Hiking to the Secret Council of Elders

Instead of finding a tribe, one should find a choir.

We were in Sedona in June and it was hot—our penultimate day in town before heading home. I had promised my son I would show him the Secret Council of Elders discovered during a previous trip. I had been seeking out a different off-trail alcove on that hike, which ended up not being safely accessible. I had spotted it then, between two peaks, the two face-like features etched into the facades of a tree and a rock.

The UV index might still be low, I told myself. It was an attempt to self-soothe while I climbed with the sun beating down on the back of my neck, a patch of exposed skin there turning maroon in my imagination. I had learned from a friend that regardless of how hot or cloudy it was, the real measure of sunburn danger was something called the UV index, which had been well below the danger zone that day before we left for our hike. Sweat dripped from under the band of my hat. I heard my son groan just up ahead.

"Water break?" I asked.

We ducked into the shallow shadow of a bush and drank. I reflected how my new pattern of self-soothing was nearly automatic now, as automatic as my negative self-talk once was. Eighteen months ago, I had typed keywords into a search engine: scientist, intuitive, healer, therapist, life coach, witch, astrologer.

The name that I noticed first was Jennifer Racioppi, the author of a book called Cosmic Health: Unlock Your Healing Magic with Astrology, Positive Psychology, and Integrative Wellness. I read the book, really connected to her voice, and reached out to her hoping to work together. Mostly, unexpectedly, she helped me by teaching me how to care for and connect with myself and to do so consistently and daily, so that I could better do this with the people I most care about, so I could better meet my life goals going forward. Oh and, first, to know with some precision what those are.

Jenn kick-started my daily self-care practices like drinking enough water, stretching, sleeping enough, and meditating daily. I couldn't believe what a profound difference just these simple maintenance steps made in my life. They opened me up to hearing my own inner voice, my intuition, the places from where my inspirations are born. This led to more creativity, expanded ideas, the ability to embrace goals and meet objectives. I found that I was able to be more present with people, which improved the quality of my relationships and connections.

Daily practices reduced my anxiety, reduced the pain I carry in my body, gave me more energy day-to-day, and made me feel happier, calmer. And the biggest gift I got both from the work I did with Jenn, and the self-care practices, is this loving and magic-finding inner voice. It's optimistic instead of pessimistic now. It says, maybe you'll win, and why can't it be that good, and things usually work out for you, and that's a really good sign, or wow, that's magic, or look at that miracle!

One of the many inspiring things that stood out to me and stuck with me from Jenn's book was this idea that instead of finding a tribe in life, one should find a choir. A tribe is too many people to realistically maintain deep intimacy with, especially for the long term. Instead, a chosen family of a few hand-picked gems that really fill you up; those with whom you can open up and say anything and feel loved and not judged; those who can hold space and trust -- that's your choir.

And something she said early on in our conversations, too, about astrology as a science of correlation. It's true that correlation doesn't equal causation, but it doesn't negate it either. As a scientist, I've often thought it made sense intuitively that the alignment of celestial bodies at the moment one is born—and how that played off of one’s inner universe—could influence one's life trajectory and one's selfhood. The marriage of astrology and evidence-based science made sense to me. What are we if not bodies in space moving in relation to other bodies in space?

We are bound by water and memory over linear time punctuated by sleep and dreams, those strange phenomena we know little about; the most likely clues about where we came from and where we are going.

"After I graduate high school, I want to take a gap year and do a lot of hiking with you. Especially before I have to go live away from you for the first time ever," my son said, and my heart melted. "That would be dreamy," I said. He’s only ten now, and likely to change his mind about that in the next eight years, but I noticed the gift, the magic.

"Are we almost there? It's hot!"

"See that rock? It's right around that corner. So close."

We got up and trudged along, coming across a Juniper tree with a braided trunk, twisted up from the energy vortex of the earth that is Sedona. I placed the flat of my palm on it, leaned forward, and kissed it, then walked on. Looking back, I saw my son do the same gestures with the tree, and it warmed my heart. We can teach our children anything by example -- love, hate, apathy, magic, misogyny, racism. Kindness, forgiveness, generosity. Critical thinking.

They are excellent students.

We turned the corner and there it was, an oasis of shade between two peaks with sweeping views on both sides of all the majestic red rock formations Sedona has to offer. I pointed out the tree in the clearing that had what looked like an old and wise face: an eye and a half smile. Then, beyond it, in the rock was another old, wise face: a single eye and a mouth with a jagged scar line cutting across both.

“These are the Elders,” I told my son. “You can pray to them and tell them all your troubles and all your wishes, and they will help you. You can ask them anything, too, and then later, in your quiet moments, maybe when we’re hiking down, or tonight while you’re falling asleep, or in the next few days when you’re just sitting quietly with yourself, you’ll find that the answers just come to you. And that will be from the Elders.”

“Can I pray to them even when I’m not here in this spot anymore?

“Yes, now that you’ve been here and met them, you can talk to them whenever you want, wherever you are, and they’ll hear you,” I said.

My son regarded the two old faces carved into Mother Nature with a grave expression, and I realized he was taking this deadly seriously. Of course he was, and that warmed my heart. The magic of this place had been real for me, even with my former skepticism, so it would be even more real for him with his unwavering belief.

After giving the two Elders names based on tree and rock goddesses from Greek mythology, we sat in quiet meditation. After a while, I opened my eyes and saw him patiently waiting for me to be done.

“I asked all my questions,” he said.

We finished by finding some heart-shaped rocks to give as offerings to the tree elder by placing them in the nook of her branches, then we hiked down in silent contemplation. The next day, my son told me that the Elders did bring him some answers. They brought some to me as well. If I listen very closely, and pay attention, I can hear and see the reality and the gift of magic in nearly every moment I’m alive.