Exploring Sedona’s Vortexes and Memories
There’s something magical about the concept of a vortex, a sort of swirling center of energy. People often talk about how it helps with healing, meditation, and, well, self-discovery. I was contemplating a trip to Sedona, thinking it might be a good way to mark the first anniversary of my husband’s passing. There’s this idea that sitting in a vortex could somehow spark mental clarity and promote emotional healing. At least, that’s what one so-called “Vortex Guide” suggested. It supposedly brings peace and harmony.
Some visitors describe their experiences in these vortexes as transformative—tingling skin, waves of pleasure. Honestly, I didn’t feel anything quite like that. What I did feel was a deep appreciation for the spectacular views from the Bell Rock Pathway Vortex. I witnessed one woman tear up, claiming to experience a “pure calm,” and a man who said he had visions of his late wife. It was a beautiful spot for reflection and soaking in the scenery, but oddly, none of that mystical experience hit me.
If you’ve spent any time in Arizona, you’ve likely made a trip to Sedona at least once. We Arizonans love to show off this gem to our friends and family. The iconic Red Rocks are actually ancient geological formations, shaped millions of years ago when iron minerals in ocean-layered sandstone oxidized. It’s basically an archaeological treasure.
Sedona has this unique, quirky vibe that’s hard to describe. It’s not just the stunning landscapes—there are fortune tellers, shamans, and even vortex guides around. This all adds to its “otherworldly” charm. You can check out the Holy Cross Chapel for a spiritual experience or take a Pink Jeep Tour for adrenaline. And of course, there are countless hiking trails to explore.
Years ago, my husband Doug and I decided to take a helicopter ride over Sedona. I’ll admit, it was terrifying. Our pilot wore a military uniform, with “Captain Wingwalker” emblazoned on his badge. I thought about backing out right then. But Doug, always the adventurer, encouraged me to go for it. “It’ll be fun!” he laughed, as we soared dangerously close to the cliffs. My nervous screams were completely drowned out by the roaring engine and Doug’s animated chatter with the pilot.
Sedona’s cultural landscape stretches back over a millennium. The region was once home to the Sinagua people, who thrived until around 1400 A.D. They left behind remarkable sites, like the Montezuma Castle National Monument. The town itself was named in 1902 after Sedona Schnebly, the wife of its first postmaster. With its rich heritage, Sedona feels like a national treasure right in our backyard.
While wandering through Oak Creek Canyon, I took a moment to scatter a small portion of Doug’s ashes. The wind carried them gently away, and, honestly, it felt surreal. For a fleeting second, I thought I heard his soft laughter—though it could have just been the sound of the breeze through the trees.
Sedona. There’s really no place quite like it. I guess you could say, no vortexes required.
