There is really no better place in the world to recover one’s visual ability to perceive depth than Sedona, Arizona. What started as a vague feeling of being home, someplace special full of birdsong and clean air, has evolved into the slow unveiling of the palatial paradise I am standing within. It feels like enlightenment, the ecstatic realization of where you already are.
When I first arrived here a month ago, I couldn’t carry my own body weight to the kitchen to get a cup of water without assistance. My vision was double or prismatic. My debilitating headaches kept me in forced meditation to cope. I slept… always … and a single activity would put me out for hours. Two days ago, I hiked 7 miles and came home and did housework. Yesterday, I poo-haa-ed around with a friend for 6 hours and then went out dancing til 1 in the morning. I am back and vibrant and grateful. And I am shaking a hefty finger at Sedona for pulling such a trick. Did the place really have to strike me with a metaphorical lightning bolt on the side of a mountain to get me to come back here? I would believe it if that’s what happened, because Sedona keeps its own.
I have 3 more weeks here before I attempt to leave once more.I have bills, family, and aspirations to attend to that reside primarily in New York City in the moment. In those three weeks I hope to thump love into the red ground with my persistant footsteps, to thank such an exquisite place for bringing me back to myself.