Feelin' the Flow

Mar 20, 2019
A sunset view of Florence and Duomo, Italy
I finally did it.  I returned to Arizona where this all began so many years ago.  In 1996, when I left the Marine Corps Air Station located in Yuma, Arizona, I was so relieved.  I was relieved of the heat, the desert, the empty feeling of being left behind in what became a less important job specialty.  The HAWK Missile System Operator command — then known as the Light Anti Aircraft Missile Battalion — was being phased out of service in favor of the U.S. Army's Patriot missile defense system, and the U.S. Marine Corps' Stinger missile battalions that were located all over the United States and abroad.

I was stepping into the unknown with an application, and subsequent orders, to attend the esteemed Marine Security Guard program, that was located in Quantico, Virginia.  I was often teased for having obtained orders to attempt to pass this rigorous course at such a young age.  Both short on time in the Marine Corps, and short on duty with just over a year serving in Yuma, many of my peers were doubtful of my inevitable success.  Not only from an age, or time in service perspective, but also of the high attrition and washout rate from this specialized training.  Not only was it voluntary, but it was also very selective with the slightest mishap, or misrepresentation, risking the threat of expulsion and being returned to the previous command and duty station.

This time was different.  This time was different because, yes, I was in Sedona to visit and to attend a continuing education seminar, I was also in Arizona to visit the Hopi Reservation.  Yes, the Hopi Reservation, the one that’s also surrounded with the Navajo Reservation and a series of dry, arid, plateaus while remaining home to the Third Mesa itself.  I don’t think they were expecting me, in fact, I don’t think they were expecting anyone from Ohio.  They definitely weren’t expecting an outsider with a few hours of downtime to drive all the way north, just to briefly visit their famed village and shopping boutiques.  This is what I came to Arizona for, I thought to myself.  To fill my mind with soft tissue restrictions, to experience an energetic rebalance, and to visit the Third Mesa.  If not now, when?  If not then, then why not?  I also had been looking for just the right corn maiden to help round out my altar space.  Not too big, not too small.  Just right.

Beginning in 2007, leading into 2008, and prior to President Barack Obama’s first election, most of the groundwork for what we’re seeing online had now been laid.  I had found myself lying in the depths of a wound that I had not known, nor anticipated, before.  As a young Marine, I was used to taking care of myself.  I was used to the expectation of being a person that was capable, and willing, to take care of oneself.  The medicine that John carried had clearly knocked me on my ass with a slew of multidimensional reverberations that echoed throughout my spirit and body, and well into Central Ohio itself.  It's not that I considered myself well-known outside of a few, small, healing circles, it's only that I had been presented with a growth opportunity.  This opportunity, as unrealistic as it may have been, would have better positioned my business, and then-partnership, into a solid performing community with potential locations scattered across the States.

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