Note: This appeared in two parts, in the December 2003 and January 2004 issues of PlanetLightworker Magazine. Climbing The Mountain By Jim PathFinder Ewing (Nvnehi Awatisgi) So many people seem to be finding obstacles and lessons in their lives right now, it can seem overwhelming. Everyone's life seems to be disrupted, often in major ways, with personal relationships, living situations, jobs . . . all the things that "matter." These are important to people, because they define who and what they are, but they are also unimportant, though that may seem hard to grasp. It is keeping balance that is important, for we all must walk a path between the reality of what is around us and the reality of what is within us. Only in balance is found the true reality, or what is really "real" within us, before us and around us. In the balance between our Higher Power within us (that which is eternal) and our personalities (who we think we are and how we define ourselves in this 3-D world), we find our authentic self. It is a dance, an interplay, that leads us upward in a Spiral of Ascension, discovering ourselves along the way. With all the messages, phone calls, discussions, counseling and journeying for clients over the past two months, I am reminded of my sojourn to Black Mesa. Spirit had called me to be there, and there were many things I had to do - and learn. The first two days were filled with ceremonies that Spirit asked me to do, for the land, for the Earth, for all beings, above and below, for the Universe. The second two days were devoted to ceremonies that Spirit asked me to do for myself, so that I could be better attuned to the Earth and Power, and be a better vessel for this time and this place: my soul purpose. The fifth day was a day of rest and orientation: integrating these energies. Each "day" was infinite, as each was spent mostly in the all-time, no-time of Spirit; but each was a "day" of things to be done, and each had its own many purposes. Time can be "divided" in many ways. Time itself is a concept only for us who live in polarity. For, in the Creator's eyes, all time is all now; or, put another way, everything happens all at once. We only divide time in linear fashion so our limited 3-D minds can make it manageable. Bear in mind, during this time, that we are experiencing the life lessons we were put here to learn. Remember that they arise in ways unique to us, in our unique situations, and they come as we are able to handle them. We are not given more than we can handle, though it may seem so, at times. Sometimes, what we are experiencing is to prepare us for what is to come or make the transition to where we need to be to do what we came here to do. For me, a major goal for several years has been to find the Stillpoint, that place where things come from, the place of balance between what is within and without, and make it a living reality in my life: Learning to Live In The Stillpoint. Part of that process has been to tackle my own obstacles, or barriers, to being where I need to be, to be who I am, in the way the Creator meant for me to be. That is why each year I go on a Spirit Quest, which I did in August, to touch what is meaningful in my life by leaving behind the day-to-day pressing concerns that tend to distract from the true meaning of life. I chose to climb Black Mesa during my Spirit Quest, and the lessons there may have some meaning for others in this time. So, I share them. Finding The Goal One of my goals in the Oklahoma-New Mexico desert was to climb to the one-mile high Black Mesa's summit. This was the third time I had been to this place. Each time something had prevented me from performing this task. The first time, in 2000, I had only just discovered this place and had other places to be and things to do; I wasn't prepared and could not approach the task with the right reverence and respect. I didn't know that at the time, and was bitterly disappointed that I couldn't just up and do it, but Spirit knew. I wanted to climb the mountain, but could not. The second time, in 2002, I thought I was ready (in 2001, I just didn't have the time or resources to make the trip, but vowed I would do so the next year). I went to the Mesa with the intent to climb it. But again circumstances got in the way. The enormity of the whole task was greater than I thought. Instead, I did ceremony at the mesa's base, extensively explored its boundaries, and met the spirits of the place, but didn't climb to the summit. This was to teach me that I must do more work to be prepared for what was awaiting me there, the reality of it, and it a laid the groundwork for what was to come. I was disappointed, again, but accepted the lesson, being grateful that I had the opportunity to learn more. The third time, in August, I set aside enough time, arrived with the help of Spirit at the right time, and had prepared myself for a year to do it right - with much prayer and preparation. It was done in true sacred manner, and so I was prepared not only to take the action but to receive the full benefit. It took three years and three attempts for me to be able to do what I wanted. I wanted to climb the mountain, that was my goal, but the mountain required that I change first to meet the goal. Such is the way of many things in life. We don't always get what we want when we want it, and when we get it, it may not be what we thought it was going to be, but something entirely different. We may want something, even with all our mind, heart and spirit, but if we're not ready to receive it, "become it," we must do other things to prepare ourselves. If we don't consciously make the changes required, Spirit will present those lessons we need to be prepared. Then, we can achieve the goal (if it's still a goal that is needed). Our perceived needs and the requirements of the goal must come into alignment in order for our intent to come into manifestation in reality. We create a goal, we change to meet the goal, our circumstances change, and the "goal" becomes a new reality. We are, thereby, forever changed, with a new reality and new goals. Meeting The Goal In this trip, I was told by Spirit to bring many things. I couldn't understand why, but did as Spirit told me to do. I was told to bring all my sacred objects - feathers, rocks, wands, crystals, you name it. Altogether, it ended up being about a 35-pound backpack - plus the weight of water added. It was quite a burden, since temperatures in the dry desert hovered around 106 degrees. It was a 10-mile hike, with two of those miles going straight up and straight down the mountain. Even though my intent was strong, about halfway into the hike, I began to have doubts that I would physically achieve it. The heat was unbearable; there was no shade. The sun beat down unbearably, not conducive to vigorous activity. The miles seemed to stretch away. The goal seemed unattainable, seeming to get no closer. I had to adjust. Rather than seeing the goal as the summit, I began to see the goal as "going to" the summit. Rather than projecting being on top of the Mesa, I had so see each step as an event in itself, the true reality of each step. If I saw the steps only as means to a goal, then the steps were not appreciated, were discounted. There was danger: rattlesnakes, difficult terrain, no one knowing where I was. What if I slipped and was injured or bitten by a poisonous snake? What if I was overcome by the heat? What if no one found me? What if I got there and was physically unable to make it back? These were fears, and I had to deal with them. In dealing with these fears, I had a choice. I could go on despite my fear, or turn back, defeated by them, and by the seeming impossibility of the task. Or, I could stop, take stock and see if my goal were realistic. It could be a life-and-death decision. It was important that I treat it with respect. So, I stopped in my tracks and took inventory: where I was, where I was coming from, where I wanted to go, and how I could achieve what I wanted to do, or what adjustments had to be made to meet the present situation. My solution was to respect the reality of each moment. Each moment was as important, maybe more so, than the idea of actually being on the summit, my goal. And I realized, too, that as important as it was for me to reach the summit, the goal of returning safely all the way from the summit back to where I began was of equal importance. So, I became present, truly present, and asked the Creator for help; I called in my guides and spirits, uncradled my drum, burned sage, gave offerings and held counsel with Spirit. In this way, this quest became a marriage of body and spirit, of mind and of heart, facing the physical reality and balancing it with inner guidance. It was no longer just an idea, something "I" would do, but a part of the life of the moment on this planet, as a part of everything. I was shown that I must be aware of my fears, but not let them guide me; they were not reality, but only potential; the reality of them would or would not come; I could only operate from what was before me at the moment, and have faith that I could and would meet whatever challenge came. Why fear? Why focus on fear? How can one live in joy if one is preoccupied by fear? Even if one is alive, if the mind is preoccupied with potential for injury or death and the heart is turned off to the joy of the moment, one is not living. It is a living death; one is better off dead. At least, in death, there is liberation from concerns of the body. So, why not be alive now? Liberated now? Let death be a companion, but not a guide. Let living be here now. After this inventory, I knew I was prepared; I knew that this moment was here for a reason; and I knew that I could adapt to whatever occurred in the moment, with the balance of mind, body and spirit. These are the gifts that the Creator offered. I had only to be truly present to receive them, along with whatever surprises came along the way. Afterwards, I went on toward my goal with a new appreciation for the process of achieving it: each step as a prayer, each moment as something to be savored, an "achievement" in itself as important as the goal itself. My goal was an idea; each moment is a reality to be appreciated and fully lived. There were many wonders on that path I would have missed had I not stopped to take inventory. The journey itself became a delight, timeless, no hurry, each moment a great gift - even the worries, for they were an invigorating part of the process, too, as part of the path of discovery. Becoming The Goal Before I knew it, I was climbing the top of the mountain itself, the path behind me long and far below and filled with beautiful moments, the summit at hand almost an afterthought. Each turn on the path along the craggy mountaintop became a precious moment that filled me with excitement, true joy, and even sadness that the goal was almost reached. I didn't want it to end. How grateful I was that I had stopped to savor each moment; how wonder filled it was to see that each moment along the way had itself had been a challenge and an achievement. Now I saw, it was almost over. Thank God, I thought, the journey had been enjoyed to its fullest, for that was the "summit" after all. I was fulfilled, with each new step only a greater gift for a heart that was overflowing. Then, I was at the top, and the world stretched out at my feet all around me. I could see as far as I could see and beyond, knowing there were many places and many things that my heart could feel but my body and mind could only dream. I was limited only by my physical body's ability to perceive; my mind and heart were limitless. I knew that I was glimpsing, held only by being in my body, the ultimate goal we all seek: being one with everything. FELT SUCH AN AIR OF ACHIEVEMENT. I had done this, alone, by myself, without help from anyone. And here I was. I had achieved my goal, what I had been praying and preparing for and dreaming about for years. This was it. I was here. And I looked about me, and I was the only one there. It was me, the mountain, the Earth, the sky, in communion in this place, at this time. And I was overwhelmed. It lasted a good moment. And then, I saw a movement next to me. I jumped back, startled. Two little eyes were appraising me. First, I feared: was it a snake? Then, I saw, it was a little horned toad. And I laughed. I realized that I was not alone. That Spirit was all around me. That I was one with everyone I had ever met, had ever known, and was a part of them, and they a part of me, and they were with me now, even the little beings seen and unseen all around me. It is life. And life is all around and shared. We only see with different eyes the same Spirit. Whether snake or horned toad, eagle or buzzard, lover or rival, we are one, always. We only see what we choose to see and how we want to see it.It is life. Complete. We each are a part, but not apart. It's only how we choose to see it. I didn't make this trip alone. It wasn't "my" achievement. Everyone I had ever met and ever known, whose life I had ever touched, or whose life touched mine, every person and even every little animal, like the little toad appraising me, and it's shadow fear for me, a snake, had a part in it. We create our own mountains, with many others, and we all are there, and in the valleys, at the same time. And I laughed again. Thank you, God! I said aloud. And meant it. For I was God, and God was me, and we were one with all beings, with all our strengths and weaknesses, and feelings of oneness and being apart, and fears and boasts, achievements and despairs. All God. All One, seen with many eyes. At the summit, I was not "above" or "below." I simply was. From a different vantage.And that is how God is. And the love I felt, for God, for me, for everyone and everything, despite my "loves" and "hates" and hopes and prejudices, were all of one piece. Simply "now." And it was good. It was life. In process. Eternal. And it was divine. "So, what now, Creator?" I asked out loud at this summit, surrounded by limitless vistas, the visible world at my feet. I felt as if I had died and gone to heaven. I was timeless on the mountain. And I saw, yet again, another path. This path followed the ridge of the summit. Each step was a different view of the same Earth below as far as the eye could see, the same sky above to infinity. I walked along it, feeling as if I were walking on air; the Earth beneath my feet barely holding me from simply floating off into the beyond. Before long, on this path before me, I saw a lone tree, casting the only shade from the bright sun above. I went as if my steps were guided to sit beneath it, knowing that is where I belonged, with all the time in the world to enjoy it. Again I unpacked my bag, laid out my sacred objects, one by one, and knew that this is why I had to bring them all.What I carried on my back up the mountain was every "thing" I held sacred. Spirit had told me to make sure I brought every "thing" I keep in my medicine bundles and I had done so. And now I knew why. With them laid out before me, I saw why I had chosen each "thing," what it meant to me, how I had found it or it had come to me, and what I used it for. And I was amazed. It was an inventory of my life and everything I held dear; my hopes and dreams and beliefs and fears and actions and things given and things taken. Each was a symbol, and each was a concrete thing that represented the things I carried in my mind, my heart, my psyche. It had been a heavy burden to carry these things up the mountain; and I saw that was part of the lesson. On the mountaintop, I was tired of carrying these things, and I wanted to shed them all. But Creator had a different plan. Look at these things, Spirit told to me. Look at what you carry around with you and how you use them, or don't use them. What is it that you truly need? What do you need to let go? You carried them up here, and you must carry them back. But remember what you see here. The time will come when you won't need any "thing." And at that moment, I knew that I did not need any "thing" then, or anymore. These things I carried were only reflections of what I carried inside me and were always with me, and were only a small part of what was available to me. The lesson is not to be limited by what you think of as "yours" and carry around with you, the burden of the past and of attachment to things, that you carry into the present and into the future and that limit your vision, limit who you think you are and what you think you can do. Every "thing" is yours, and available, inside you, only waiting to be reflected in the world around you, if you will only open yourself to perceive and use them. And there are many more "things" than you can ever imagine, much less carry up a mountain! And each and every "thing" is sacred. Spirit had me carry these things, this heavy burden, up the mountain so that I could physically feel how much I had burdened and limited myself. However much I love and revere the sacredness of these "things," however much Power they hold, they are only a tiny sample of the love and sacrality found within and without. They can be tools to unlock secrets held within, and can be useful for the healing, growth and development of self and others, but they can be limiting in a limitless universe. That is what I had to know and Spirit had to teach me, in a way that I would remember. Be careful what you choose to carry. You cannot reach out and grasp new love, new insights, new gifts, new being, if your mind, hands and heart are full of "things" and are burdened to capacity by them. And so, I sat beneath this lone tree, a twisted and gnarled testament of tenacious life and survival in a difficult world, this tree, I saw, itself The Tree of Life, and saw what had burdened my heart, mind and soul. And I knew it was time to review and cast off unneeded things, and open my hands and heart for what lay before me. I heard a cry and looked up, and there was a lone eagle, flying lazy circles in the sky, and we were one. High above the world. Soaring, looking for food to sustain us. We communed for a while, in silence. Two brothers, enjoying the interplay of life and death, our place within the panoply. It was time to go. The Long Road BackThe way down the mountain was as long as going up the mountain. Again, the journey was filled with discoveries, joys and disappointments. But I knew that because I had met my goal, and had found that the goal is not more important than the way toward the goal, that each step returning was as valuable, too. Now, I have the heart of the Mesa inside me. It beats with my heart. At any moment, I can be at and with the Mesa again. And this has sustained me, when I have confronted troubles. I share his because in each life we have goals and wants, gifts and obstacles, we learn what we need to learn when we need to learn it, and cannot learn or achieve whatever it is that we want until we are prepared and ready. Simply because there are obstacles in our path, or diversions, fears or doubts does not mean that we will not achieve our goals. But we may find that more is to be learned along the way - even by meeting these diversions, fears and doubts -- than achieving what we think we need. What we really need may be precisely what's at hand. And our lives unfold as a process, which means we must incorporate what is around us in order to find what we want to be around us. Even so, once we are ready and, finally prepared to meet a goal, it may be that the goal we once wanted is not the one that is needed to be achieved. It may no longer be part of our life path, for the path has changed for a better one, more in keeping with our soul purpose.