Rotating through feelings in five-minute stints.

Sadness. Aunt Sylvia may be dying.

Anger. I told Chas this vacation wouldn’t work.

Love. He is a sweet man.

Frustration. This Sedona trip was my idea, now I have to miss it all.

Guilt. I should have gone straight to New York.

Worry. What if I don’t get there in time?

Contentment. At least I have one day here.

We spend the day at Bell Rock where, our guidebook says, “the vortex energy is powerful.”

We start up the trail, but it’s like any other trail. Or, rather, we act like we would on any other trail.

Chas stops every three feet to take pictures.

Eli talks cosmology. “All the organic chemicals were here on the planet,” he says, “but they weren’t organized. One theory says that lightning started a chemical reaction.”

“Let there be light,” I say, quoting religious text.

All three of us read the interpretive sign and laugh. It asks, “Why did Congress create wilderness areas?”  Haha! As if Congress has the power to create wilderness. Congress can only agree not to destroy it.

“I don’t feel the vortex energy yet,” says Chas.

“Me neither,” says Eli.

“We’ll do a meditation,” I assure them.

To our climbing hands and feet, Bell Rock feels like a pile of red clay circles, each circle narrower than the one under it. To our eyes, it looks like a giant Oven of Akhnai, the controversial clay oven of Talmudic fame, made of a series of concentric coils. Debate over the purity of the oven goes awry, and disputants learn that hurt feelings can destroy a world.

Chas, Eli and I scramble up the red rocks. Each short climb takes us to a small flat shelf. “We’ll find a place for the meditation,” I say. The wind picks up, but each shelf is a protective lee.

Eli points. “I choose this spot next to this awesome living tree.” He sits in the tree; Chas and I claim ground on either side.

I speak simply, led by my own perceptions.

Sit with your spine straight, but not so straight that you’re working to hold it up. 

As you breathe in, feel your breath rise up your spine; as you breathe out, relax.

As you breathe in, feel your breath come up your spine to the top of your head; as you breathe out, relax.

Feel the wind massage you.

Feel your breath come out the top of your head.

Let your breath merge with the wind.

I open my eyes for a sneak peek.

All of us wear beatific smiles, as we sit easily in cross-legged postures with no back support.

White dots waft down onto us. Hail, soft as cotton, blows our way.

“A perfect moment,” Eli says.

He grabs his notebook and scrambles up Bell Rock out of his parents’ reach. Chas walks around a corner with his camera, drawn by golden sunlight. With my own notebook, I sit back down by the living tree.

Worrisome clouds gather overhead. With no specific signal, we regroup.

“Did you feel the vortex?”

“I didn’t,” says Eli.

“I didn’t,” says Chas.

“I definitely did,” I say. “What about during the meditation?”

“The meditation was dope.” Eli says. Chas, too, admits it was lovely.

“What did you write about, Mom?” Eli asks me.

“How the place seems to have a friendly feel.” Chas agrees. So does Eli.

“I have a feeling of well-being,” I say. Chas and Eli agree.

“That’s the vortex.”

Two hours later, I wait in the airport to begin my all-night trip to New York. And I am calm. My thoughts are orderly; my feelings no longer crush me.

Like hypothetical lightning at the moment of creation, organizing the organic, the vortex has worked its magic.

Images: (1) Charles Kaplan at Bell Rock vortex, photo by Laura Duhan Kaplan; (2) Charles Kaplan at Boynton Canyon Vista vortex, photo by Eli Kaplan.