Oak Creek Espresso

I left the Bell Rock vortex at 9:45am. As my shivering fingers and warming feet soaked in the heat from the warming SUV I had rented, I searched for Hot Coffee nearby and found Oak Creek Espresso. 

Arriving into the eclectic and cozy atmosphere, the coffee barista cheered and welcomed every customer. With a strawberry blond pixie cut, button down flannel and swaying stone earrings she took my order for a coconut milk latte.

I watched as she and her coworkers seemed to know most of the people ordering drinks and pastries by name. With a boisterous and kind laugh she asked them how they were doing and made everyone who entered feel important. 

My beverage was just what I needed to thaw the frost that had seemed to reach my bones. Having hiked in 24 degree pre-sun coolness wearing dress shoes, I was now walking around wearing black gym socks underneath my fancy sandals. I looked comical- and I didn't care. 

Oak Creek Espresso shares the parking lot with a Local Artist Collective Gallery. It just so happened to be opening as I left the cafe. As an artist, I am passionate about supporting local talent and sipped my latte as I passed through the glass doors perusing the diverse displays. 

"Hi!" a woman who appeared to be in her mid-fifties with Carmel colored chin length hair greeted me. She wore simple navy blouse and slacks, her golden brown skin and dark eyes were beautiful, suggesting a soulful heritage.

She casually explained how the Art Collective worked. "Every artist gets a wall for display and takes turns working here." 

"Oh! Which is yours?" I asked encouragingly. 

She took me to a wall of large canvases that each showcases a single portrait. Her style was whimsical verging on abstract. I stood enjoying her work silent courtesy. 

"Well; is one of these sticking out to you? What are you tuning in to?" she pressed kindly. 

There was something in the way she asked that made me feel compelled to answer truthfully. "I don't see one, I see the whole. They are all different faces of ethnicity. They show the divine in all corners of the world." 

She gasped softly and placed her hand on her heart. "Oh my. That was beautiful. I wish I had recorded it. It just rolled off your tongue." Her dark eyes looked imploringly at me. 

I smiled. "I'm a channel. I share what I'm guided to." she received my answer with receptivity so I continued. "Your work is painting the face of God-or whatever word you use for God. You are showing the Divine." Tears fell down her cheeks. 

"Can I give you a hug?" she asked and I welcomed her embrace. With a smile I simply moved on, admiring other works. The gallery was mostly empty. As I rounded a corner display of Native American Handmade Silver Jewelry, a different middle-aged woman stepped out from behind. 

"Excuse me," she was hesitant. Her blue eyes were behind glasses, her brunette hair fell to her shoulders. "I overheard what you said," she paused, unsure. "Do you do readings?" The question took me by surprise. I thought of my studio in Lehi, Utah and the sound sessions I do. "No." I responded with a smile I hoped appeared compassionate as her face fell. "Do you have a specific question? Perhaps I can offer some support?"

Sighing lightly, "There's so much. I wouldn't know what question to ask." she despaired.

I stood thoughtful for a moment before continuing. "I can ask your highest self for a message if you like?" I offered. 

Her head tilted to the side slightly, perplexed but she said "Ok."

I asked her to speak her given name at birth as I placed my hand in front of her heart. We stood as time stopped, it was peaceful. My eyes were closed, things were silent. Twenty or so seconds passed. 

"I've got it." I dropped my hand. 

I could see she was confused but curious. 

"The message I see for you is a white feather blowing in the breeze. All over the place. It can seem like there's no way or reason to the flight. But remember that angels wings are carrying you. What seems like the wind is actually your angels wings beating. I see the feather landing at the top of a Mesa. Planted upright and steady. This tells me that you will land where you are supposed to and be on the plateau where you have the higher perspective and solid ground." 

More tears. "That fits." she almost whispered. 

I didn't look around to see if anyone else was watching. I didn't buy anything from the gallery. I slipped out the doors and drove away. Again, feeling the freedom of being in a place where I can be who I am without holding back. 

My suitcases were in the back of the vehicle and glancing at the clock I decided to make my way back to Phoenix to catch my flight. There was plenty of time for me to find a great lunch place to eat when I got into the city. 

Five miles into the drive, a text from my best friend jingled. I glanced. "Bring me back some dirt from Sedona please." it said. 

I quickly typed into my search engine "Park near me." 

"Montezuma's Well" the universe answered through Google Maps. 

I tapped the directions and let Siri lead me there. 

Montezuma's Well, as it turned out, was a sacred water source to prehistoric people. There are no accidents. They were using modern technology to beckon me- I couldn't possibly have known. 

See that story in my blog: 

Montezuma's Well   

Are you connected to sacred places? Do you want to learn more and see more? Interested in Shamanism and learning ancient wisdom?

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