Thoughtful Thursday: Applying the Vision Quest

It’s easy to feel discouraged sometimes. Self-doubt is such a common human condition – it happens to all of us.

Just this week, I doubted myself a few times: right after I turned in my book proposal and wondered if I even had a chance to snag this project, when I realized that the first paragraph of my novel wasn’t good enough for Nathan Bransford’s latest contest, and when a virus nearly destroyed my computer and made me kick myself for forgetting to back up my latest files.

But, given that it’s “Thoughtful Thursday,” and it’s been a while since I explored the journal entries from my first vision quest, I thought I’d look for a few nuggets of wisdom to provide a bit of perspective. As with the previous five blog posts about my vision quest experience, I’ve opened up my old journal to shed some light on my present state of mind. On June 28, 1990, I wrote three statements (based on my mentor James’s teachings) that seem to apply to the happenings this week:

Nowness is the only reality. – So, I should stop worrying about what may or may not happen with my book proposal. I did the best I could, and there’s no point in fixating on it now.

The essence is refusing to give up; the key is not fearing yourself. – So, there’s no point in focusing on the difficulty of the revision process. All I can do is plunge ahead, and the next time Nathan holds a first-paragraph contest, I’ll be ready.

We cannot control the situation, but we can control our reaction. – So, while I can’t eradicate the world of hackers, I can refuse to let such impotence overwhelm me.

And here I thought I couldn’t learn anything from my thirteen-year-old self.

So, what do you do to combat the voices of self-doubt? How do you quiet them – at least for a little while?

Thoughtful Thursday: Vision Quest, Part 5

Although I’d intended to use my “Thoughtful Thursday” posts to explore the journal I kept during my first vision quest experience, I was compelled to deviate last week in order to share my yoga woes with you. What can I say? The kitty looked so darn cute under the yoga mat, I simply had to rethink my intentions.

But, this week, I’m back in full vision quest mode. In case you’re utterly confused, please check out my four previous posts about the weeklong vision quest that I experienced during the summer before ninth grade, in the woods of southern Mississippi.

My five fellow questers and I spent six days under the tutelage of a long-haired, big-hearted vegetarian named James, who lived on the expansive, wooded property with his wife and two daughters. What I remember most about James was his hearty laugh, his intense eyes, his bushy mustache, his refusal to watch television, his passion for the environment, and his fascination with Native American myths and traditions.

In previous blog posts, I covered most of what happened on Monday, June 25, and Tuesday, June 26. On Wednesday, June 27, it seems that I was in a serious writing mood. I even recapped the initial events of the quest:

The first day was rough. When we got here, we rode to the camp in James’ flatbed. Then Margaret [James’ wife] checked our supplies, and we were on our way. We trekked with all of our heavy things through the woods, up hills, across the creek, to our campsite. After some instruction, we found our areas (now called homes) and set up our “tents” (a tarp over a rope tied between two trees). The rest of the day we just got settled. After dinner, though, Steve, Keith, and James talked to us about "warriors" and the ultimate one, Don Juan... [not the infamous lover but the man featured in Carlos Castaneda’s mind-bending books]

The second day, we cooked our own food and washed our own clothes in our Maytag™ or Kenmore™ (really buckets to scrub our clothes with Octagon™ soap and rinse them twice). I finished mine late at night, missed eating dinner, but got to eat a few eggs instead. I’m going to have to use my pot somehow though – if I want to get the full effect of independence. We had also gone swimming in the creek for the second time. Then we were allowed to clean off (Advice: Use just a little Octagon™ soap – it goes a long way). After that, we planted our stave in the ground that has the medicine wheel colors on it. Then the Three Musketeers [Julia, Antonia, and I] carried two buckets of water uphill from the creek without a mishap. (Daryl fell in yesterday...)

At night, we went to a Council of the Great Spirit. We smoked the pipe twice and James read something about the Great Warrior Chief Seattle, and we passed a rock around (sort of like a conch) and could only speak when given this rock.

James said we’d be different now. It feels more like a family...

The rest of the day’s scribblings focused on the events of the third day, which mostly consisted of listening, learning, and meditating:

Today, he [James] talked about Little Mouse, who was busy working when he heard a roaring. He asked two other mice [about it] who said they hadn’t heard it and kept working. The mouse went back to work, but heard the roar again and went to investigate. He met a raccoon who showed him the roaring river and a green frog on a green lily pad. The frog told him to crouch and jump; the mouse did this and saw mountains and forests; he fell into the river, thinking the frog had tricked him. He was scared, but swam to the bank. The frog reassured him...

Did I mention that much of the vision quest consisted of learning myths? Of course, some made more sense than others. The above one, about Jumping Mouse, illustrates a willingness to leave innocence and security behind. But this next myth still boggles my mind a bit. Perhaps you can shed some light on it:

James read us a story about two fawns whose mother is killed by their aunt, Bear. They know she will kill them, too, so they leave to go to their Grandpa, Lizard. They take all of their baskets except one. When Bear returns, she sees they are missing. She goes after them but hears a whistle (from the last basket) and returns home. This occurs continuously, each time with her getting angrier and angrier. Meanwhile, the fawns cross the river on Daddy-Long-Legs and go to the Lizard, explaining the situation to him. Bear finally gets to the river and Daddy-Long-Legs sticks out a leg, but then tips her over. She proceeds to the house where she is told by Lizard to climb down the smoke hole with her eyes shut and mouth open. She does this and he thrusts hot coals down her throat; she dies...

I must admit, that one leaves me a little clueless. Do you have any thoughts?

Thoughtful Thursday: Vision Quest, Part 4

So, it seems that, at least for a while, every “Thoughtful Thursday” post will focus on my adolescent vision quest experience... until either I have no more journal entries to explore or my online pals get tired of my self-imposed journey of re-discovery. If you have no blessed idea what I’m talking about, please feel free to visit my three previous posts on the subject.

As I've already explained, during the summer between eighth grade and high school, five peers and I experienced a weeklong vision quest in the woods of southern Mississippi. Our mentor, James, who lived with his wife and two daughters in this rural part of the South – not far from the small town of Kiln (which I recently discovered is, strangely enough, quarterback Brett Favre’s hometown) – taught us a great deal about living a life of purpose and learning to walk the “red road” of a “warrior.”

During that amazing week in June of 1990, we spent a lot of time sitting in sacred tepee councils, meditating on our own, and learning about a variety of Native American myths and traditions, including the medicine wheel – a prevalent symbol throughout many Native American tribes. Now, if you were to look up “medicine wheel” on the Internet, you would find a multitude of explanations and examples, and while the details might differ from wheel to wheel, the essence is typically the same: The medicine wheel, crude as it might sometimes be, represents the fully realized path of a self-actualized person – the totality of a person’s potential universe.

A truly impressive one, the Bighorn Medicine Wheel – an enormous wheel-like pattern made of carefully placed stones – sits in the mountains of Wyoming. James’ medicine wheel was considerably smaller – but no less a spiritual tool. As with most medicine wheels, his was based on the cardinal directions – each of which represented a color, a spirit animal, and a level of spiritual attainment. According to him, many of us begin at the southern post, symbolized by a green mouse of innocence. With effort, we can find our path to the west, signified by a black bear of introspection. Eventually, we can make it to the north, where the wise, white buffalo dwells. Of course, our ultimate destination is the east, embodied by the yellow eagle of illumination.

Looking at one of my journal entries from June 26, 1990, I found James’ explanation of the medicine wheel:

We all are born with one direction dominant. To become a whole person, you have to encompass every direction. Some have more than one gift, but they’re not whole... We all are a whole and complete medicine wheel, but we have to bring out all of the latent possibilities within us.

No two people are alike except for the loneliness that bonds us. We have to touch others...

Over the years, I’ve thought often of James’ medicine wheel – and my ardent desire to be a whole and complete soul, fully actualized. While I have come close to mastering innocence and introspection, I am far from achieving wisdom and illumination, though I long for that every day. But it’s certainly not an easy task to attain true enlightenment, especially given modern stresses and strains. Although I have yet to find balance in my life and still struggle daily to juggle myriad tasks and desires – from finishing the revision of my novel to maintaining a consistent yoga routine to making time for my husband and kitty – I am ever aware of my strengths and weaknesses, and ever trying to be the best that I can be. But, I wonder, is that enough? And, at this rate, will I ever get there?

Thoughtful Thursday: Vision Quest Revisited (Again)

As promised last Thursday, I’ve decided to examine a little more of the journal from my first vision quest – if only to relearn the lessons gleaned from this meditative journey. If you’re confused, please feel free to read the first post I wrote about this amazing experience, which occurred in the piney woods of southern Mississippi when I was thirteen.

Last Thursday, I shared my ramblings from June 25, 1990 – the first day of that weeklong La Terre Quest. Following my afternoon journal-writing session, I joined the others – James, the leader; his assistants, Steve and Keith; and my five fellow questers, Julia, Antonia, Daryl, Jeremy, and Sean – for dinner and conversation (about all sorts of things, including the works of Carlos Castaneda). Here’s what I wrote the following day (and, as before, please remember that these are a thirteen-year-old’s words, so be kind):

Life’s good, you know. It can be weird and sometimes complicated, but it’s alright. Things happen, you make mistakes, but you just go right on living, trying not to make the same mistakes twice.

Nature is really beautiful, but when you have to try going to the bathroom in a hole in the ground, it can be kind of rough. Last night, after hearing James, Steve, and Keith talk about Carlitos and Don Juan and the Allies and infinite realities and how their friend Tim M. went messing around in the Earth’s funnels of energy and has now been missing for four months, Julia and I slept in her tent. I was kind of cold and grimy. I’ve got to take a shower today. This is going to be great.

Oh, one final remark – though, I don’t quite comprehend what being a Warrior is all about, I know this: You can’t worry or regret about things in the past or future; you can only do the best you can now and it’s imperative that you live each day to the fullest, as if it were your last.

Following this entry, I listed a few guidelines for becoming a “Warrior,” many of which I shared last Thursday – things like working on basic needs, avoiding fear and doubt, taking nothing for granted, and living life to the fullest. The advice I found most interesting, though, was also the most ironic for a blogger like me:

– By telling all of your personal history, you indulge in self-importance. You cannot get to the point where you are annoyed by every little thing and leave if you don’t get your way.
– Do not take yourself too seriously or think everything you say is worthy of being said.
– Others can “push all your buttons” if you reveal too much of your personal history.

Perhaps James was right. Perhaps revealing too much about myself – on this blog and in other forums – does give others “ammunition” against me. Knowing that I’m a sensitive person, who fears hurting others or being misunderstood by them, has certainly enabled some people to manipulate me on more than one occasion.

But understanding who you are and where you’ve been can help to inform your present being – self-examination and self-revelation don’t have to be exercises in self-importance. Just because you’re willing to share yourself with others doesn’t necessarily mean that you take yourself too seriously or that you believe everything you say is worthy of being said. I certainly don’t. Of course, that doesn’t stop me from being a chatterbox.

Thoughtful Thursday: Vision Quest Revisited

Two weeks ago, I shared the story of my first vision quest in the woods of southern Mississippi. Since I received such a favorable response to that post, I thought that I’d unveil a little more about that life-changing experience.

This weeklong La Terre Quest (as mentor James called it) – a self-imposed coming-of-age ceremony that I underwent with three of my Unitarian Universalist buddies – taught me a wealth of critical life lessons, including the importance of writing things down if I have any hope of remembering them. Although I once believed that I had a memory “like an elephant” (whatever that means), I’ve come to accept, at the age of thirty-two, that some memories are beginning to elude me – which is why I’m so grateful that our fearless leader, James, encouraged us to record our thoughts, feelings, and experiences in a journal bestowed to each of us at the start of that amazing week.

So, given that this is “Thoughtful Thursday,” I realize that it might be beneficial for me to open my weathered journal and take a peek inside, with the hope of learning a little something from my first foray into the therapeutic act of meditation. The first entry – which I recall writing after trekking through a bramble-filled ravine and having an orientation lunch with James; his assistants, Steve and Keith; and my five fellow questers, Julia, Antonia, Daryl, Jeremy, and Sean – was enlightening in a way, but please remember that I was thirteen at the time (so be kind and judge the writing style accordingly):

Well, here goes! The start of my first self-discovery trek. Things started out unexpectedly, but nevertheless terrific. The birds sound lovely through the trees, along with the woodpecker. You should see my legs – they look as if a cat (with very sharp claws) just ran amuck, dragging its hind legs behind it.

But does that matter? Nah.

I sort of found my meditation area near my home – among the tall trees in a fairly shady area. (I felt like the child in My Side of the Mountain – one of the best books, in my opinion, I have ever read).

James, the head leader of this expedition, said we have to write an analysis of needs [as I remember it, he wanted us to make a list of the things we required during the vision quest and how that would translate in the “real” world]:

Shelter – tarp over rope between trees {a house}
Coolness – shade (lots of it) and water {air conditioning}
Hunger – food supplied by the camp, cooked by me {a refrigerator}
Thirst – water {plumbing}
Bedding – sleeping bag on leaves {bed}
Comfort – me {?}
Bathroom – hole in the ground {toilet}
Light – candles and flashlight {electricity}
To keep dry – cover everything, go in tent {?}
Entertainment – sing, read {?}

I know, I know. You’re probably even more mystified than you were two weeks ago. Despite the fact that I wasn’t much of a writer back then – and forgetting that “hunger” and “thirst” are technically not needs but conditions, and that I apparently didn’t know how comfort, dryness, and entertainment could be satisfied in the “real” world – I think that analyzing my needs was an extremely helpful exercise. After all, it forced me to meditate on my present situation and my immediate concerns. For, as I understand better now, once a person’s basic needs are satisfied, he or she will find it much easier to clear the mind and focus on the spirit – which is, after all, the goal of meditation.

During that unusual week in June of 1990, James spoke a lot about becoming a “warrior” (in a spiritual sense, not a militaristic one) and learning to “walk the red road” (a prevalent Native American concept whereby a person learns to follow the “right” path, in harmony with nature and those around him). So, the next entry in my journal (also from June 25th, the first day of the quest) outlined the steps to becoming a warrior. Because my note-taking skills were less than perfect then, I’m going to paraphrase here:

– Erase personal history.
– Take control of your own life.
– Have a cloud around you; don’t let other people know all about you.
– Lose the self by contemplating the self.
– Lose self-importance – if you refrain from taking yourself too seriously, you will learn to control your reaction in situations where you fail to get what you want.
– Remember that everything is equal, so talk to plants, apologize for your actions, and never waste resources.
– Use death as an advisor – if you realize that each moment might be your last, you will accomplish your next task to the best of your ability.
– In a world where death is the hunter, remember that there is no time for regrets or doubts – only time for decisions.
– Embrace no routine so that you have a choice between being accessible or inaccessible.
– Leave nothing to chance, and take nothing for granted.
– Stalk your prey and do not worry, for only then will something happen.
– Do not cling to something that longs to be free; it will only lead to exhaustion.
– Do not embrace helplessness, as it only indulges in self-pity, remorse, boredom, and apathy.
– Allow petty tyrants to test you, then stalk them in kind.

Now, I’m not sure how I feel about all of these lessons. Some, like not letting other people know much about you, seem to conflict with the very nature of blogging... and, for that matter, writing. Others, though, like purging yourself of regrets and doubts, seem like sound advice – and a lesson I’m still struggling to absorb.

So, how do you feel about some of these life lessons? Have you applied some of them to your own life? Do you disagree with one, more, or all of them?

In the weeks to come, I plan to explore other journal entries from my thirteen-year-old self. Perhaps it seems self-indulgent, but I’m hoping that I’ll be able to channel the optimism I felt that summer – and apply a few meditative concepts to the chaos that is my current life.

Thoughtful Thursday: Vision Quest

Growing up as a Unitarian Universalist had both benefits and drawbacks. On the positive side, I met a lot of wonderful friends, attended plenty of potluck dinners and camping retreats, learned a great deal about a variety of religions, and realized that it was okay to be an atheist. On the negative side, I was considered a bit of a freak beyond the doors of the First Unitarian Universalist Church of New Orleans.

Unfortunately, I didn’t go to school with any of my U.U. pals, and the private school that I attended from sixth to eighth grades was mostly populated by Catholics who had never heard of Unitarian Universalism before. Even the few Jews and Hindus at my school didn’t seem impressed when I told them that people like Thomas Jefferson, Charles Darwin, Beatrix Potter, Frank Lloyd Wright, and Pete Seeger had been Unitarians, too.

It didn’t matter, though. I loved being a Unitarian Universalist; I loved being part of a small group of U.U. youths. That is, until my thirteenth year approached, and I realized that, unlike my Jewish and Catholic friends, U.U. adolescents had no official coming-of-age ceremony. So, determined to mark our passing into adulthood, the four of us (Julia, Antonia, Daryl, and I) decided to create a ceremony of our own. Luckily, one of the church members discovered a man named James, who operated a vision quest camp in the woods of southern Mississippi, and after meeting with him, our parents quickly approved our plan to experience a weeklong La Terre Quest in the summer of 1990 - just prior to our freshman year of high school.

Our quest began on Monday, June 25. After reaching James' property, the four of us met his family, plus his two assistants (Keith and Steve) and the other two members of our quest (Sean and Jeremy). Then, we trekked across a wide creek and into the woods that would be our home for the next six days. Following a group meeting – during which we each received a blank journal – we were led to our campsites, each of which consisted of a tarp draped over a line between two trees. Beneath the tarp lay a pile of dry leaves, over which I laid my sleeping bag. After lunch, I chose a meditation spot in a nearby copse of pine trees, then sat down to sketch my campsite.



Over the course of the week, the six of us learned a great deal about warriors, red roads, medicine wheels, and the like. We ate plenty of granola, experienced numerous council gatherings in a teepee, crafted spirit totems from natural clay deposits, sewed medicine pouches (which we filled with symbolic seeds and other items), scribbled in our journals, created personal myths, bathed and washed our clothes with creek water, battled humidity and insects, and spent a lot of time meditating alone.

On the last day, we fasted – and the “vision” we experienced that last night inspired our spirit names. Mine was Monkey, Seeker of Knowledge (years later, following a three-day fast and vision quest, it would become Otter, Watching the Leaf). Despite our joking complaints about the lack of activity – which later inspired James to christen ours “The Sit and Do Nothing Quest” – we all learned so much from this unique experience.

In fact, words can barely describe how incredible my first vision quest was. It meant so much to me that it became the inspiration for my second novel, currently in progress. Although I lost my spirit totem (a pig face) and my symbolic staff in Hurricane Katrina, I still have my old journal, my medicine pouch, and a string of beads that signify the cardinal directions of the medicine wheel: green for the innocent mouse of the South, black for the introspective bear of the West, white for the wise buffalo of the North, and yellow for the illuminated eagle of the East.

While I still suffer from the same weaknesses – such as doubt, procrastination, nervousness, perfectionism, selfishness, fear, and self-pity – that I did prior to the vision quest, lessons learned during the quest have stayed with me through the years. Lessons like releasing the past, dispelling worry about the future, living life to the fullest, and letting nothing capture my awareness. I have yet to master such lessons, of course, but I’ll always be grateful to James for putting them in my head in the first place... no matter that the four of us came home hungry, dirty, itchy, and stinky. Ah, what a high price we pay for peace of mind.