It’s my third day in Sedona. I’m standing on the red rocks with three people I just met. I offer some tobacco to Mother Earth in exchange for a rock. “You’ll know which rock is yours when it jumps out at you,” my massage therapist told me on day one as she incorporated spiritual healing techniques into my full- body massage.
Like stepping on something smush-y at the bottom of the ocean, I recoil my Doc Martin and see a perfectly round stone that could serve as a button on Corduroy’s overalls. I take a pinch of tobacco (a prized natural commodity that Natives would use) and spread it on Mother Earth. I pick up my rock and hold it close to my heart. “Let’s hold hands and meditate over it,” the hike leader says. I grab the hand of the person next to me, and she leads us in a beautiful meditation. Breathing in, as the rain plops on my head. “Feel Mother Earth’s embrace,” she tells us as we continue deep breathing and falling into a deep meditation.