Vision Quest: Stirrings From The Far West…

There's a lot I could say about sitting in the wilderness for extended days and nights on end. We’ll see what stirs as I put this pen to paper…

Mountain valley cocooned me, my humble nest situated in dense forest, surrounded by bracken fern and eucalypt trees, young and old.

Relentless rains and howling winds formed much of the backdrop. Some moments were hair raising. Ancient trees and heavy branches would fall in the dark of night. Some of them were earth shaking. Thunderous.

During those stormy moments there was no way of knowing whether I'd be crushed by a falling tree or thick limb. I could either come in early and end my quest, or, pray. So I prayed and prayed and prayed some more.

I prayed to great spirit, the ancient ones, my ancestors, those that guide me on my path, the spirits of place and to all relatives. For protection, to see me through sunset to sunrise. The way I pray is mostly through song. I sang sweet melodies to all the great nature beings that were holding me and listening.

I'm thankful to have had a tarp, some rope, wet weather gear, and a couple of blankets to give me some ounce of warmth and shelter over those five nights in the wild.

I came to terms with death multiple times over, the threat of hovering gum trees and their overhanging branches my teachers throughout. I allowed grief to rise and roll as I let heavy waters flow, cleansing eyes and heart. I plucked leaches off bare skin. I had fresh communications with ancestor spirits.

I watched the nature of mind, trailing thoughts about food, comfort, warmth, family, future conversations. I basked in deep reservoirs of stillness and the expansive awareness that came with it.

I learned more about the nature of aloneness vs loneliness; the latter breeding attachments, addictions, and unhealthy conditions of being; the former breeding wisdom and liberation.

I let the sweet flitter of songbird and the piercing whistle of yellow-tail black cockatoo sing me back home. I reveled in the simple pleasures of dappled moonlight rising through forest trees, warm sunshine against bareskin, white clouds against baby blue skies, pindrop stillness when those moments arose, translucent green leaves amongst sunrays, and the pitter-patter of rain against my tarp.

I shivered through freezing nights to hooting owls and screeching possums. I dreamt and visioned the expansion of my offerings to community, and felt the threads of loved ones weave together all that much tighter.

I was carried by the shared prayer of my soul brothers, who I had just spent time with in sacred mens business. I anchored in new depths for the prayer I'm holding in my heart.

A blessing indeed to have been held so well by mama gaia's wild embrace; loving, nurturing, tender, graceful, relentless, fierce, unforgiving. All of it.

Profound, in simple and subtle ways.

Wilderness vigils are one of the most real deal, no bullshit, raw and humbling initiatory experiences and rites of passage available to us.

For me, this one was a growing intimacy into deeper layers of manhood, family, community, service, ceremony, country, health, truth and an honouring of the sacred.

The pillars of my life. May these seeds be watered throughout the seasons and this garden be nurtured to breed abundance. I tip my akubra and bow reverently to these ancient wisdom ways.

Another cycle around. Deaths and rebirths.

So be it.