"The Sacred": Go Gather Bones
A spiritual, synchronistic journey to Sedona
"The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper." —W.B. Yeats
Mystical Meeting
In a century-old log teahouse perched high on a mountain in Banff, during a spontaneous week-long adventure with someone I barely knew, I noticed a thick, worn book sitting alone on a nearby chair. As the clamor of hungry hikers and the bustling of lively waitresses faded into the background, the simple drawing of a woman with a wolf and the title made its presence known, immediately calling to something untamed within me:
The Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype by Clarissa Pinkola Estés.
Unsure of what it truly meant to “run with the wolves” but sensing that I might at least be jogging with them on this trip that felt like a free-flowing, wild woman adventure, I was compelled to learn more. Intrigued, I snapped a photo of the cover so I wouldn’t forget to order it once I had cell service again.
Having read Women Who Run With the Wolves now, it seems fitting that the book found me there. The trip was driven by intuition and synchronicity, and the book arrived at a moment when I was profoundly reconnecting with nature, which it identifies as a gateway to our instinctual selves.
I have read countless books, but never one where each word felt like a direct message from the universe to my soul. With every page I turned, I felt increasingly alive, infused with a surge of creative, feminine energy—my own and the collective force of all women. This book deepened my connection with myself and linked me arm and arm with the shared experiences of women everywhere. It felt as if we were all living the same life, just with slightly different storylines.
Embracing the Call of the Wild
Guided by a similar stroke of synchronicity as when I found the book, I discovered a 16-week online course exploring the book's depths. Taught by mythologist Maria Souza, I heard about the course through a friend's podcast and eagerly enrolled, ready to dive deeper into this transformative text I had just finished.
One week, as I settled into my desk chair to watch the course, I found myself distracted by thoughts of where to go on my next solo adventure over spring break, a time when my kids would be with their dad. I usually look forward to exploring new places, so I was surprised when Sedona, Arizona came to mind—I had visited it a couple of times already.
Two years ago, I attended a breathwork retreat there, and at the conclusion, the facilitator planned a hike to the Birthing Cave. Unfortunately, I had to catch a flight home and missed the hike. I had forgotten about the cave until a recent photo on social media rekindled my interest. Its name and the fact it was said to resemble a womb piqued my curiosity because I had been fascinated by the death and rebirth cycle of life over the last few years, even going so far as getting a phoenix tattooed on my arm after a particularly profound moment of personal rebirth.
The Myth of La Loba
While I was mulling over where to travel next, I listened to the course and searched for an Airbnb in Lone Pine, California. However, the Birthing Cave in Sedona kept calling to me.
As Maria delved into the myth of La Loba, I became completely absorbed, putting my travel worries aside, not knowing that my destination question was about to be answered. I didn’t even recall encountering this short myth when reading the book initially, but as Maria recounted the story, it resonated deeply with my ongoing journey of self-discovery. It compelled me to look inward and examine the still fragmented pieces of my life.
La Loba is depicted as a primordial, hairy woman dwelling in the desert, known as the “she-wolf” for her mystical ability to transform the bones of dead wolves back into living creatures. She sifts through the sand searching for bones, and once she has gathered the ones she needs, she takes them to her cave and lays them out in the original shape of the creature they once formed. There, beside a fire, she sings over the bones until they flesh out and the wolf becomes alive again, springing out of the cave and transforming into a woman who runs freely into the desert.
Maria brought the rich symbolism of the tale to life, explaining that bones represent the enduring parts of our soul, the bits that remain even when everything else is gone. The act of collecting bones in the desert goes beyond just picking up scattered pieces—it’s about bringing those pieces back together, making sense of them again.
The Latin root of integrate—integrātus, derived from integrō—means to make whole, to renew, to restore. So, when we gather and piece together these bones, we’re not just assembling fragments; we're setting the stage for a fresh start. It’s about healing and moving forward, truly beginning again.
The desert is a symbol of our psyche with all its conscious and unconscious processes. The cave becomes a place or state where we find safety or magic, like the wombs of the earth. Singing breathes life and passion into our souls, while the transformation into a wolf symbolizes the multitude of the wild woman, the wild within us. These pieces of soul include our passions, dreams, traits, qualities, certain places that speak to us, and our heartbreaks and losses.
This intentional search for the pieces of the wild self, our true nature that was tamed or lost along the way, is a sacred endeavor.
“What does it mean to sing over different bones of our life?” Maria asked. She explained that it can mean many things: to make peace with someone from our life, to bring vitality to our creative practice, to spend time connecting with nature.
As she concluded, Maria read a quote from the book. While she read, it became clear where I was to go on my trip.
Don’t be a fool. Go back and stand under that one red flower and walk straight ahead for that last hard mile. Go up and knock on the old weathered door. Climb up to the cave. Crawl through the window of a dream. Sift the desert and see what you find. It is the only work we have to do.
You wish psychoanalytic advice?
Go gather bones.
Following Synchronicities
At the beginning of 2024, I resolved to follow the synchronicities as they appeared, trusting them as guideposts to lead the way. I smiled at this synchronistic direct instruction—“Climb up to the cave”—which was hard to misinterpret. After finishing the week’s course, I booked a place in Sedona. I was ready to sift for my bones in the desert and see what magic awaited me in the womb of the Birthing Cave.
Climbing to the Birthing Cave
The Birthing Cave derives its name from its history and legends of Native American childbirth and sacred rebirth ceremonies, as well as its womb-like shape. Upon arriving in Sedona during the busy spring break season and facing trailhead parking challenges, I immediately felt foolish for choosing that time to go. Despite doubting my intuition, I decided to visit the cave later in the day for a chance to miss the crowds.
As luck would have it, I found a parking spot and embarked on the one-mile hike. Groups of people filled the cave, so I waited outside, taking in its heart-shaped beauty before venturing inside.
In the Heart of the Cave
The jumbled bodies in the cave were snapping photos of each other, making it impossible for me to enter until a few left. It seemed like alone time where I could sit and reflect was very unlikely.
As the minutes passed, and people came and went, it was just me and a mom and her daughter. They decided to forgo waiting for the sunset in favor of dinner and a hot tub, leaving me in happy solitude. Initially frustrated with myself for forgetting my headphones, I was now surrounded by a lovely silence. My heart filled with gratitude as I reflected on my journey in life and how far I’d come. What a beautiful world. What a beautiful life.
As the sky moved toward sunset, I heard a couple climbing up. Disappointed that my time alone was over but grateful for the space that I’d had, I decided to head down and let the couple have their moment. But I only got a third of the way down the hill before I stopped. I still wanted to see the sunset and decided to watch it from a rock. The couple only stayed for a few minutes and then were gone. I couldn’t believe my luck! I hurried back up and sat quietly in the cave once more.
At that moment, as the sunlight faded and the clouds turned a soft purple, I heard a rustling in the tree just outside the cave. Then, suddenly, a small songbird flew out and up into the cave, circling above while serenading me with a happy tune. Tears flooded my eyes and chills cascaded down my body as I realized the profound sweetness of that moment.
You see, after listening to the course on La Loba, I had been inspired to start writing again, a passion—or a “bone”—I feared was lost forever. The first piece I created was “The Sound of Silence”: Echoes of My Soul. This essay, inspired by the imagery of the myth and informed by my recent understanding of how birdsong can shift our nervous system into a restful, parasympathetic state, integrates a metaphorical cave and the singing of a bird into its conclusion. These symbols represent my intuition guiding me toward healing.
Amidst the daily rhythms of caring for others and fulfilling duties, I had become deaf to the sounds of nature (my intuition) and forgotten to wake for spring. But there it was. In the quiet of my soul, I could hear the birds chirping, their songs a signal of safety and a call to adventure beyond the cave of my own making. Would I listen?
And now, here I was, just six weeks after writing that, in a literal cave with a literal bird singing to me. Could this really be just a coincidence? My body knew instantly that it wasn’t. The moment was perfect and meant just for me. After so many years of being disconnected from my intuition, I finally understood what it felt like to truly listen. The quiet whispers of my inner voice that led me to this moment had become a familiar and trusted friend.
I was grateful for the absence of music in my ears that night, as it allowed me to fully hear the bird’s message.
Reflecting on this moment later, I was reminded of one of my favorite songs by Yaima, called 'The Sacred.”
In this moment, all the earth
Stands still
Time unwinds its coil
Life is filled to the brim
With spaciousness
Oh, how simple
Oh, the sacred
Oh, how simple
Oh, the sacred
Running With the Wolves
Oh, the interconnectedness of everything! It’s so simple, yet so sacred. I followed the synchronicity from discovering the course to encountering the cave and was rewarded with yet another synchronicity. What does this mean? To me, it feels like a confirmation of alignment, being in rhythm with the universe—a beautiful, flowing dance where I'm not stepping on toes. I’m listening to my intuition, reconnecting to my creative self, and allowing the magic to lead me in whatever way it will.
For years, I've aspired to view my life as a work of art, the ultimate creative act. In these moments—when all the pieces fit together, when complementary hues blend seamlessly, when the song of nature resonates, and when symbols come to life—I see what’s possible to paint on my canvas.
Reaching the bottom of the hill from the cave, I spontaneously burst into a run. Laughing at the wondrous beauty of life, I instinctively stretched my arms out like a bird, flying down the trail. Even in my heavy hiking boots, which I wouldn’t normally consider for running, I felt unexpectedly light. Renewed.
At that moment, I wasn’t consciously thinking about the La Loba myth. However, upon reviewing my notes a couple of days later, I smiled in realization. The regenerative energy had propelled me from the cave, liberated, in a run that mirrored the transformation of bones into a wolf woman in the desert.
As I sat reflecting on this, the meaning of integrate—to restore—resonated deeply, not just as a thought but as a felt promise:
“I begin again.” ✨
Reflection question: Reflecting on the myth of La Loba and the act of collecting bones, what lost or forgotten parts of yourself might you need to gather and breathe life into again?
This week’s musical inspiration is one of my favorites:
Colleen, thank you so much for reading and for your kind and thoughtful comment! I loved hearing how the essay resonated so much with you. I smiled the whole time I read it. It sounds like we are on the same wavelength! I felt that reading your posts as well. ✨ I love that about the bird app, and I’m excited for you to read “Women Who Run With the Wolves.” It’s so good.
I’m looking forward to your next post! ☺️
I love this so much and the trails that it took you on. How beautiful that you were given that time alone as it was intended. I'm going to reflect on this as I think there is a prompt here for me. Thank you!