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The next national park we went to was Monument National Park. MNP has all of these mesas and towering spire rock formations
that dot this area for unbelievable stretches of distances. It’s the kind of place that, if it wasn’t for the
extremely hot weather, you could just hang out there and continually gaze at these majestic structures. It was so wonderful.
It was during this time that we were driving along this highway that aside from these megalithic structures dotting the horizon
at every turn, it was completely desolate of civilization. It’s been rare in my life that I’ve been in a place
like this. We were driving through an area called Monument Valley. This must have been a location in which a bunch of Western
movies had been shot because there were so many familiar landmarks echoing back to those old movies.
One thing about this area was that the state of Utah created many of these free campsites complete with outhouses and that’s
about it. We saw many of these campsites as we drove by. Then we came upon a middle aged man and his teenaged son at their
campsite by a campfire. We talked with them for a little while and found out that other than the Colorado River running by
about a thousand feet to our right there was no fresh water. It seems kind of silly now that I think about it. What’s
more fresh than the running water of a river? Well, there might be some debate about that still.
After talking to them we were seriously considering stopping here, pitching our tent and camping out for a night or two. My
teenage daughter vehemently wanted to and so did me and my wife. The only opposition to this plan was my other younger daughter.
At that moment she was being terrorized by a cloud of knats. “Bees, bees; get them off me!” Man, every conceivable
known insect to man is a bee that she fears that will sting her. Well, she was the deciding vote for shelving that idea and
continuing on. Anyway, our water supply was low and so was the gas so we opted to keep going until we got to Moab.
When we got to Moab at around 8:30 that night we went into this RV campsite. The office was closed so we decided to just find
a spot on our own and pitch our tent. Funny thing was; that place was infested with mosquitoes, probably more than that campsite
back in Monument Valley. They were all over us as we were putting up the tent. I mean, it wasn’t enough that it was
dark and I was tired of all that driving and just barely able to get the tent up. Now I had to fend off these nasty creatures
slapping myself here and there until it drove me completely mad. And so we bedded down there that night inside the tent for
the most part devoid of any bugs.
The next morning we did the right thing, the honorable thing, the urgent thing and high-tailed it out of that buggy
campsite—of course, not before paying for our night spent there—and made a beeline (pun not intended) for the
local Super 8 motel.
As I said before, we’re not really into roughin’ it outdoors. This is our second year doing the camping thing
and since we’ve frequented more hotels than campsites our comfort level with living outdoors is, well, definitely at
the novice level if you know what I mean. So, that Super 8 motel looked really good as we approached it from the main drag
in Moab.
One thing that I discovered while spending two nights at Super 8 was just how popular America’s national parks were
to people living abroad. After getting settled in our room, I took my youngest daughter downstairs to the room where they
served the continental breakfast. Continental Breakfast; they make it sound like a feast, don’t they. What it
was, basically was bagels, english muffins and donuts (probably frozen beforehand) along with fresh hot mediocre coffee and
your choice of either apple or orange juice. Then as we sat down at our table I began to see this room become a crossroads
of nationalities, culture and languages. I saw people from Germany, France, Japan, China and possibly Switzerland. It was
a lively atmosphere. You see, I have this habit of observing people and when there’s people near me speaking a different
language I just love to listen in for some reason. I mean, I can’t understand a word they’re saying but I love
to listen nonetheless.
Well, enough of that. On to the next national park. On this day we went to a place called Arches National Park. This was my
favorite national park and you’ll soon see why. This place has so many interesting rock formations. They’re just
so awesome. And they’re so ancient too. Odd thing is that I didn’t see hardly any arches at all which is why I
question the logic of calling it Arches National Park. But it was of little consequence and I’ll tell you why.
One of the sights at Arches is a place called Devil’s Garden. It’s literally a garden of so many odd rock
formations. It literally blew me away. Now, this is consistent with the past lives theme that I’ve been going into every
now and then throughout these articles. Because the more I saw of these unusual rock formations the more I felt myself overcome
with this hauntingly eerie déjà vu experience. You see, I know a past life experience when I feel it, meaning when I have
them I usually feel very emotional, I feel like crying. That’s how I felt as we drove through this area.
I was once a young boy in some native American tribe that lived in this area. And whenever any boy in that tribe reaches puberty
he must go through his rite of passage to become a man and take his position as a responsible member of his people. So to
facilitate that change that needs to take place in a young man’s life the tribes shaman takes him and other boys of
the same age to a place near what we today call Devil’s Garden where they set up camp. Then one by one each boy is led
into this place where they wander around for perhaps several days.
Now the reason why Devil’s Garden lends itself to be so very ideal for a boy’s rite of passage is this. When a
boy goes through his rite of passage it is a spiritual journey. And Devil’s Garden is so ideal for that because of the
endless variety of rock formations and the various ways that light falls on them depending on whether it is early morning,
midday, or sunset. And if the person is properly prepared through prayer and meditation the possibility is good that he will
see visions within the rock formations. But not only that; Devil’s Garden is a garden of stone. It’s actually
a maze of stone formations and when you walk into it, it’s not very hard to get lost. But that’s okay because
that’s the idea. Spirituality is about losing oneself, letting go of the familiar and coming face to face with the truth
that resides deep within yourself.
What have I been continuously harping about all throughout these articles? The true spiritual seeker must eventually find
a way to detach him or herself from their infatuation with the physical world. Not that there’s anything wrong with
the physical world. It is holy. The Earth is a living being and she should be honored, respected and taken care of. But in
the final analysis the physical world is an illusion. Its purpose is but for our education as souls. We incarnate into this
dimension so that we can learn our lessons, correct the deviations we’ve made and recognize ourselves as the Divine
Beings that we are so that we can move on in our spiritual evolution. But nevertheless, although it is sacred we seem to be
so convinced that this physical dimension is all there is. Some if not most people go so far as to think that we’re
meant to grow old and die and then what….Oblivion? Or better yet, we go to a world in which a vengeful God takes His
wrath out on us for all of the sins we’ve committed? You see, these are all psychological constructs so prevalent in
our minds about how things are yet they have no base in reality. They are a result of our infatuation with being so tied to
the physical world. And so eventually if one wants to grow beyond that and reach for a higher more meaningful mode of existence
he or she must find a way to detach himself from what he has clung to for so long. And the Devil’s Garden maze is just
perfect for that.
It’s so easy to get lost in this place that the National Park Service requires you to apply for a permit to hike through
it. They want to keep tabs on those people who choose to hike through it or go rock climbing just in case they get lost or
get hurt while getting lost.
In the old days this rite of passage thing was taken very seriously and you didn’t just turn fourteen and decide on
your own to go gallivanting off into Devil’s Garden. No, you spent a lot of time with the tribal shaman. He educated
you about what you’re about to go through and he made sure you had plenty of drinking water with you when you went there.
And you did this as a group along with those of your own age in the tribe.
So, as we were driving through Arches National Park I was remembering all of this and experiencing all of this. Then there
was one time when we stopped to take pictures of this place. Ahead of me was what seemed to me to be an entrance to this maze.
At that moment I wanted so much to just start walking toward it and explore what’s in there. But it was so hot outside
that my wife asked me not to go so that we could get going given that it was dangerous to go anywhere in this heat. In my
heart I wanted so much to go but I realized that I have obligations to my family. I can’t just walk off like that even
though I was feeling the way I was.
That really kind of sucks though because coming to this place was an answer to my prayers. For months prior to coming out
here on our vacation I had prayed to Goddess. (Some of you pray to God. I pray to Goddess. Woman gives birth to everybody
and Goddess gave birth to the Universe. That’s how I see it. But please pray and practice your own spirituality as you
see fit and as our Constitutional Bill Of Rights allows you.) I asked her to show Herself to me and take me on my spiritual
journey as we travel out west. And She led me to this very sacred place. I just wish they hadn’t called this place Devil’s
Garden. I swear, the guy who gave this sacred place that awful name must have walked through this place and because of all
of the strange rock formations he must have allowed himself to see something dark within himself, an unprocessed emotional
experience or an unfortunate past life experience for him to come up with that name.
There is no devil. There is no malformed individual with horns on his head carrying a pitchfork who is guardian over the underworld
where all the bad people go after they die. He doesn’t exist and the Earth below you isn’t a hiding place for
all of the evil people either. The only dark individual is the misunderstood part of ourselves that we refuse to face and
integrate into our personae.
Well, the next article should be interesting when I talk about when we went rafting on the Colorado River.
Part 5 of "Our 2008 Western Vacation"
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