One version of this Legend tells us about how a dying Shaman, and leader of his Tribe, instructed the Tribe to seek out their new “Dream.” “Dream,” as used here, refers to the Tribe’s collective idea, or “Tonal,” or image of what their “Home” and “Society” constituted.
A number of my posts have focused on travel and the literal, “Finding Home,”and this is no different.
Castaneda writes about our being able to perceive the Auras, or the “Cocoon” of energy around people (luminous beings or light beings) and that you are able to tell if an individual’s Tonal is good. And having a good Tonal is a prerequisite to developing yourself as a Nagual.
One day, the Brujo “sees” a person with a good Tonal sitting in the town square where they are visiting. And he requires, as part of Castaneda’s training, for him to introduce himself to this person and to offer assistance with any task that this person needs to perform. Castaneda complies and he assists the woman in a somewhat strained manner.
I forget now, what it was he helped her with, but that is irrelevant to my tale.
Note: Since this is a continuation of the first and second post in this series (“Wondrous Souls,” & “Wondrous Souls – Dyad”) I’ve begun with the last few lines of the second post to kick this one off. To try to keep you in the rhythm of the story without you having to refer back to the previous post.
It was truly a trading of energies, and we painted images in each other’s minds with the words we spoke. And I believe revealed our Souls. Our true essence.
That has a lasting effect on you. And it certainly has with me. It gives you hope for all of humanity.
One thing she told me about being on those long trails, like the PCT, the Continental Divide Trail and the Appalachian Trail – known as the Big Three – you never have to explain yourself.
Everyone on those trails has an innate understanding of the ardor of the Soul being activated there.
Note: Since this is a continuation of the first post “Wondrous Souls,” I’ve begun with the last paragraph of that post to kick this one off. To try to keep you in the rhythm of the story without you having to refer back to that post.
I was blessed to run into a few of these shining Souls during my travels this past Summer. I’ve experienced bad ones as well, but that’s another story for another day. And if I’m choosing definitions, I take door number three, or at least a part of it – “emotional or intellectual energy or intensity.” But instead of this intensity being revealed in some other tangible art form, I would say this energy is, as definition number four implies, embodied in those people. I would equate these good Souls with Fine Art! Literally. Because meeting such people awakens something inside yourself and you make contact on an entirely different level.
IntroNote: I figured after my last post, which was critical of certain human behaviors, that it would good to balance that out and write a piece focusing on the good you encounter when meeting certain Souls. 🙂
It’s hard for me to imagine that sixty plus years have flown by. Day-by-day, we march on. At first enjoying the freedom that comes with having parents watching over us. Our only responsibility being to grow, explore, and learn. Then we leave the nest and become involved in whatever, hoping to return to that freedom someday. Somehow. Recapture that innocence. Where our Souls are not bound. Not tethered to material demands.
When I began writing this series, I had no idea the words would just keep on flowing beyond a single post. But, hey, that’s OK. I’ve enjoyed the writing, and we finally made it to that point in the story where I get to talk about my favorite little town along the “Grand and Turbid River to the North.” A town I actually never set foot in.
It was, as you may guess from the titles, Boquillas del Carmen otherwise known as Boquillas !!!
Now, there are a number of areas in the States that are “Big Sky Country.” And Big Bend is one of those places.* Where the horizons stretch on forever. A vast expanse. It’s difficult to tell where the Earth ends and the Sky begins.
It is a mirage within a mirage.
The only thing offering a tethering to the ground in Big Bend are the Chisos Mountains. They break the joint between skyline and chaparral and provide definition. They restore the sense of gravity that would otherwise vanish completely.
In these places we get that duality of striking beauty mixed with the desolate and dangerous. It’s enchanting and alluring here, but there is deception because if you’re not careful you could easily die from the elements.
When I arrived at Big Bend, half of the National Park, as well as the River running through it, remained closed to us humans due to COVID. But, nearby Big Bend Ranch State Park, and the section of the River running through it, were still running wild and free. No restrictions. And as I have learned in the past, one of the best vantage points to take in such alluring scenery is on the River that runs through it.
I had booked a day-trip and was joined by two other passengers to embark on a leisurely Oar Raft tour meandering through the River’s Colorado Canyon.
While most of my adventures involve hiking, or utilizing some other mode of travel like river rafting or horseback riding, through the wilderness, another very important part of this exploration, and of every escapade of mine, is a perusal through, and the translation of, the words describing the back country I’m reconnoitering. (Whew! That was a big sentence.) The words themselves can relay vital pieces of history or give you some historical context.
Right now I’m working on several posts, and in one in particular I ran across an interesting diversion. So I’m not yet sure where that story will take me. Or you later once I post it. 🙂
I the mean time, I figured I should write a post about why I started blogging. Or just writing in general. I think this one came from a writing prompt a while back and I simply forgot to post my response.
“In all things of nature there is something of the marvelous.”
A while back, I posted a couple of blogs where I talked about hiking, contrasted the differences between “hiking” and “walking,” and dissected the purpose of hiking; whether it be for camping or exploring some aspect of Nature in particular, or to just connect two dots on the map. And I also discussed the use of mantras for calling cadence, which can have miraculous effects on extending our endurance and the distance we can cover.
Our minds can overcome things our bodies cannot. And vice versa, our bodies can overcome things our minds cannot. Harmonizing both mind and body can make the difference between having a wonderful hiking adventure or facing a life versus death scenario.
I started out thinking of America as highways and state lines. As I got to know it better, I began to think of it as rivers. Charles Kuralt
I have to say this quote rings true. It resonates with me because I’ve been traveling for the past four years and what I’ve discovered is that the majority of population centers I’ve encountered are centered upon Rivers.
And it makes sense.
In the beginnings of our hostile takeover of these lands, Rivers provided the major sources of water and food. They provided the major travel and trading routes of the time. Those advantages persist, although they may have shifted in form.
Many of the people whom I’ve met in these towns have lost that historical connection. They no longer see the River or feel its Presence. They are detached from how these waterways formed the basis of their communities.*
And more importantly, how the Rivers shaped the land.
A river seems a magic thing. A magic, moving, living part of the very Earth itself.
Not all our time was spent on the River. We spent time exploring the many creations the River had made; amazing hikes into the side canyons at various stops along the way. Slot canyons, hidden waterfalls, miniature green oases sprouting from red granite, and magical turquoise and morenci blue tributaries . . .
The boats fully loaded and with us all onboard, our departure eased out slowly from Lee’s Ferry. We gracefully slid under the Navaho Bridges (Between Mile Markers 4 and 5), watching the California Condors perch on the bridges’ substructures.
Transplanted here in an attempt to help seed their survival, Gymnogyps californianus, were slowly clawing their way back from the brink of extinction. About forty years ago, there were only twenty-two in existence. These magnificent birds, sporting wingspans of ten feet, glide effortlessly on the thermals. And their numbers have now rebounded to about 500 today, spread out in Arizona, Utah, California, and Baja Mexico.
But it wouldn’t be long before this incredible peacefulness would be interrupted with the rapids, with names like, Badger Creek, Soap Creek, Brown’s Riffle, Sheer Wall, Redneck, and North Canyon. Some were simply named for mile-markers, like 23-Mile Rapid and 23.5 Mile-Rapid.