I love to watch the full moon rise. It amazes me. One moon. One world. One beautiful peaceful moment of hope.

I was in Sedona, Arizona, a couple of weeks ago on a full moon hike. We were surrounded by horizons of mountains, and climbing a red rock trail. Cactus like sculptures against the landscape, the steely leaves of agave plants, the moon had crested above the rocks, and hovered in the twilight sky. A warm autumn night on the verge of winter. The quiet was broken only by our footsteps and the howl of coyote. We didn’t need our headlamps. The moon illuminated our path. It was enough.

When we reached the top, our Native American guide gestured for me to sit on a stone, and bask in the light of the moon. He was seventy years old. George. Not his birth name. Part Hopi. He was a medicine man. Once his ancestors inhabited these canyons. It was theirs – a home, traversed, protected; they slept within the rocks, danced upon mother earth – it still holds their spirit – a feather of the eagle, the burning of sage, an homage. Their faces seem to be naturally carved, infused with a soul in the red rocks. I can feel their presence as he speaks.

The red stars are the ones that are travelling closer to earth, the blue ones further away. We were so high up; I could trace the silhouettes of the moons surface. He told me about the healing power of moonbeams, “ Breathe in to my fears, and exhale allowing calm energy.” He showed me the shadow that stretched out behind – my other self.  He put his hands on my shoulders.

The air was fragrant. I was overcome with the scent. I asked him about it. The aroma of a native plant called the Desert Mariposa, the butterfly plant. Its vermillion flower had gone now, dormant for the winter, yet I was aware of its scent. “You need to break free, allow yourself to be all that you can be, stop holding yourself back. This is why you are smelling the Mariposa.”

I felt remarkably grounded, infused with the quiet beauty of my surroundings and the mesmerizing, intuitive voice of my guide. Perhaps there is something about the moon, and the Mariposa.