She turned right off the main desert highway. Impatient white trucks sped past her to their important destinations. She was alone on her healing journey to the Holy Site in the Springs. She wasn’t actually sure where she was going or which place would be the Holy Site. So what? she thought to herself. The Sacred will make itself known.

She rolled down her windows, starting her transformation. Her face and legs would be red and patchy by the evening. 

The clouds were gray and puffed like carbuncles to the north, where she was headed. She was not worried about the weather; she actually preferred it to be unstable. As a Midwesterner, she was used to blazing heat being whisked away by a shady cold front and a rush of rain dancing on the pavement. She had all sorts of clothes and jackets strewn across the backseat of her RV. Bring it on, she thought.

Above her, the sky was blue and white and golden. It resembled the piece of lapis lazuli she kept in her secret pants pocket that snapped shut. It resonated with her attitude. She opened her sunroof, smiling. 

Hummingbird buzzed by, announcing her arrival to the other Spirits. 

She followed the ancient trail between the red and green mountains.

The rusty red road revealed a different scene around every bend: an elk prairie, a bald mountain with matchstick trees from last year’s fires, a stream, formations with Spanish names that looked like shells. She leaned expectantly into each curve.

Suddenly, she arrived at the entrance to the spring-fed lake. There was a giant nest atop an untouched ponderosa pine. Its spiky headband of woven branches appeared to be as broad as her car. She wondered, could it be an eagle’s nest? Would she be so honored to have the presence of Eagle to guide her out of her learned helplessness and grief? Did Eagle possess the secret magic that made things like being adopted and abused go away, or was it too much to ask? 

She pulled into the state park just beyond the nest. The lake was clear as glass, people dotted sparsely along its shore. Their curved poles created circles as they were reflected in the water. This timeless custom of people fishing along the shore connected them with their surroundings and communal hopes of giant rainbow trout for dinner.

She drove in, parked by the fisher-people, and walked around what turned out to be a campground. 

A group of four or five vultures were jumping around one another in the center of the campground. They seemed to be fighting or playing; she could not tell, as they were somewhat hidden by the picnic benches and shadows produced by the dense forest surrounding them. One vulture flew off in the direction of the nest and another followed soon after, both picking themselves up from the ground with their massive black wings, shooting dust around like manta rays kicking up sand on the bottom of the ocean. They needed great power to get themselves started and shadow over other beings.

She usually saw vultures gliding high above the prairies and mountains, scanning the earth for fallen prey. She hardly ever saw them up close. One vulture was still in the middle of the camp, so she took out her camera and zoomed in on its gnarly red head. The vulture bounced twice and took off. These must be the spirits Hummingbird had called her to. 

Vultures linked the Underworld with the Earth, the Earth with the Heavens. They recognized their place in Nature’s cycle and cleaned up after the fallen. They were the birds of renewal. They were omniscient. They looked Death straight in the eye and found nourishment from it. They digested almost everything, turning the lifeless into energy. They ate all the details. They got rid of the evidence. Their faces and legs, red and featherless, allowed them to do their dirty work without becoming sick themselves. 

They groaned and hissed, so others knew when they were displeased. Otherwise, they had nothing to say. After some time, after much rumination, much teeth gnashing, there had to be nothing more. 

Maybe she didn’t have to open up her throat chakra with a blue stone anymore. Maybe everyone she knew had heard enough complaints about her family from the past half-century. Maybe she had said enough for now. She nodded her head in agreement, not looking around for validation from anyone else. Silent acknowledgment of this idea felt pretty good. 

Another vulture took off to the nest. The last one flew up to a pine tree a few feet away from her and allowed her to stay with it. Observe. She examined its red legs, its clenched talons. It stayed put. It didn’t mind her company. They were kin.

She had begun to heal.