For some reason, every natural monument in the desert is named after what it vaguely looks like from a very specific angle. Bell Rock is no different. From most angles, it’s just a rock.
We arrive to the vortex site on the map with little fanfare. It’s empty. No circle of hippies. No humming. Of course, no Melinda or Alexis. I’m not surprised, but it’s hard not to be disappointed. It’s clear we have no real idea what we’re doing and the fact we’ve made it this far is an anomaly.
Gus sit down on a rock, closes his eyes, and lets out a heavy sigh.
I move deeper into the vortex site. People have set up rocks in a circle, drawn symbols in the sand, and even made small shrines. I look at the map again. Why here? Why Sedona? What does any of this have to do with Owl?
It starts with a pressure on my forehead, which moves down to my eyes. The fillings in my teeth feel electric. I lose feeling in my legs first, then my arms.
I am in a small tunnel, barely large enough to fit my shoulders. I can’t tell if I can feel my arms or not because I can’t move them. I think I can move my fingers, but all I feel is the cold dirt surrounding me. I try to push with my legs, but can’t get anywhere. It’s dark, I think. I don’t know if my eyes are open or closed. I can feel my breathing speed up, each breath coming just after the last. I can’t keep air down.
Something taps my arm.
“Sally,” it’s Gus. “Sally, are you okay?”
I am laying in the sand staring at a bright blue sky. Gus looks down at me, worried.
“I…” I blink and take one large, deep breath, “I’m okay, sorry, I don’t know what happened. I must have nodded off.”
“It’s been a long couple days,” Gus says, giving me a hand up. My legs feel like Jell-O. Everything useful has been drained from my body, leaving me with a broken, hollow shell. “Let’s get back to the hotel and reset. Maybe tomorrow will be better.”
As we walk away from Bell Rock, a group of tourists arrive covered in thick layers of white sunscreen, each toting several cameras. An older man addresses the group as a whole, “This is one of the strongest vortices in Sedona,” he says, in a tone that makes me realize he must be a tour guide. He grabs one of his larger, stranger looking cameras, “With this night vision camera, we’ll be able to see some of the activity that happens around here. But you might feel it before we even get there. If you feel dizzy or lightheaded, grab onto your partner. Some people have described the feeling of ‘being squished into nothing’ which sounds pretty unpleasant to me! But I’m told it’s a transformative experience, one that helps you see more in the future.”
Gus and I make our way back to the car and eventually the hotel. It’s not even four in the afternoon, but I can barely muster up the strength to get to my bed before passing out.
