The spiral journey began as a road trip.
I traveled with a friend. We were journeying for my birthday, and we were also journeying for my spiral return. Each year around my birthday, I take time to leave home and move across land, allowing myself to restore and remember through direct contact with the earth. This journey followed that rhythm. It carried intention, but it also carried openness to what would meet us along the way.
We left home where the air was warm and familiar. As we moved west, the land began to change. Texas stretched on for hours, long and steady, almost six hours of driving. As we continued westward, we noticed the temperature shifting. The further we traveled, the colder it became. By the time we entered New Mexico, the land felt unfamiliar and familiar at the same time. It welcomed us like an old friend.
The red clay, the adobe homes and buildings, and the desert landscape felt strangely known. Things we did not see in our daily lives carried a sense of recognition. When we arrived, it was cold and wet. Snow still lingered on the ground. This marked the beginning of our spiral journey.
Discomfort and the Beginning of Restoration
Discomfort arrived quickly. We were not prepared for the cold. Even the hotel was cold, and we were told the heat was not kept on during that time of year. It was early May, and none of it made sense to me. The body felt it immediately. The little girl in me surfaced. She does not like discomfort, and she made herself known.
As the days unfolded, it became clear that discomfort was part of the restoration. Restoration moves through what is felt, not around it. It requires moving through what no longer fits, shedding layers that once felt true in order to return to original harmonic tone. The journey asked for that kind of release.
Witnessing, Exchange, and Relation
As we ventured through New Mexico, we encountered Navajo artisans selling jewelry, pottery, and handmade wares. I greeted them as relations. The response was not what I expected. The greeting was not returned in the same way. Still, I followed what I sensed and moved as my spirit directed.
One grandmother stood out. She was blunt, steady, and grounded. I addressed her as grandmother out of respect. I looked at her wares, then took a seat instead of purchasing immediately. What I heard within me was simple: buy something from her and give her sixty dollars, regardless of the item. I honored that. I chose a necklace and gave her the money. Her response was disbelief. That moment stayed with me. It reflected how people often judge what they see, especially when they see someone who looks like me, and how expectations shape perception.
From there, I moved to a middle-aged man and addressed him as relations. I purchased a pair of earrings. Then I approached a younger woman, greeted her the same way, and purchased a piece of pottery. I do not believe they see many people who look like me. They did not expect to be addressed as relations. Those familiar with Indigenous ways understand that relation is truth. We are related. I continued to greet them that way, regardless of how it was received.
This encounter followed a profound spiritual experience earlier that day. The spiral continued to unfold through simple acts like shopping, revealing itself through attention, presence, and choice.
That day, I covered my head with a white scarf. It was not tied back. It simply hung. I felt called to do so, and I followed that instruction as I always do when my spirit speaks clearly.
The Mountains, the Ancestors, and Return
We continued on to a quaint town and encountered more moments of recognition. I was reminded of the fire within and of functioning as a flame bearer. The mountains welcomed us next. They stood bold and steady, grandfathers watching as the sun lowered across the desert. We stopped in the middle of the road because I was asked to. I introduced myself to the grandfather mountains. I acknowledged their presence and told them that I had returned.
We continued into Taos. There, we experienced the pueblos, desert sage, and beautiful herbs. It was there that we received our first tattoos of the return, marking the journey and what it had opened.
As the spiral widened, we wound through the gorge and watched kayakers moving through the water below. The roads curved and climbed. The mountains and paths felt like a spiral themselves, mirroring the journey we were on.
We traveled west into Arizona. Along the way, fears surfaced and asked to be addressed. My friend carried a fear of driving at night on mountain roads. When the moment arrived, I did not step in. I did not drive. I stayed with her as witness. I allowed her to meet what she needed to meet. Strength emerged through presence rather than interference.
We continued on. Flowers appeared. Forests opened. Red dirt returned. Bell Rock rose before us. The Grand Canyon was truly grand. More tattoos marked the journey as it continued to unfold. Each place met us fully, without excess or withholding.
Completion and Balance
As we headed home, another encounter completed a cycle. We met a Navajo man who spoke with us openly. He explained that his lineage traced back to Genghis Khan. He spoke about land stewardship and said clearly that this was not their original land. His words balanced experiences we had earlier at the pueblos and in Taos, where we did not feel welcomed. This man was kind and generous with his time. He explained history without defensiveness. Everything found its balance before we returned.
Crossing Back Home
As we approached the Texas border, timing aligned once more. I asked my friend for cornmeal. I sensed the crossing before seeing it. As I rolled down the window and offered the cornmeal to the land, the sign appeared: “You are leaving New Mexico.” Then, “Welcome to Texas.”
The journey completed itself.
When we returned home, something had reorganized. Clarity settled. Movement softened. Listening deepened. We returned as ourselves, more clearly.
The spiral revealed itself through land, through contact, and through lived experience. It moved through us as we moved across the earth, completing its arc through attention and presence.
The spiral does not take you elsewhere. It returns you.
What Is Carried Forward
What I share comes from what I have lived.
I move as a flame bearer and an anchor, carrying only what has been known through experience, felt in the body, and completed through return. I share what has already reorganized me.
Experience is where the spiral clarifies itself. When something has been lived, it carries a different weight. It moves as wisdom rather than information.
Living precedes sharing. Return precedes offering.
What I share has already shaped me.