Sedona is located in the mountains of Arizona. For many, it is simply a sophisticated and pleasant city with excellent hotels, restaurants, and a wide variety of entertainment activities, from rapids rafting to balloon rides. Added to this is its proximity to the Grand Canyon, a breathtaking landscape with a fantastic telluric vibration, or to Jerome, an old settlement that emerged around a copper mine, which was shut down by authorities after a major collapse in the early 20th century. With the closure of its main economic activity, the population left in search of better opportunities. Jerome became a ghost town. A few years ago, abandoned houses were occupied by artists with little money but great ideas. The result was wonderful: a huge variety of art galleries, cozy bars with refined cuisine, and high-quality music emerged. On weekends, Jerome buzzes with people seeking beauty and entertainment. Sedona is enchanting. However, there is something more. There is another Sedona, hidden from the eyes and interests of ordinary tourists. It is a sacred place for native peoples, where they performed their magical ceremonies long before the region was colonized by Europeans. The energy anchored in that time has been preserved for generations by committed and silent shamans. Several vortexes have been kept intact and function as powerful and invisible bridges for exchanges between existential dimensions. Starry Song, the shaman gifted with the ability to pass down his people’s ancestral philosophy through stories and songs, just as his ancestors did, is one of the spiritual guardians responsible for keeping these portals open and protected in the forests and mountains surrounding the city. As an authentic keeper of wisdom, he leads the crossing when authorized by the noble guardians on the other side of the bridge.
Upon arriving, I was surprised by the presence of Valentina, a dear friend and fellow member of the Esoteric Order of the Mountain Monks. Like me, she had travelled from afar to live and learn with Starry Song. After sincere expressions of joy at our reunion, I sat beside them on the porch. Without any rush, the shaman lit his signature pipe with a red stone stummel, took a few puffs, and then asked Valentina to continue her story. She was recounting the emotions she had felt at her mother’s burial a few weeks earlier. Deeply shaken, relatives and friends had wept a lot. They recalled many shared moments, emphasizing her mother’s immense joy in celebrating life. Some wrote long, beautiful texts to express their emotions. Valentina, however, had not shed a single tear, she admitted. Even though she had cared for her mother for the last two years, when her autonomy had diminished, and their bond had deepened, Valentina confessed that she felt no sadness. In truth, she felt relief and, shame of all shames, even joy. Some family members, upon sensing her true emotions, so incompatible with the expected demeanour at a funeral, criticized Valentina. Unlike everyone else, she seemed exuberant, as if she were celebrating that delicate moment. And indeed, that was how she felt. This whirlwind of emotions confused her. She had always seen herself as sensitive and loving, praised for the poetry she wrote about love. Yet, in the face of so much sorrow, she had shown herself to be an insensitive woman. She wished she could have cried like the others, but she could not lie to herself. She had not felt the urge. She despised her own reflection in the mirror.
Before Starry Song could make any comment, we were interrupted by the arrival of Lee, the shaman’s nephew. Slender in build and with long black hair, keeping with the traditions of his indigenous ancestors, the handsome young man carried unrest in his gaze. He worked for one of the world’s largest technology companies, headquartered in San Francisco. Dedicated to his job, honest, and gentle in his relationships, Lee had recently been reprimanded by his boss, accused of omitting some information in a project for which his team was responsible. He had endured harsh words. He explained that it had been a misunderstanding, a simple communication error. It was true that he had left out certain actions, but not because he intended to hide anything, let alone with any ulterior motive. He had simply considered them irrelevant, nothing more. Still, he felt terrible about the unjust accusation, while his boss felt betrayed and deceived. The work environment had turned sour; Lee even considered resigning. The problem was, he loved both his job and the company he worked for. Confused by his conflicting thoughts and emotions, he took a few days off to travel to Sedona and talk with his uncle.
Despite their different stories, Valentina and Lee shared the same perspective: the world is cruel. Doing one’s best is never enough. There will always be a crowd waiting for any excuse to tear you down, they agreed in unison. Starry Song listened to them in silence. Then he said, “There is more in common between these two situations than you might think. Meet me here tomorrow before sunrise. We will climb the mountain.” We all understood that we were going to a vortex for a sacred ceremony. The shaman allowed me to join them.
We drove up the mountain in Starry Song’s battered pickup truck until the narrow, rutted dirt road ended. From there, we hiked for about half an hour until we reached a vast stone plateau with a breathtaking view of the entire region. This was the Heart of the World vortex, as it was called. As we arrived, for a brief moment, I had the clear sensation that many natives were watching us. My imagination is playing tricks on me, I thought. There was no one there but the four of us. Yet, Starry Song bowed in greeting as if acknowledging unseen presences. He asked for permission and removed his shoes to walk barefoot on sacred ground. By definition, sacred is anything that makes us better people. We sat on a blanket spread out inside a circle drawn at the centre of the plateau, each of us occupying a cardinal point, those of the Buffalo, the Eagle, the Fox, and the Bear, according to the ancient native tradition. Then, the shaman drummed a vibrant ancestral chant, as if seeking permission to open the interdimensional bridge. With our eyes closed, we let ourselves be carried by the rhythm, as if galloping on a wild horse across an endless prairie. The Heart of the World beat faster. The song’s tone gradually softened; as it ended, we dismounted. We opened our eyes. Starry Song was watching us intently.
He said, “We are here because you told me the world is cruel. Can you explain why?”. Valentina explained that her entire life she had longed to be loved by her mother the way she had felt as a child. But in adolescence, her mother’s behaviour changed when she started dating. As an adult, the rejection became intense and aggressive. She was never invited to gatherings at her mother’s house and was constantly criticized in front of others. She noticed how her mother was always kind and warm with everyone, except her. Surrounded by friends at her beach house, exchanging affection and kindness, her mother became irritable in her daughter’s presence. Valentina tried countless times to be part of this circle of love, but her mother never let her in. Nor did she ever offer an explanation when Valentina attempted to talk about it. In old age, illness robbed her mother of mobility. Family and friends drifted away. It was Valentina who took care of her mother alone, until the very end. On that final day, she told her mother once again that she loved her. And for the first time, her mother gave a beautiful and sincere smile and finally said, “I love you too”. Then she closed her eyes and departed for the High Lands. Yes, the world is very cruel, Valentina concluded. For when she finally heard the words she had always longed for, the very next moment, her mother was gone.
Then, it was Lee’s turn. He recounted that one day in childhood, the teacher gathered the class to talk about a toy that had gone missing. They had searched the entire school without finding it. She asked everyone to show the contents of their backpacks. One by one, the students opened theirs. When it was Lee’s turn, he was stunned to find the toy inside. Someone had planted it there to incriminate him. He tried to explain, but no one believed him. Since then, every day, he has not been content in being just honest and transparent in his relationships, but he also strives to make sure everyone recognizes it. Now, years later, he found himself accused of hiding information he had no intention of concealing. Though the information was in the code of the software they developed, he had not highlighted it in the report because he considered it irrelevant. And it was. Yet, his honour and conduct were publicly questioned. It seemed as if this stain on his character would unjustly follow him forever. Without a doubt, the world is cruel.
Without a word, Starry Song began to beat his double-sided drum again. This time, the melody was warm and welcoming; the Heart of the World embraced us. The shaman turned to Valentina and said, “We live many lifetimes. Achievements and debts make up the inheritance of the spirit for the next existence. In each one, we coexist with old acquaintances from other times, not always in a friendly manner. That is where the next conquest lies; I do not mean the domination of the other but the refinement of the spirit in its quest to make peace with ancestral relationships. In your early childhood, you were loved by your mother; when you became a woman, for some reason that doesn’t matter now, she stopped seeing you as a daughter and began to see you as a competitor. What ancestral impressions did she carry from past existences that made her feel such animosity? We do not know, not even she knew, but a dense emotion permeated her spirit. The cause no longer matters because our ancestral memory is temporarily erased so that we may learn to use love as an effective method of repair, regeneration, and rebirth. The harmful feelings carried over from past lives can only be transformed by the hands of love. This is part of the art that cannot be divided”. He paused before continuing: “Your love was valuable in not giving up on rebuilding a broken bridge to reach her heart. The crossing was completed moments before her final breath when, at last, she did not succumb to ancestral fears and sorrows but allowed herself to be enveloped by the love you tirelessly and endlessly offered. The new heals the old, so it may be reborn different and better; this is the code of life. Love overcame hatred, erasing the impressions of time forever. Then, she was granted permission to depart in peace, a peace that also belongs to you, for you have earned it. Your love won her over. Celebrate it!”
And he continued: “This is why you did not feel sadness at your mother’s funeral. It was not insensitivity but joy, the triumph of light over the shadows that had long dominated your relationship. Your bond was not the same as the others who wept that day. Their stories with her were filled with daily affection and kindness; yours was a relentless struggle to uphold the light and consecrate a love that was once rejected. It is no surprise that your feelings were different. Others will miss the pleasant moments they shared with her, no doubt, that is true. You will feel joy for having won the battle of life: light defeated darkness; love erased resentment forever”. He paused briefly before continuing: “No, life is not cruel and never has been. When your mother was left in your care, when she could no longer offer others the delights and sweetness of an effortless relationship, everyone withdrew. They cared but preferred to keep their distance, a surface love, avoiding the deep commitment of devotion and dedication. That was your moment, the time for greater love. And you did not shy away from the challenge. I can imagine how often you recalled being excluded from her parties and humiliated in front of others. But you brushed away the fog of grievances and the tempting escapes of resentment; you placed love above all and let your light shine at full intensity. Your heart became greater than the world, expanding the boundaries of life. Without a doubt, it was a far different story than the ones she lived with others; with you, she experienced a complete narrative, one of hardship, but above all, of commitment and triumph. You gave her the most beautiful story she had ever known. Because of her resistance to love and growth, she needed to live in a body full of limitations so that she could no longer deny the love that ultimately ended a conflict from another time. Life is wise. Be grateful for the world’s love in granting you this opportunity.”
Then, he concluded: “And so came death, an act of love from life itself, offering regeneration, the liberation of a spirit imprisoned in a body by sorrows that had deformed and limited it, now allowing it to expand toward evolution. Through strange paths, the world provided the exact experiences you both needed to live. This is true for everyone, as long as we learn to read the divine stories, which require love and wisdom in the form of patience and compassion, perception and sensitivity”. Tears streamed down Valentina’s face; the lost smile had been found; her heart was now one with the Heart of the World.
He turned to Lee and said, “Do not wait for others to recognize your worth to feel happy; never seek anyone’s permission to be whole; never allow yourself to be measured by a measuring ruler that is not your own. We are the size of our choices, the greatness of the light we radiate. No more, no less. Only truth matters; only virtues shape the spirit. Everything else is less. No one builds themselves upon the opinions of others, so there is no reason to let them destroy you. Never allow such folly! Be the best you can be at every moment, and move forward in peace, undisturbed by the noise and roars of the world.”
His nephew interrupted, arguing that if the world threatens us with noise and roars, then yes, the world is cruel. Without realizing it, Lee had brought us to the crucial point of that transformational ceremony, as all sacred ceremonies are. Starry Song furrowed his brow and said, “The world is neither good nor bad; it is merely a valuable and endless source of experiences. The way we process each experience creates the good or bad reality we live in. No one lives in the world, we live in the reality we build within ourselves.” He paused so we could begin to connect the ideas, then continued, “Two people can live through the exact same situation; one will grow beyond themselves, while the other will shrink, falling short of their potential. One experience, two different results, because they were processed through different lenses. Let me repeat this, so there is no doubt: we do not live in the world but in the reality we construct through how we process our experiences. This varies from person to person. The soul is the laboratory where we recognize, refine, and manifest the outcome of each experience. Understanding how this laboratory functions, both its existing limitations and the infinite possibilities for refining reality into a new and elevated truth, makes technological progress a metaphorical equivalent to the evolution of the spirit. Poorly processed experiences build insurmountable walls; when well understood, they give us the wings needed to soar over the abysses of misunderstanding.”
The ceremony continued with the shaman’s words: “The refinement of the laboratory allows for the creation of a different and better reality every day. The most incredible thing about all of this is that we can reprocess not only present situations but also everything we have lived in the past that, having been poorly processed at the time, still causes destructive impacts within us. Healing is about removing the evil within us, which is only possible when we can reinterpret life”. Empirical by philosophical formation, Lee wanted to know how to apply this teaching in practice. Starry Song explained: “Pay attention to lenses and filters. The point of observation changes the understanding of a situation, just as we must not allow ourselves to be contaminated by dense emotions. The lion and the eagle perceive the abyss differently because they see it from different angles; the absence of a filter turns water, which is essential for life, into poison.”
He waited a few moments for us to process these ideas and continued: “Laboratories originated in kitchens. Preparing food is the most tangible and ancient human experience. We know that we can never make something sweet by using salt instead of sugar. The same applies to relationships, whose results will always depend on the ingredients used. If we use pride, vanity, the demand for perfection, lies, malice, selfishness, jealousy, and anger, we will inevitably end up with a bitter and unhealthy dish. If we use humility, simplicity, compassion, sincerity, purity, generosity, gentleness, and, ultimately, the countless ways of loving, we will have the perfect recipe for delicious and nourishing meals”. He raised his hand to make an important clarification: “Do not be mistaken, every person eats the food they prepare. The experiences we process result in either joy or suffering. Light or shadow, the results depend solely on the ingredients used and how we choose to process them. This is how each person shapes the reality they live in. Invariably”. He arched his lips in a subtle smile and added: “When experiences are well-processed, drawing another analogy, this time with theatre, we understand that reality expands as if life were a stage with infinite curtains revealing countless unimaginable scenes. These are the settings in which we live. A crude laboratory offers a rudimentary, short, and narrow stage, reducing the possibilities for performance. Everything will be simplistic, crude, and distasteful. The text will lack depth and breadth. This is the reality when we process an experience using our personal shadows as filtering elements”. He struck the two-faced drum as if to shift the vibrational frequency and said: “Never use someone else’s malice as an excuse to justify your own mistakes. Evil only takes root in fertile soil.”
He gazed at the horizon as if searching for inspiration and concluded: “When we process the same experience with love and wisdom, the truth tears through the shallow limits of known reality, expanding beyond the possibilities previously allowed. In short, the world remains the same; what changes is how we walk through it. Bitter days become sweet when we change our perspective through a better processing of lived experiences. To burrow like a frightened armadillo, flee like a scared rabbit, bite like an enraged crocodile, or coerce a herd like a hungry lion, none of these behaviours are the jungle’s fault. The eagle flies serenely because it sees the world from above.”
Stillness and silence. A rebellious tear escaped down Lee’s face; the young man nodded and smiled, showing that he understood the wisdom offered at that moment. We remained quiet for an indeterminate amount of time. It was the moment to absorb the significance of the ritual so that we could apply its teachings moving forward. Any conflict, suffering, or fear signifies experiences that need to be reprocessed in order to transform reality. We live the reality shaped within us before expressing it in the world. Finally, Starry Song played a joyful melody on the two-faced drum. Joy originates from the ability to find the good side of all things, people, and situations. The two faces of the drum represent the eternal choices, between shadow and light, always available to everyone at any moment. Inexorably. At last, he told us to dance with the Heart of the World. Beforehand, he explained: “Dancing grants control over the body’s movements, a valuable awareness to awaken sensitivity to the movements of the spirit that we are, but whose infinite capacities we have yet to understand.” We danced from the sun’s presence until the hour of the moon. Sacred ceremonies serve transformation. Otherwise, they are merely celebrations.
Translated by Cazmilian Zórdic.
