By the time we're high out of Phoenix, there was silver snow falling on the tall saguaro like San Anselmo. And snowballs flying in the median of the interstate.
Sedona was the southern direction of my medicine wheel—where gods created out of sandstone tend to stick around for 300 million years before taking flight.
Then we drove as far north as we could. Grand Canyon stopped us. From there you can see through space and time and temple like the Atman you are.
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