From the minute I walked out of the airport and into the Arizona sun, I felt LIGHTER, freer, happier, content. But the trip itself was a disaster for the most part. At the airport I couldn't find my headphones, so I paid outrageous airport prices for a new pair, only to get there and realize I did have them, they were just stuffed away in my luggage, and then leaving them in the rental car when we returned it. At the gate, my cooler/carry on was too big and they made me check it, and I left the charger and dvds in it after I took my laptop out of it. I sprained my ankle by missing the last step at the hotel the very first whole day I was there, and then hiked a 2.5 mile path up Superstition Mountain (my place of peace). My friend walked the whole trail with me, and she fell on the way down. It stormed pretty bad Saturday night, and the next two days were only in the 50’s. We were very late for the return flight and when I got to the airport they had to search my carry on. Apparently I exceeded the amount of small bottles of liquids and they threw out my hairspray and flat iron spray. I find it ironic that security at Sky Harbor airport it tighter than O’hare International.
Aside from the above, I had several highlights from my trip. I was determined not to let any of that junk interfere with my enjoyment of my favorite place. After I sprained my ankle Friday morning, I continued on with my plans to hike Superstition Mountain, my place of peace. I had decided to take some of my Mom’s ashes there with me and scatter them. She was never able to physically go up the mountain trails like my son and I did every year, but she would have loved to. It’s silent up there, serene, a nice breeze, you can actually hear the wind, see the hawks soar, wings outstretched, gliding but not moving at all. The wildflowers in spring, a carpet of little yellow and white poppies, the shades of the stones. Reds, corals, grays, oranges, even purple. My Mom always loved Native Americans, and their history. The superstition mountains had history. Legend has it that the Apache Indians hid gold they had stolen from the Spaniards.
I found a beautiful area lined with large stones, boulders and some brush to provide shade, and whispered goodbye again, and cast her ashes to the wind. It was a powerful and spiritual moment for me which brought me to tears. I think she would be happy.
It was very difficult for me to retrieve those ashes from the urn that sits on my curio. I was always too upset to even open the wooden jewelry box type urn, let alone open the container that lies within. But, I took a deep breath, cut the seal on it, opened the bag, removed the tag, and opened the inner bag to scoop out a small amount of ashes. I was not prepared for how difficult it would be for me, because I wasn’t aware of how much crushed bone there was in the cremains. I knew I would most likely encounter bone fragment, but I was taken aback by the gravel like consistency of it. It really upset me to say the least. Took me a long time to calm down from that. So….after going through all of that, I refused to let a sprained ankle interfere. After all, this trip could very well end up being the last one that I would be physically fit or able to do that hike.
Saturday night we went to dinner with my Arizona twitter pals…and I cannot say enough how much I love them. They’re all wonderful, treated me like family, and I felt a strong sense of belonging. Earlier that morning I was even given the gift of taking a ride on the back of a motorcycle to Tortilla Flat, which is in the superstition mountain range. Beautifully stunning scenery, it was a fulfillment of one of my fondest wishes, to ride on a bike alongside my mountain, enjoying Arizona air. My Grandma could see Superstition Mountain out of her kitchen window. When I first visited her as a little girl, she would say see my mountain? Then, when my son came with me, I would tell him when we hiked, this is my mountain, and he would argue with me that it was his, so we would agree that it was OUR mountain. It has deep special meaning to me, and to be able to ride there, it was indeed a bucket list moment. And I thank Tony for making it come to fruition. Love ya Tony, you and Becky are GOOD PEEPS, the greatest! There are not words for how special that was for me. xoxo.
Saturday night it ended up storming like crazy, lightning, thunder, pounding rain. As my bff stood out on the balcony watching the lightning over our view of North Mountain, I mentioned that my Mom loved storms and loved watching them. Then it came to me…the day after she passed, I woke up to a raging storm, lightning galore. I said, that must be Mom, up there saying do that again, I wanna see!
The day after I spread her ashes in Arizona, it stormed like crazy in the desert. Coincidence? Perhaps…but I think maybe not. I believe in God, and the Universe, and I believe they speak to us in many ways. While on the mountain hike, I sat looking toward the top, and asked God and the Universe for my hearts desires. Happy, healthy, financially secure, to be loved and in love for many joyful years of the rest of my life, so that I can, in turn spread joy and happiness, and help in any way that I can.
It all went by so fast, and now I’m home, back in the cold. But my heart is warmer these days, having visited my favorite place, and meeting up in person with my favorite people. Warmer indeed!
Aside from the above, I had several highlights from my trip. I was determined not to let any of that junk interfere with my enjoyment of my favorite place. After I sprained my ankle Friday morning, I continued on with my plans to hike Superstition Mountain, my place of peace. I had decided to take some of my Mom’s ashes there with me and scatter them. She was never able to physically go up the mountain trails like my son and I did every year, but she would have loved to. It’s silent up there, serene, a nice breeze, you can actually hear the wind, see the hawks soar, wings outstretched, gliding but not moving at all. The wildflowers in spring, a carpet of little yellow and white poppies, the shades of the stones. Reds, corals, grays, oranges, even purple. My Mom always loved Native Americans, and their history. The superstition mountains had history. Legend has it that the Apache Indians hid gold they had stolen from the Spaniards.
I found a beautiful area lined with large stones, boulders and some brush to provide shade, and whispered goodbye again, and cast her ashes to the wind. It was a powerful and spiritual moment for me which brought me to tears. I think she would be happy.
It was very difficult for me to retrieve those ashes from the urn that sits on my curio. I was always too upset to even open the wooden jewelry box type urn, let alone open the container that lies within. But, I took a deep breath, cut the seal on it, opened the bag, removed the tag, and opened the inner bag to scoop out a small amount of ashes. I was not prepared for how difficult it would be for me, because I wasn’t aware of how much crushed bone there was in the cremains. I knew I would most likely encounter bone fragment, but I was taken aback by the gravel like consistency of it. It really upset me to say the least. Took me a long time to calm down from that. So….after going through all of that, I refused to let a sprained ankle interfere. After all, this trip could very well end up being the last one that I would be physically fit or able to do that hike.
Saturday night we went to dinner with my Arizona twitter pals…and I cannot say enough how much I love them. They’re all wonderful, treated me like family, and I felt a strong sense of belonging. Earlier that morning I was even given the gift of taking a ride on the back of a motorcycle to Tortilla Flat, which is in the superstition mountain range. Beautifully stunning scenery, it was a fulfillment of one of my fondest wishes, to ride on a bike alongside my mountain, enjoying Arizona air. My Grandma could see Superstition Mountain out of her kitchen window. When I first visited her as a little girl, she would say see my mountain? Then, when my son came with me, I would tell him when we hiked, this is my mountain, and he would argue with me that it was his, so we would agree that it was OUR mountain. It has deep special meaning to me, and to be able to ride there, it was indeed a bucket list moment. And I thank Tony for making it come to fruition. Love ya Tony, you and Becky are GOOD PEEPS, the greatest! There are not words for how special that was for me. xoxo.
Saturday night it ended up storming like crazy, lightning, thunder, pounding rain. As my bff stood out on the balcony watching the lightning over our view of North Mountain, I mentioned that my Mom loved storms and loved watching them. Then it came to me…the day after she passed, I woke up to a raging storm, lightning galore. I said, that must be Mom, up there saying do that again, I wanna see!
The day after I spread her ashes in Arizona, it stormed like crazy in the desert. Coincidence? Perhaps…but I think maybe not. I believe in God, and the Universe, and I believe they speak to us in many ways. While on the mountain hike, I sat looking toward the top, and asked God and the Universe for my hearts desires. Happy, healthy, financially secure, to be loved and in love for many joyful years of the rest of my life, so that I can, in turn spread joy and happiness, and help in any way that I can.
It all went by so fast, and now I’m home, back in the cold. But my heart is warmer these days, having visited my favorite place, and meeting up in person with my favorite people. Warmer indeed!
I wish I could have hiked that beautiful mountain with you. :) You are a very strong lady! I know it's not the same (because my thoughts are on Juliet my dog and you speak of your mother), but I kinda understand the feelings you have of opening the urn. *hugs*
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing your feelings and experience of your journey back to Arizona. Hopefully one day I'll make it out there and we can all meet up and spend time with the biker fam together! :)