A Wolf in Sedona: A Mystical Journey to the Desert

By Donna Lycans

Travel with a group of mixed mystics to the American southwest, where destiny meets legend and the lines of reality begin to bend. A Wolf In Sedona captures your imagination, feeds your sense of adventure and intrigues your metaphysical mind with a mystery borne of legend, all the while surrounded by a glistening red rock desert of unsurpassed beauty under a sapphire sky.

Join a small band of travelers looking for magic in Sedona, Arizona. What they find is far more complicated and challenging to their psychic senses. Call upon the powers of the ancient ones and heed the old ways. Only then will you see through the veil of deception and discover who among them has a hidden agenda that threatens to defile a prophecy of peace. Remember to remember that things are not always what they seem, that free will is a wild card of human nature, and that the path each of us chooses is a direct reflection of the lives we have lived before.

Explore a metaphysical maze of magic and mayhem led by elders, shamen, healers, seers and psychic vampires. Alliances are forming among those drawn to coyotes and those drawn to wolves. A confrontation between chaos and order is inevitable.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 6, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477254677

Donna Lycans

Donna Lycans lives in her home state of Kentucky, where she earned dual Bachelor's Degrees in English and Fine Art. She is an Usui Reiki Master, a Master of Crystology in the Melody method and an Affiliate Member of TAOMCHI. Ongoing studies include Mayan cosmology, Medicine Wheel healing techniques and Amerindian culture.

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Copyright © 2012 by Donna L. Lycans. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including without limitation photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the express written consent of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in favorable articles and reviews.

ISBN: 978-1-4772-5468-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-5467-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012913984

Published by AuthorHouse: 9/20/12

To Order Online:

Go to

www.AWolfInSedona.com

or

www.AuthorHouse.com

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Although I have written a story in first person, this is a fictional novel. While my journey was originally inspired by real events, the characters here are quite fictitious and only loosely based on combinations of personalities I have met along the way. Any resemblance to real persons, living or beyond, is purely coincidental.

Contents

Chapter One The Gathering

A reunion of mystics

Chapter Two The Journey Begins

Our first day leads to our first vortex

Chapter Three Wolves and Coyotes Converge

The lines of reality begin to bend

Chapter Four Sacred Stones and Ceremony

Spells for protection

Chapter Five Ancient Lands

A wolf in the buffalo nation

Chapter Six Visions

Insights to past lives and present circumstances

Chapter Seven Water Ceremonies Bring Unity

Animal totems merge as new names are given

Chapter Eight Discord Returns

Wolves and coyotes make a final stand

Chapter Nine The Spell Is Broken

Peace returns to the desert

Epilogue

Dedication

For my uncle David Venneman,

who lived an exemplary life of loving kindness

and inspired all who knew him to do the same.

And for all of the wonderful wolves in my life,

with heartfelt thanks to the Wolfawe pack.

Acknowledgments

Special thanks to Gerald Fisher (Tankasila).

I am honored that you have allowed me to include The Calling

as a prelude to my story. I am truly grateful for your wisdom.

Thanks also to Melody, the crystal guru

who closed her class with an old saying that inspires me to

Love many, trust few, and always paddle your own canoe.

And one final note of thanks

to the makers of the Underworld series

for teaching people how to spell my last name.

Thank you.

The Calling

by Gerald Fisher

(Tankasila)

The fire is dancing tonight and the winds are talking

Dancers from past lives enter the circle

Leading me back and forth through the history of myself

The mind searches as the spirit dances

The drums...dancing to the heartbeat

Memories of long ago insights to the future

I hear the winds whispering my sweat lodge dreams

I see Sungmanitu tanka (the wolf) my guide

He shows me the ancestors, not mine

They are not Lakota, or Tsalagi, or Iroquois

But they are all Nations, one Nation

Speaking with wisdom to share with each other

Yesterdays create todays and promises of tomorrow

The lies will die with the smoke

And the whispers of the winds are clear and loud

And we shall all see the return of the buffalo

AHO

Chapter One

The Gathering

A reunion of mystics

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Warm winds wafted gently from the southwest.

Familiar faces gathered at the farthest gate in the airport.Only six months had passed since we first traveled together on a Caribbean cruise, though it seemed an eternity. So much has changed in such little time. Ready to embark on another adventure, I signed on to explore mystical Sedona, Arizona.

Only half of our original group of twenty-two were destined to merge paths once again, joined by eleven new faces. They were new to me, anyway; some were friends of my fellow travelers. Having journeyed with Psychic Travels before, I knew the tour group often attracted mystics and metaphysical practitioners. It remained to be seen whether the eleven new travelers shared in those pursuits.

We greeted each other with hugs and smiles, then randomly reminisced about last December’s incredible journey across the Caribbean Sea. Funny how no one seemed to recall any of the pitfalls from that tour, and no one even whispered Frank Wiley’s name, all of which were probably better left forgotten by most of us. After all, to begin a vacation with talk of a murderous mischief-maker could be a bad omen.

We remembered why we craved each other’s company and friendship. It was time to break away from the working world and seek inner peace among like-minded souls. It was not mere travel in this lifetime that connected us, but likely many travels through many lives in centuries past. I wondered about our kinship, how far in the distant past we began to merge paths and why. All I could say with certainty was that the time had come for another gathering.

Our assistant tour directors Ben and Sarah had returned, standing tall and smiling as they greeted new arrivals in the group. Sarah wore her straight blond hair long and unadorned, while Ben tied a thick lock of white hair into a ponytail. Both looked relaxed and ready to travel.

Ginger, our petite blond tour director, checked our names on her list as we settled in, trying to keep track of everyone without getting frazzled, much like herding cats. Todd, our other tour director, proved fashionably late as usual.

During a quiet moment, Ginger introduced us to her new friend and roommate Dorian, a plump middle-aged woman with olive skin and dark hair. She offered a warm endearing smile and seemed friendly.

Uri and Ella still glowed with honeymoon bliss. They radiated magic together, even after many lifetimes as husband and wife, though they did not meet in this life until just last year and joined in the second marriage for both. I watched them greet Ginger with a group bear hug and laughed when they almost fell down. Ella told us we would see Abby in Arizona, and although her husband Brian could not join us on this trip, he sent his love to all. Alex and Lori flew out of another airport with their friends Jamie and Ty. We would meet them all in Phoenix.

Helen emerged from the crowd with someone I did not know. New greetings were exchanged as she introduced her roommate on this trip, Carla.

Helen had recently changed her hair style to a broad red wisp outlining her face in an otherwise white coif. Her striking blue eyes blazed with a fiery sparkle and she wore a green outfit, as usual, this time in the form of a crinkled broom skirt and peasant top. In contrast, Carla stood taller than most of the women, except Sarah, with short brown hair and dark mischievous eyes. Dressed more casually in long tan shorts and a white short-sleeved shirt, she looked ready for the desert.

Donna, where’s Cathy? Helen asked me. Since you two became instant friends on the cruise, and I know you’ve kept in touch, I was sure you would be roommates again on this trip.

Well, that would’ve been nice, but she was unable to get away, I politely replied, remembering the enmity between them on the cruise.

So, who are you rooming with in Sedona? she pressed.

No one, actually, I have a single room, I answered.

No roommate, that’s interesting, she turned and walked away.

I had no idea why that was interesting to Helen or why she walked away after saying so. I thought she and I had made our peace months ago. While it is true that she and Cathy took an instant dislike to each other on the cruise, Helen’s distaste for me seemed temporary and lasted only as long as my association with Cathy. When we returned home to Chicago, I studied Reiki with Helen, and she eventually attuned me in all three levels of the healing hands methodology, so I puzzled over the reason behind this brusque behavior.

My last encounter with Helen took place at her house. While visiting her home to witness an attunement ceremony of new healers as part of my Reiki studies, I joined in with the group afterward to exchange healings. As I held my hands over the fractured ankle of a new healer, I felt something new and different that I had never experienced before. In the ethereal air between my hands and his ankle, extending downward beneath his skin, I felt the movement of thousands of microscopic jiggling cells jostling for position.

Helen caught the odd expression on my face while she healed the girl next to me, What is it, dear?

I’ve never felt Reiki on a cellular level before, I whispered in amazement, humbled by the occurrence.

Sam, how does your ankle feel to you? she questioned him.

Numb, he replied with pleasant surprise, I don’t feel a thing now, even though it had been bothering me all day.

Hmm, I don’t know, was all Helen said at the time. When I later asked to attend additional attunements, she turned me away saying she already had too many healers. Something was wrong, because you can never have too many healers, but what? I wished she had been happy for me, but she seemed to think I deserved some sort of comeuppance, as if I had exaggerated the healing just to show off. In truth, I was as surprised as anyone that it had happened at all.

Todd finally arrived, strolling by in long jeans and a white polo shirt, dressed more for the plane than Arizona. He brought with him a couple I had never met and introduced them as Bret and Tina. He seemed compelled to explain that they are not a couple, merely friendly roommates. I noticed they both wore wedding rings and wondered if they knew their deception was so transparent. Then I reminded myself to avoid passing judgment so swiftly. On the other hand, first impressions generally hold true.

I began counting days in my head. Thursday morning, three days before the full moon on Sunday. No wonder I felt high strung with anticipation. What could be better than a full moon in the vortex zone of Sedona, Arizona? I counted myself among those anxious to find out.

In the meantime, I greeted old friends, met new ones and prepared for a peaceful flight to the southwest. Or so I thought. Instead, soon after we boarded and the plane lifted off, my closed eyes entertained a slideshow of sorts, clipped images of events from the cruise. I watched Cathy’s glass tip over at the meet-and-greet, Leah fighting her healing and Frank’s lips curled back in a coyote snarl. I recalled the creepy paintings and haunted history of a hotel in Puerto Rico. Next, vertigo taunted me when I saw Cathy lean too far forward over a precipice in St. Thomas, then witnessed her jet ski going down off the shore of St. Maarten. Protected by an unseen force from multiple attacks, she never suffered a single scratch.

I heard a faint series of yips and a howl in the distance, recognizing that Frank is back somehow, but not in physical form this time. The last slide paused on an image of me and Frank in a confrontation on the ship during a midnight party. The faint form of a coyote snout and prickly ears emanated from Frank’s face, while the furry form of a gray wolf’s head replaced mine.

Enough. I opened my eyes. I get it.

I had heard that Frank pleaded insanity to the murder charges and was sentenced to life in an institution for the criminally insane. However, the only thing worse than a tortured psychic at large is an institutionalized psychic who has way too much time on his hands, an impenetrable alibi and a thirst for vengeance.

I puzzled over the possible scenarios of Frank’s return, knowing he sat safely locked away in Connecticut and could not appear here in physical form. Has his gift of telekinesis extended beyond geographical limitations? Has he mastered remote viewing or does he know how to appear in people’s dreams? What has Frank been doing for the past six months? Hopefully, he is not dabbling in the dark arts, but even if he is, what does that have to do with me?

Maybe it has nothing to do with me, but with Todd, I thought as I remembered what Ella had told me a few weeks ago during a chance encounter downtown.

Did you hear Todd’s interview on the radio last week? she asked me.

No, what did he talk about? I was curious.

Himself, mostly, she giggled, then surprisingly, he talked about Frank; how he intuited that Frank was a murderer after we all boarded the cruise ship and how he kept careful watch over this troubled soul for the duration of the cruise to keep the rest of us safe.

What?! I was shocked. Todd was oblivious to all of it. How could he take credit for something like that?

He shouldn’t, Ella agreed, but he did. He also said that it must have been the strength of his psychic powers that inadvertently led the police to Frank, and while he should feel satisfied to be called a hero for revealing a murderer, he felt that his life’s purpose would be better served healing Frank’s soul, so he has been visiting him at the institution toward that end.

What?! But he didn’t – I stammered. What a load of self-serving hype, I managed.

Yes, it is, Ella nodded. It begs the question of why Todd continues to associate himself with Frank at all.

And I would venture to guess it has nothing to do with healing, I posed.

Likely not. We hugged goodbye, and she shook her head slowly as she walked away that day.

My mind returned to the present and I considered my own recent training in healing. I had completed my Second and Third Degree Reiki attunements and became a Reiki Master just seven days before this gathering. As a result, I would experience the peak of my twenty-one-day attunement period during my stay in Sedona. I was told that the adjustment term for Third Degree will heighten perception and awareness to an extraordinary level, and the vortex energy is likely to amplify it even more, not to mention the power of the full moon for the wolf in me.

Perhaps it is not peace and quiet I seek out here after all, but rather a new path of consciousness or awareness. Our minds know many mysterious things that we seem to be only partially aware of at any given time. I try to listen to what I know is true, but sometimes I miss things.

I closed my eyes to be gifted with one more slide from the show, the brilliant flash of Cathy’s magical moonstone, her heirloom treasure and the bane of Frank’s existence for many centuries, his personal Holy Grail.

Myriad stones and crystals filled my inner vision to remind me of one other certification in the healing arts as a Master of Crystology. With the help and guidance of several different masters, as well as my own personal pursuits, I have learned to develop a kinship with the stone beings. Though I am sometimes subjected to a touch of ridicule for claiming to heal people with rocks, those who are open to receive and benefit from their healing touch are filled with gratitude for the blessing.

I recalled a toddler visiting my home with his mother, new friends I had just met. He fussed constantly, and she explained he was going through teething pains. Instinctively, I picked up a polished piece of green and white fluorite, just the right size for his little hand, but too big to fit in his mouth. With his mother’s permission, I gave it to him. To our surprise, he knew exactly what to do with it. He held the stone to his jaw, first one side and then the other, and smiled. Even when his little arm got tired of holding it up, he kept the stone in his left hand, his receiving hand, to continue feeling the healing. His mother told me later that as long as the stone remained within a few feet of him, his teething pain seemed minimal and he stopped fussing.

On another occasion, a friend brought her friend to my home for a healing. I sensed mild skepticism in her, but also the intention to keep an open mind. As the crystals guided my hands over and around her, I found myself drawn to a few trouble spots, both knees and her left arm, all of which were covered by clothing. I felt compelled to comb her aura several times with a crescent-shaped cluster of epidote and quartz, a procedure that is usually performed only once at the beginning of a healing. Afterward, she told me that she had started getting hormonal hot flashes three times, and each time they subsided almost instantly, something that had never happened to her before. When I asked about her knees and left arm, she rolled up her pant legs to show me surgical scars on both knees, then lifted her shirt sleeve to reveal a long cut that was slow to heal.

Through my studies and practice in both Reiki and crystology, I have gained a better understanding of intuition by simply allowing things to happen in their natural course and following my instincts along the way. A wise woman once told me that the easiest first step toward awakening your psychic senses is to simply stop believing in coincidence. All of my teachers agree that we are all born with the ability to be and do anything we choose. We do not need to know how it works to acknowledge that it does, just as we do not have to understand electricity to turn on a light.

After a long six months of training with my mentor, I can truly say it was worth every arduous minute of it. Unbeknownst to everyone else in my life, including my other teachers, I met a shaman soon after I returned home from the cruise. He is a lean man of average height with short black hair speckled with gray and dark brown eyes that see into the depths of the world. He calls himself Ox and is teaching me the old ways of metaphysics, healing and psychic self-defense. For six hours every Sunday, we practice skills on a level not of this world. Some are easy and some are extremely difficult. When I falter, he tells me the old Chinese proverb ‘the ox is slow, but the Earth is patient’ to keep me going at an even pace. We were both born in the Chinese year of the metal ox and need patience with the innate tendency to push ourselves too hard.

Contrary to the notion of a dumb ox stereotype, this man radiates an easygoing demeanor that belies advanced intelligence with quiet strength and power, a fascinating anomaly. We met at a gem and mineral show in early January, both admiring the same amethyst cave, a round phenomenon that resembles half of a carved out geode, much deeper than a cathedral and filled with purple points. I trusted him instantly, as if we had traveled many past lives together. He asked me if I studied the old ways and I said not as much as I would like, so he offered to teach me. When I asked him how much he charged, he said he would teach me for free as long as I committed to it for at least six months.

Why six months? I asked him.

Because then you will be ready, he replied.

Ready for what?

A challenge awaits you, he whispered mysteriously.

My spirit guides (some say guardian angels) wholeheartedly approved, so I said yes, six months ago.

In the beginning, Ox taught me to express gratitude for any message, gift or thought from Spirit by making customary offerings such as corn meal, tobacco or something personal like a strand of hair. We would spend time quietly meditating and calming the mind to be more receptive to my spirit guides, who were always there to whisper thoughts of encouragement and flashes of insight. When I grew comfortable with their presence in my daily life, we moved on to aura discipline. Ox showed me how to protect and strengthen my aura in times of stress and psychic bombardment so that I would not take all the troubles of the world to heart. He also showed me how to change the color of my aura to adapt to different circumstances.

His teaching method struck me as unusual at first, because he never introduced anything to me as new. After every lesson, he added, Remember? He would say, When you are in a crowded elevator full of negative people, draw in your aura tightly around your body until you are free of them, remember? or Use gray to shroud your appearance and silver to deflect the negative energy of a psychic attack or intrusion back to the sender like a mirror, remember? In this way, I learned that nothing is impossible because the ability to do anything already lies deep within all of us. We only have to remember where it is sleeping and call it up. Of course, having a good teacher who knows where to look is an added bonus.

By the third month I had learned to detect the intentions of others by viewing changes in their auras. Ox also taught me to ward off negativity using color and light in self-defense. Then we integrated these lessons into an automated response system in my psyche to the point where I would no longer have to think about defending myself by relying on the automatic mechanism. I practiced tirelessly between our Sunday sessions until I could summon each skill effortlessly. My perception of daily life improved dramatically as my third eye grew wider with every discovery.

One Sunday, we spent the entire day talking and walking through the woods instead of having our usual lessons indoors.

Why is there always red in my aura? I asked him.

First, he posed, why does it bother you?

I guess because red feels negative to me. It usually emerges when people are angry or upset, I answered honestly.

But red is also passion, remember?

I know, but I always feel like it’s something I need to improve on, I confessed.

There is a fire deep down inside of you, a fervor to fight for what is right, and with force if necessary. Some people may mistake this for inner turmoil or even rage, but that is not true. The truth is that you seek to right the wrongs of this world and you are often met with opposition, which motivates you even more, but may also lead to disappointment. This is your passion, the red in your aura.

Well, when you put it that way, red doesn’t sound so bad, I suppose, I grinned.

No color is bad, in and of itself, remember? Ox shook his finger and smiled.

I remember, I yielded. It’s what we choose to do with them that determines right or wrong.

Very good, he nodded.

We walked along a dirt path through a sunny opening in the tree cover and lingered to pinch some wild lavender leaves for a bountiful scent.

So is that my greatest flaw, an overactive passion to make things right?

He hesitated, so I knew that meant no.

If I may say you have a prominent flaw, it is that you always expect the people in your life to be the best they can be at all times, and you demand no less from yourself, but when they fall short, they resent that you know it, even if you never speak of it aloud. They may accuse you of having an attitude of superiority or reject you outright, but if you can manage this difficulty, I would not change a thing. I would say you are blessed with a very special gift that should be shared openly with everyone.

Why do people resist being the best they can be? I wanted to know.

Ask a thousand people and receive a thousand different answers, he shrugged. It is one of the great mysteries of the universe.

And what would be the short answer to that? I knew Ox well enough by now to know that he always had a short answer and a long answer.

Because it is hard, he grinned.

A close friend once told me that my standards are too high, I sighed, as she ended our friendship of nearly twenty years.

Did your standards change during that time? Ox was curious.

I would like to think my standards improve as I get older, and if they do, shouldn’t that make things better, not worse?

He nodded in understanding. Friends are important, but holding on to your values will strengthen your soul. It can be a lonely path at times.

In April, we practiced shapeshifting, the only skill he did not need to teach me. He learned that I already knew how to transform into a wolf at will because I had never unlearned it as a child. Born into a strong clan of wolves, my essential totem animal was never overcome by outside influences. He indulged me as if allowing me to take a break from the rigors of discipline, yet still managed to teach me better control over the urge to express either wolf or human, depending on circumstances.

Ox told me, On some level every day, all humans shift our energies to meet the daily challenges of life. We learn as children how to shift the expressions on our faces and convey the appropriate emotions for different conditions, to laugh when something is funny or to cry when something is sad, remember? He paused to let it sink in.

"Legends describe long ago ages when humans dwelled on a higher plane and achieved a lightness of being that transcended our physical world. We could readily assume the shapes of beasts to adopt their virtues and transform ourselves to fit the needs of the moment; others around us could see and recognize them. As the centuries passed, we became spellbound and grounded by our own physical world. Other dimensions were forgotten while we spent all of our time and