TRAVEL WRITING PROMPT
Finding Energy Vortexes in Sedona
Bell Rock stands tall in its vast, umber-colored desert
Our trip to Sedona, Arizona, started as a search for energy vortexes.
A vortex is a special location on Earth where the Earth’s energy is concentrated at specific points. This energy supposedly has a positive effect on people, causing feelings of enhanced well-being, health, and spiritual growth. Bell Rock is reputed to have a strong vortex, and many people often hike there to meditate and connect to their spiritual sides. But most people climb the rock to conquer the challenge and enjoy the view.
My brand of spirituality leans toward the “woo woo” side of the spectrum. I collect crystals, burn sage, say affirmations, set intentions, and believe that we are spiritual beings sharing a human experience. So the idea that powerful centers of focused energy that affect humans in positive ways exist on the planet is not too far fetched for me to believe.
Experiencing a vortex firsthand had been on my bucket list for years. So when my husband asked me where I wanted to travel to for my birthday I blurted, “Sedona. I want to find the vortexes.”
Before our trip, I researched the area and looked specifically for sites where energy vortexes are easy to find among the buttes and rock formations. I read that Sedona’s vortexes are some of the strongest on the planet, and I wanted to find them to see if I could feel the purported effects.
So I Googled “vortexes in Sedona,” added “stand inside a vortex” to my travel itinerary, then printed a couple maps and tucked them into my travel bag.
We landed in Phoenix, Arizona’s state capital, and made it our home base for the week. On day two of our weeklong stay, we got up early and drove the rental car north for two hours on Interstate 17 toward Sedona.
The landscape was vastly different than what I’m familiar with in Kentucky. The first thing that stood out to me from the car window was the lack of tall trees, such as sugar maples, sycamores, and pin oaks — trees I take for granted at home. But something else was missing that I couldn’t place. Then it dawned on me: the color green.
In Kentucky, green grass is ubiquitous. It lies like carpet in private yards and most public spaces. Grass is so commonplace that I barely notice it at all. But, in Sedona, I encountered barren vistas of ochre and amber; rust-colored rock formations against the cerulean blue sky; and cacti, agave, and shrubs that dotted the ground. It was as if I had woken up on another planet. Different and strange to me, but beautiful in its own right.
Pictures can’t capture the beauty I saw that day, nor can they inspire the awe I felt seeing a completely foreign landscape for the first time. For me, it was a spiritual reminder of how expansive and diverse our planet is, and how small humans truly are.
We packed a few snacks and bottles of water that morning for the hike and climb. We decided early on that we would allow the day to unfold slowly. We wanted to be present and open to whatever magic was revealed to us, so we set no timelines or goals, except one: finding and experiencing a vortex. We walked toward the butte at a steady pace across the burnt orange ground for more than an hour before we reached the foot of Bell Rock.
The base is larger than I anticipated, and its peak reaches higher. No footpaths or man-made handholds are in place to welcome you when you arrive. If you want to see the view from the top, you have to earn it. You climb up the old fashioned way: one step up at a time. Much of the climb requires using your hands and feet at once — more a scramble upward than a graceful ascent. Fortunately several natural levels are available for resting before you reach the top.
Climbers and descenders coalesced into a two-way line that snaked up the slope. At times traffic jams of people ensued, which required brief negotiations on who would pass through the narrow, precarious openings or who would shimmy down a slick, steep passage in the rock first.
As I climbed, I could see people of all ages and abilities on different levels of the formation, and if I leaned back and squinted I could see a few intrepid climbers who actually reached the top.
At about level three, I decided I had reached the limit of our climbing prowess. My husband stopped, too, although I’m certain he could have reached a higher shelf if he had tried. But I knew I had reached my own, personal stopping place. I didn’t quite reach the center of the vortex like I had planned, but I felt calm, happy, and at peace anyway. I was content with how far up I had climbed.
In that moment, I knew I had done enough.
On the shelf where we stopped our climb, we could see for miles into the distance. We both quietly sat there, resting, taking occasional photographs of the spectacular view, and absorbing the moment into our bones.
People meandered around us: some continued climbing up, others started their treks down. After a while, we pulled our snacks and water from our backpacks and had an impromptu picnic close-enough to a vortex in the middle of the desert on the side of Bell Rock.
I love this memory of our afternoon on the big, red, bell-shaped rock.
Websites I read during my research said over and over that you will know when it’s time to stop climbing and rest, that the vortex will nudge you to let you know when you are exactly where you are supposed to be.
And I can attest, those websites were right. I’m a believer because it happened to me.
#naturalwonders
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