INTRODUCTION II
As this last year began to reveal itself, I wondered whether my work with the sacred tree was complete, but one day I found the answer as I tried to ride past and my bike came to an instant halt. Reacting quickly, I caught myself before I hit the pavement. I circled back around to the tree, paid my respects, recited my mantra, and continued on my ride around the lake.
During my bike ride on September 8, 2026, I stopped in to visit the tree and felt something staring at me from the woods. With the portal in sight, my search revealed a hawk perched high on a limb not far from where I stood. It looked directly at me, as if to let me know it was monitoring me. I giggled to myself, thinking: Is it a hawk or some other sentient being masquerading as a hawk? Regardless, I could see that I was being watched.
I captured a couple of photographs before it took flight and flew directly through the middle of the sacred tree. I could hear the hawk’s wings brush against a couple of limbs as it glided through.
Approaching my three-year anniversary of living in Wilmington, I felt lonely and restless once again, like I wanted to pack up and move somewhere else. I wasn’t sure why I was feeling this way. It could have been the long, hot, extremely humid summer, where I spent most of my time indoors, alone. I wondered if, with autumn and cooler temperatures, I would feel differently.
I also wondered if I had any more adventure left in me, or if I was meant to remain in Wilmington for the rest of my life. I twisted my knee in mid-September, which made that question even more puzzling.
I often wondered what it would be like to be someone like Madonna, where I could work my ass off, push my physical limits, get the best care possible afterward, mention it, have everyone talk about it, and then go on tour and get paid millions of dollars for my efforts.
Reflecting on an entry I had made in my journal back in September 2012:
With that in mind, on September 1, I celebrated my adventure with a night of dancing. I had not gone dancing in a very, very long time. In the past, dancing had always helped me change my life’s energy; it got me through some of my life’s most difficult times. It could magically transform my life.
I wasn’t sure if it was the energy brought on by the blue moon or the spell of the Hopi’s sacred corn pollen, but I suddenly felt the urge to reconnect with the dance floor on an elementary, primal, indigenous level. Since Ricardo was out of town and I had nothing else to do, I heeded the call and decided to go to a small dance club in Scottsdale, Arizona. I arrived at 9:00 PM. “Holiday,” by Madonna, was one of the first songs I heard that night.
I thought about those days and missed them. I was much older now and had to be very careful physically.
When I listened to the following song, I thought about Madonna’s new death experience, and felt like I was one step away from the same thing: especially my freedom – of movement.
