I don't remember much from my childhood.
I recall my Omni, my paternal grandmother, talking a lot about the time she spent in New Mexico.
I was never really clear about what she was doing there or how she ended up there but the light that illuminated from her when she spoke of the place seemed more important to me then the details.
I have always been ignited by the spark that dwells in my father's mother and because of her
I was born enchanted;
from a line of wild hearted wanderers.
Naturally, New Mexico called.
Well, technically Carly Valentine called.
" I need to go west,"
" Where are you going to go?"
I waited for the response but I knew exactly where she was headed.
About two years ago I began working with coins.
I incorporated them into my alters and found a way to use them in my yoga practice.
Counting my then 26, now 28, soon 29 daily sun salutations.
I had begun dreaming about coins a few years before this practice became apparent though.
In the dreams,
I would often be traveling and I would land in a river filled with coins
or they would rain down on me or I would find one that held a special symbol.
A lot of my karma in this life seems centered around clearing past relationships with money.
However, my relationship with coins might also be directly connected to shiny copper on worn leather.
My Omni's penny loafers.
It might also have something to do with my 11th summer.
Our car broke down on 83 south
leaving us no choice but to take foot.
I remember noticing it about her before;
she always seemed to be looking towards the earth, as if searching for something.
I remember that specific day especially though because she found a coin along the side of the highway.
On both sides of the large coin showcased a different sexual position involving
a man and a woman in union.
She extracted such joy out of it,
as if she had finally found what she had been looking for,
laughing with us at the awkward obscurity.
The magic that coin presented...
the wonder it offered to us as she leaned down to claim her treasure,
the support she had found,
almost as if it were a sign,
and the power it held as it transformed the road into a poetic metaphor for self discovery.
I had started coming into contact with a lot of New Mexico quarters the months before Carly Valentine reached out to me.
I would hold them and imagine myself uniting with the desert light.
I would admire their details, take notes of their symbols,
feel their weight.
By paying attention to small moments like this, the connections that exist in cosmic details,
I have become really good at what the story teller calls "foreshadowing" .
So when Carly Valentine responded,
it was no surprise to either of us that I had been preparing for that road to open.
The road was meant to unite us.
With no desire to get lost in controlling the details
it was clear we were being called
to realize the dream.
With our eyes on the earth,
We surrendered ourselves to the road.
A trust in what lied ahead,
as the illusions of plans seemed to be transformed by
the map's abandon,
the skies changing tide,
deep red wine.
A release of what lied behind,
as turning around would prevent one's eyes from witnessing the bleeding horizons
as the sun cracked itself open and spilled onto the dirt.
Revealing its inner most illuminations,
baptizing us into divine sacred union
penetrating our darkest, most personal rhythms.
A new way of being...
that of the truly enchanted.
Words can not describe how truly enchanted I am, Carly Valentine.