You have decided to venture onto the mighty Colorado River with some of your closest friends to test your courage on a paddleboard.  When you arrive at the banks of the waterway, where you will begin your adventure, you meet your guide.  She is a spunky rendition of Annie Oakley in a string bikini, braids and a trucker hat.  She greets you with a pile of gear—a lifejacket, a paddle, a helmet, a leash, and an oversized board.  Before she helps you into this bulky gear and begins her intro into paddleboarding, she has you sign your life away.  The risks spelled out in black and white do not faze excitement; you sign on the dotted line without question.  As your lifejacket is cinched beyond your lung capacity, you are reassured that this life saver will be your greatest friend of all time.  Your guide goes over safety protocols, paddle stroking, board orientation, then explains that the river has many temperaments, especially with the 20,000 cfs (cubic feet per second) raging past the shore. 

She tells you that there are smooth glassy sections that invoke care-free drifting where the water glides effortlessly downstream.  There are eddies which take the unassuming rookie back upstream, and the unforgiving eddy line where the two currents meet.  There are also sections of the river where chaos reigns--when the water passes over and through an obstacle and a mighty rapid is formed.  The guide shares her theory about successfully maneuvering through a rapid.  25% is entry, 25% is skill, 25% is the river’s will, and 25% is luck.  In her mind, there is a 50/50 chance of making it through a rapid unscathed.  With these odds, you fret about the terrifying and exhilarating experience of addressing these roaring monsters that await you downstream.  Ms. Oakley instructs you to execute a 45 degree angle to ferry across the current, choose your entry into the rapid, keep your craft straight when the waves surge with the flow, and keep faith in your paddle stroke.  Then her eyes glow with passion as she reminds you to never give up even when you think you have been beaten.  She assures you that the last push of water may release you from the grips of defeat.  With that she lets you loose in a recirculating eddy to apply the tips of engagement.

As you enter the flow and attempt to stand on your board, you realize it is a little shakier than you had anticipated.  Your legs find a new balance, using muscles you have never engaged before, dealing with the unstable environment of the water swirling around you.  You hear your guide cautioning you to keep your paddle in the water at all times, and this helps steady your teetering confidence.  Your flailing paddle keeps you upright one second, while the next you are submerged in an icy cold embrace.  The startling chill takes your breath away as your lifeline floats you near your board, which is dancing upon the surface.  With your paddle in one hand, you reach toward the handle and attempt to pull yourself up on your board.  There is nothing graceful about this maneuver as you grip, pull, push, kick, slither your way out of the water, and flop your extremities back onto your craft.  Drenched to your core you humbly acclimate to the flow.  Your guide decides you are all ready to start the adventure downstream.  You do not know what is in store as you embark upon this journey, but you keep an open mind and zest for the unfamiliar.  

Your guide explains that around the next bend is the first riffle you will encounter on your voyage.  She recommends dropping to your knees though the first set of rapids and hitting the waves straight with the bow of your board.  You are filled with anticipation and question your ability to make it through the raging waters.  She encourages you to continue breathing as the speed of the river accelerates faster than the heart pounding in your chest.  The roar becomes more deafening than a freight train; frothy water drenches and consumes your board from every direction, and time slows down.  You keep your eyes on the rising waves before you and brace your paddle to keep you upright.  In a matter of seconds, you have made it through to the other side still right side up and let out a holler in celebration.  You gather with your fellow comrades to share tales of the wild ride, wide grins all around.

You have a moment of reprieve as you regain your feet beneath you and relax into the flow.  The water is smooth sailing as it careens down multiple bends in the river.  You are able to counteract the various boils and whirlpools filling deep voids within the depths of the channel through which you float.  You are skimming the surface with effortless paddle strokes as you engage your core with the flow.  The beauty surrounding you polishes your character as it has done for eons of time.  The canyon walls etch their history, the blue heron follows you to the next rock just out of reach, the water churns, other birds sing, and the wind begins to whisper sweet nothings into your face.  Everything seems right in the world as you commune with your environment and become one with the flow.  You have found your groove, relaxing into the swift volume of moving water with ease and grace.

As you round the next bend those sweet nothings turn into a ferocious blast.  The wind raises its fury to let her presence be known.  There is no use cursing the gusts that slice through your bones.  Now it is time to stand and face the depths of your grit.  You put your head down, keep your paddle in the water, and continue to pick your way downstream.  The wind’s force blows you back upstream, making each motion vital to attain forward momentum.  You make peace with the elements as you unify your force with nature, one paddle stroke at a time.  The up-canyon breeze nearly knocks you off your board as it turns you sideways.  You return to your knees and per your guide’s bellows, stab your paddle in the water so the current can assist with your progression.  You relax into submission as you wait out the assault and continue downstream against all odds.  In good time, the wind lets up and releases the pressure within your mind.  

May I be an empty vessel, an opening for the true living Earth to rise through me, so I may deliver Earth medicine to those ready to receive her gift.  After setting the intention to dedicate my life to Earth and asking to be assimilated into the natural order, we set out on an adventure that peeled back the layers of my existence.  

Many questions lingered within my mind as we filled our packs with our food for the trip, cinching our loads to our backs.  I had never spent the night in the backcountry, with all of the essentials on my back within the desert landscape.  Snakes, spiders, and scorpions breaching my sleeping bag was a real fear while the test of enduring a long-distance was another palatable weakness.  One of the truths I live by: the only way out is through.  I knew I would meet challenges, I knew I had enough grit to get through, yet ultimately I knew there would be some pain and suffering as part of the process. 
 
In the photo above, my trusted companion and I dropped unfathomable vertical feet down into the canyon floor.  There was a lightly etched trail where many had passed upon the surface, praying that each step to hold their weight.  We chose the counter-route of the ranger's advice, meeting the traffic of fellow travelers upon their own soul quest.  We met the wary eyes of Lamar with his stories and perspective of our collective adventure, an 80 year old grandfather, a young 10 year-old sprite, and a handful of nameless adventurers sharing the canyons with us along the way.

At every opportunity we  dropped our packs and attempted to find a way to reach Ancient Puebloan sites. The pathways up to cliff dwellings was more of a scramble than a walk in the park.  The people who made the canyon their home were a tough stock.  We found granaries with pottery shards, corn, wood, stacked rock, kivas, rock dwellings, and rock art within nooks and crannies beyond the comfort of the beaten path.  And, sometimes we found nothing at all--mislead by our guidebook's vague maps--more than once.  It is hard to imagine the reality of the previous stewards of the canyons we visited, yet their spirits are alive and well within their remnants that have stood the tests of time.        

The non-existent trail followed a creek bed that carried our drinking water within its banks.  Bouldering with full packs was not in the memo--a slow and unstable route.  Crossing the creek, bushwhacking, recrossing the creek, venturing through wild terrain was the course, each step counting.  I named myself Steady Betty, as I was much slower than my speedy companion.  My legs ached, my feet blistered, by shoulders cried for reprieve, yet there were miles upon miles to make, each bend within the canyon opening its beauty into new depths.  Being present in the moment and witnessing the natural order unfold despite my discomfort was a force that kept me going against all odds.

Another question that took me deeper into my intention was could I humbly release the ego to accept the responsibility of being a living expression of Earth embodied?  Mother Theresa's words paraphrased:  She (the earth) will use you to accomplish great things on the condition that you believe much more in her LOVE than in your weakness. These words carried me through the bending of my mind.  I reminded myself when I would relate to my weakness to stay the course, continue to open to the opportunity to grow beyond my limits, redefining my edge, and return to the earth for sustenance, security and peace.

We stopped 6 miles the first night and made camp, while making 8 miles the next.  Making tea with water collected from the stream, heating up food in our packets of Indian delights, and preparing our sleeping arrangements was our evening ritual.  In the stillness, the wild sang their harmonies with the natural rhythm. We heard owls, canyon wrens, and frogs, serenading each other as the stars dotted the darkening canopy.  Feet sore from improper socks and bodies sore from carrying our loads, it did not take us long to enter into dreamtime.  

Our last evening, I asked to receive a vision from the Ancient Ones.Being a novice, I hung our bag of food near the tent.  There was a weather front blowing through which rustled the tent most of the evening.  At one point in my dream, I thought something was getting into our food.  I opened the tent (in the dream) and saw the biggest black bear I have ever seen coming toward me.  My first instinct was to go out and grab the food and bring it into the tent.  As I huddled inside, I realized my flaw and woke up my friend.  When I looked back out there was a stampede of many animals going by getting out of way of the impending flood.  I woke up with a start and had to check to make sure all was well.  The vision was clear and the meaning continues to unfold.

The last morning there was a beautiful rainbow of color between the canyon walls.  A sight to be seen, yet a warning to the canyon adventurer; rain on its way.  We had 3 miles left yet we had to climb out of the canyon. It was a gradual ascent instead of the abrupt entry, yet it was still an amazing feat with a loaded pack, thank god for my walking stick!  We passed a few dry waterfalls which would be awesome to witness  when the unharness force of water unleashes its fury, us far from its path of destruction. We scaled the canyon walls and passed a cliff dwelling on our way out, a prize for our determined focus.  

When we summited the edge of the canyon and looked back, it was an amazing sight to behold.  We had come so far and received so much. Vigilance,  focus, tenacity, endurance, mind over matter, being present, serenity, peace, stillness, steadiness, healing old wounds/stories, surety, trust, comradery, certainty with each step, honoring limitations, and embracing the wild, undomesticated ancient energy were a few of the gifts from the canyons.   On my wish list, ultra light gear makes it to the top! 

As for integration, this trip has changed my life.  I continue to weave into my life what I learned from the heart of canyon country:  May I have the endurance to withstand pressure and discomfort; may I have the strength to see it through each quest; my vision of the Living Earth resides within those canyon walls--the rock formations etched within my mind; may the energy that comes through me reflect the depths of this experience; may I be present--one step at a time, carry only what I need, and be grateful for what I have--what is offered is a gift--an exchange of an interplay of elements; may my relationship to Earth and All of Creation be my primary focus--all else will fall into place, may I give back, trust the process, trust myself, be gentle, and stay the course.  I am delighted for the wisdom from this Sol Journey, the first of many!