Gila Cliff Dwellings

      In 1994, I took a trip across the US. It was my "mid-life crisis" road trip.
      At the time, I was beginning to really open up to the psychic in me. I knew my Spirit Guides, and had been working with pastlife memories, though I had yet to be formally regressed.
      As I was homeward bound, coming across Texas, I decided I would go to Roswell, NM, "to see a UFO", I joked.
      I got into Carlsbad, NM, around 6PM on a Monday, after 13 hours of driving from Houston. I still had 80 or so miles to go for Roswell.
      For some reason, as I drove through Roswell heading north, the closer to the north end of town I got, the worse the traffic got. This was very surprising to me, for such a small, remote town. By the time I got almost to the northside city limits, the traffic was almost stopped.
      About halfway through Carlsbad I had also begun to get what I refer to as a headache, but it isn't really. It is more of a pressure/tingle sensation that covers the front-top of my head. It feels like someone is ever so slightly lifting my front scalp and buzzing it. I am very familiar with this sensation... It is how my Guides get my attention and let me know there is something I need to deal with.
      And this time they were running jackhammers on me! By the time I got out of the city limits, it felt like the front of top of my head was touching the ceiling of the motorhome.
      That's when I finally turned around and headed back into Carlsbad to spend the night, canceling my designs on Roswell.
      I found an RV park and stopped for the night. I did go outside and watch for awhile, but didn't see any UFOs.
      Not being sure what the "gang" wanted of me, I decided they might have in mind that I visit Carlsbad Caverns again, so the next morning I drove over and took the tour.
      When I finished the tour through the Caverns, I had noted nothing of significance - finding significance is something I have come to expect when the "Gang" gets involved.
      I began driving out of the park. Before getting back to the highway, I thought again that I would head for Roswell, and again, BANG! The top of my head went crazy again, and they were back in full force!!!
      So I pulled off the side of the road and got out the map. I told them, "Okay, you don't want me going to Roswell. You didn't want me to go back through the Caverns, you just didn't want me going to Roswell", at which point the pressure eased a tiny bit.
      With the map open, I said, "Okay, if not Roswell, where?" And I scanned the map for something else I might care to see.
      From the corner of my eye, I caught a gold flash on the map.
      Looking closer, I found Gila Cliff Dwellings National Monument, northwest of Las Cruces.
      I thought, "That's neat. Maybe I'll file that away for future reference. Maybe Judi, Bobby and I can visit it next year when they come out west." A couple of weeks before, my sister and her husband had talked about how they would like to make a trip out west the next year to do some photography and get inspiration for Judi's leather carvings.
      After awhile of looking at the map some more, I only saw repeated flashes at Gila.
      Finally, I accepted that was where they wanted me to go.
      The route I had to take was the same road I would take for half of the trip to Roswell, before I would turn west.
      As I pulled out and went along that highway, I had no repeat of the night before.
      As I approached the intersection at Artesia, NM, where I would turn west, I thought for a flash of going straight, and got a twinge - like someone had rapped me on the head with a knuckle.
      Anyway, I turned and headed for the monument.
      By mid afternoon, I was pulling off the main road and heading into the park. Little did I know what lay ahead!
      The road into the monument runs along the crest of a mountain range for 15 or so miles. It is about 1 1/2 lanes in most places, with no guardrails and shear drops on one of both sides.
      I was not doing too well driving this. As I mentioned, I have a thing about heights.
      My eyes were glued to the centerline 50 or so feet in front of the motorhome.
      I was grateful no other vehicles came along.
      The thought crossed my mind, as I drove, "My being here has GOT to have something to do with the fear of heights... At least, I hope so, to make this part of the trip worth it!"
      I did manage to get to the RV park at Hot Springs, and get settled in. And it only took three walks around the park to relax enough to eat some dinner.
      The next morning I went into the shower. Immediately, I had the sense that I knew that water! I have images of walking a few miles through the mountains periodically in family groups to go soak in the springs. I later found out it came from the hot springs.
      I packed up and headed to the Dwellings.


      At the park office is a small museum and the first stop of a self-guided walking tour of the dwellings.
      The pamphlet for the tour explains things along a numbered route.
      As I followed the pamphlet instructions, I kept having a sense that the whole layout was perfect for the area. One walks up a ravine along the floor, then cuts back along the face of the cliff to get into the dwellings. Walking along the floor of the ravine means that you are walking below any defenders, and they can look down on you.
      Once I got into the dwellings, most of it felt familiar, except the color of the soot-marked ceilings... they seemed darker, sootier, than it seemed they should have been.
      Then, about halfway through the tour, you are expected to climb down a 15-foot (5m) ladder to a lower level. BOY, did that get me!
      As I stepped away from the foot of the ladder and continue, something attracted my attention back up to the ledge from which I had just descended.
      There was no one else around, but my attention was focused on a small Indian boy, standing there, his eyes full of terror and his hand shoved into his open mouth. To his side stood an even younger girl.
      And I was there, near the lip of the ledge, falling backwards facing up, watching his face, until I hit the lower ledge where I was now standing. I landed on my back, my head snapping back against the rock of the ledge. I could feel the back of my head crack, my skull split open and spread somewhat on the rock. Then I felt myself rise out of the body and hover, looking down at my body, which was that of a 6 or 7 year-old Indian male.
      Shortly, the spirit, I, floated off and up the face of the cliff into and through some trees into a whitish cloud with a bright light shining through it. I passed into the cloud and light, and the vision disappeared, leaving me standing on the lower ledge, stunned.
      I realized almost instantly that I had just experienced my own death from a life there at the dwellings some 800 years ago.
      I recognized the spirit of the boy from the ledge as that of my best friend, Doug, when I was growing up. And the girl beside him, I believe, was either my sister or his in that life, and is someone whom I just re-met recently.
      As I stood there, just beginning to think clearly again, I heard a voice from behind my right shoulder, saying, "That was then. THIS is NOW."
      Since I knew there was no one else around, I knew this was one of my guides, Gaby, speaking, though he very seldom speaks.
      And at that moment, I realized I had no current reason to fear heights.
      I finished the walk along the narrow exit ledge on cliff face, looking out and around at the ravine and the far wall, and down at the creek running through the trees. And I realized the beauty of the surroundings, and what I had been fearing to see.
      I got back to the RV, drove out of the park to the main road. Along the way I look around and saw the valleys and trees and beauty of the crest road, knowing I had walked that crest with my family to go to the hot springs in the crisp winter morning air, craving the warmth of the water, so long ago. And, of course, I would recognize that water.
      I was astounded when I got back to the main road, because I had drive right past the campground without even seeing it... The trip out seems like three miles, whereas the trip in had seemed like 50!
      To this day, I have not had a problem with ordinary heights again. I have even been on other cliff ledges, and the fear has not returned...
      Yes, my Guides did have something better for me than going off to see "some old UFO".
      And I'm happy they did!