I had made plans to meet a friend and member of my tribe later that morning, but being the early riser I am, I had a few hours before she would arrive from Phoenix. After showering and packing up my car, I made my way to Boynton Canyon in search of my first vortex.

A short hike from the parking lot led me into the desert, up into the red, vibrant rocks. On the ascent I noticed a pair of cairns on the natural shelf created by the striated rock. I thought back to the cairn grove at Yosemite National Park, and reminded myself to build my own desert cairn on the way back down.

As I approached the knoll where the vortex was supposedly located, my doubts about this mystical phenomenon dissipated. My hands began to lightly buzz, subtle pulses I had not noticed just moments before. I walked around the knoll and paused to sit and enjoy the view. I could feel the energy intensely, electricity running through every part of my body that made contact with the earth - my feet through my hiking boots, my back leaning against the rock. 

My hair was beginning to dry from the morning's shower, and I noticed later that my curls took on a more tight, corkscrew appearance than usual. Just like the juniper trees nearby that grew far more twisted than I had witnessed at the Grand Canyon, my hair appeared to be under the influence of the vortex's energy.

While I spent the first hour in solitude, other hikers began to join me as the morning progressed. As a few others appeared in search of the same mystery that I could feel through my bones, I decided to head back down to my car. On the way back, I noticed a few flat, small rocks - perfect for building my family cairn. I left our sculpture in the hot sun, the knoll where I had felt the Earth's energy in the background, the buzzing in my body beginning to quiet as I moved farther from the vortex with every step.

Sedona is home to a contextual building conceived by a student of Frank Lloyd Wright - the Chapel of the Holy Cross. Since I had loved the Wayfarer's Chapel in LA (designed by Frank Lloyd Wright himself), I decided to make a stop to see this one. The two chapels are equally integrated into their context, intimately responding to each place, and yet they feel completely unique from each other. Looking up upon the approach, the Sedona chapel's rich, warm concrete form rises from the rock, appearing as natural an addition to the landscape as the red rocks themselves. 

After a short but steep walk from the parking lot, I followed the winding ramp upwards toward the chapel grounds. The bright, mid-morning sun deepened the rich colors all around me - quintessential Sedona in hue.

The interior was sparse, and while I felt more inspired by the nondenominational nature of the Wayfarer's Chapel, the view to the valley below through was powerful. The cross embedded into the glass facade faded away, with the natural world beyond dominating the view.

Somehow I still had about an hour before meeting up with my friend at Cathedral Rock. I headed to Bell Rock, the site of another vortex, not far from the chapel. The tiny parking lot was full, and with no roadside parking nearby, I parked at the lot across the highway and dashed across to the Bell Rock trailhead. 

This was a much busier destination than Boynton Canyon had been earlier that morning. The hike was easy, a gradual incline leading up to the expansive flat base of Bell Rock. I wouldn't have time to hike onto the rock, and while there was a faint buzzing in the air even here, it was nothing compared to the knoll at Boynton. Perhaps the vortex could be felt more profoundly further up the rock, but I would have to wait for another visit to experience it for myself. 

Back in my car, I headed to Cathedral Rock, where I was met again by overflowing parking lots. The sun was high overhead, and I unpacked my camelback and found my friend at the trailhead. We began to climb, literally scrambling up hot rock with sometimes unstable footing. At times the "trail" was so vertical I worried about how we would make it safely back down. The natural vibrancy of the rock appeared to deepen the hue of our red hair, as if Sedona is the place where all redheads feel most at home. And then, we arrived at the top, rewarded with shade, a breeze, and a spectacular view of the valley.

While we sat and rested, we heard the echoing song of a pan flute - the only thing that could possibly have made the moment even more perfect. When thinking of all Sedona stereotypes - a hippy town that would put my hometown of Amherst, Massachusetts to shame - the rocks, view, and pan flute confirmed them all. 

The descent was relatively quick, though scary at times, and we made our way into town for a delicious vegan, gluten free lunch at ChocolaTree. A breeze gently blew through the peaceful, homey patio, and we browsed crystals and jewelry in the gift shop after our meal. I couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day, with better company, or a tastier meal to top it off. The healing energy of Sedona had worked its magic throughout the day - I felt healthy, inspired and filled with gratitude. With a full heart, mind and belly, I hugged my friend goodbye and continued onward towards New Mexico.