hilitehead

After having spent some time in Vail and on way back to my horse, I stumbled upon a note:

In April, my 12 year tale of Mongolian shaman cult turned wrong. The end and plea for a new start was invoked by slew of shameful public fainting spells. I never experienced such profound and deep deception from an individual whom I revered as my father, uncle and teacher. The spiritual falsehood I experienced was psychological rape.

Some time has passed and afforded me hindsight bias. My heart and mind were poisoned over time. Wholly consumed by the worst of all demon serpents, I was slowly depleted of vital life force, literal blood loss to the brink of fainting. Accelerated path to failing health. I first got involved with the fraudulent Mongolian so called shaman about two years ago, carefully baited by a close relative into his depraved consuming sex den. My recent traumatic experience with this demon serpent or psychological manipulation painted as “shaman training initiation” forced me to revaluate and uproot my notion of spirituality, faith, devotion and religious dogma. Although it was the most warped and tragic relationship experiences I have ever had, I know deep inside it all happened for a reason to teach me the things I needed to know in order to grow out of this phase that held me sabotage from authentically embodying my inner power.

The trauma was deep enough to have fully halted my 12 year belief system, faith and apprenticeship in Mongolian Shamanism. Once my womb was ripped to shreds then burned in the fire, I only sought to spiritually revive, to wash my soul of all the dogmatic impregnation away from the brewing tension of Denver’s petty artists social circle. I sought a conscious psychological rebirth, systemic disorganization as an antecedent to reorganization. I wanted to risk excursion towards the edges of unfamiliar experiencing, for the novelty and chaos of a new place to beget a new form of order. My desire to purify and realign enforced a need to spend time in the embrace of mother Earth which prompted my Summer in Vail.

In Vail, chaos came through the muted issues of race and broken labor infrastructure. For the workers, Vail acts as a Never Neverland getaway, a fashion of life for the forever winter bums. The town operates on a never ending cycle of seasonal workers from winter Gondola operators and ski instructors turned summer pool boys and servers. I was surprised to find out how understaffed, unprofessional and broken the resort economy is in Vail. What limited assortment of jobs available lure new hires through promises of exaggerated salaries that are never met. Don’t dupe the employees you intend to work with.

At best, Vail comes off with an egalitarian facade in the same sense that the 10th Mountain Ski Division was egalitarian. However, in truth the sundown town remain heavily segregated and increasingly tilted in their economics. Most notable is the cleavage between the rich and the poor – the slums of Vail; immigrant versus the environment in America’s eden. Vail is one of the ruling classes’ green utopia and the invisible, scorned immigrant labor that makes it all possible. Its hard for me to imagine how some people can “love” this place and live to abide by the apparent race and class divide. Afterall it is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.

Swept by the romantic notion of mountains, naive me to have imagined Vail to replicate my soul reviving summer at Shambhala Mountain Center circa 2015. That was a Buddhist retreat and this was a labor camp. I’ve learned you cant expect much from a small mountain valley but I do thank Vail for fueling my spirit of civic activism – energy I intend to recycle and utilize to birth new effective social justice projects / continue ongoing civic engagement projects for the marginalized communities in Colorado and abroad. Strangely, I am finding my individual identity enhanced and empowered in rejecting the forces of the larger racist community.

Vail reminded me that I do best in contrast. One could be born again through contrast. Although uncomfortable, when in motion of perpetual rejection/disapproval and displacement in an environment – one has no choice but to exercise and redefine their values and morals to find themselves again stronger than before. I inherited every rejected experience as spiritual practice. By placing myself in new unfamiliar repetitive action, it enabled me to experience a meditative state of emptying myself. The experience was not all bad, especially when I had nature as my solace and the beautiful mountainscapes as backyard upon waking. There were also some good public art scatterted throghout town.

I am so glad to be back and recharged until next actual meditation excursion in September.

 

Love,

ET