and release what I no longer need into the deep, black water; to cherish rocks and skin and ritual objects as if they were bread; and to pluck treasures, precious treasures, from the mystery.

And to reach the other side. At least to catch more of a glimpse of that new world. To see and feel and smell and experience what more of what it means to live meaningfully and sensually and with a deep knowledge that I am held and safe in this gorgeous world. To dance in it even! And I don’t know any other way there except to cross this dark, mysterious body of water.

I’m staying conscious of the over achiever in me, and of the mystery. I really don’t know what will happen, and I imagine I will accept whatever comes.

And yet at this moment I want to let myself dream big. To balance the fears with a big huge love, wonder, passion and faith.

Whatever your beliefs, I know that if you are reading this, you love me. I ask for your prayers, your thoughts, your blessings, your love and your belief in me as I embark on this journey. It will make a difference, and I will hold you in my heart when I am out there.

Much love,
Roni

And how fitting that the 3 nights before my 3 day solo are the 3 last nights of Hanukkah, and I, wandering Jew, will be in the desert, Menorah and candles in hand.