Vision Quest: An Experience of Direct Knowing

Vision Quest: An Experience of Direct Knowing

By Glenn Aparicio Parry, PhD

On my quest, I came to see every blade of grass, every plant, rock, tree, or insect as a teacher

There is a reason why vision quests are traditionally something that adolescents engage in as a rite of passage into adulthood; young people are clearly better able to withstand the physical demands. But, ultimately, a vision quest is not about suffering; it is about receiving a vision.

In my case, I received benefits even before my first [vision] quest began—from the moment I contemplated doing it. That night, I had multiple dreams of dying and being reborn into a new awareness, of connecting to ancestor spirits emerging from the ocean and floating through the air. I also began to hear differently, both in my dreams and in waking life. Common sounds—bird calls, branches swaying, leaves whispering—became more prominent. Spirit seemed to be telling me that it was all about listening. I could feel the muscles behind my ear twitching in anticipation, and I eventually realized that I was being prepared for something that my rational mind could not possibly understand.

When the time came, I set out on the quest, high in the mountains above Cloudcroft, NM. I selected and set up my space as I was instructed to do, drawing my circle with my prayer stick and placing four rocks at the four cardinal directions and my altar in the center. I had also brought sacred objects of my own, including sage, tobacco, bear, and eagle fetishes. I brought Tibetan bells and a singing bowl that I have used for years—or should I say for the ears—since they serve to awaken one to hearing increasingly subtle vibrations. I knew the bells would be important. I blessed the space with tobacco and said my early morning prayers, chanted, prayed more with the bells and singing bowl, and then sat down to listen to the sounds around me.

Almost immediately, I experienced an acute increase in my hearing that was rather astonishing. I heard ravens from a great distance speaking in their distinctive staccato voice—CAH CAH. When the ravens came closer, I heard them make guttural, rumbling sounds that I had never heard before. Then, a blue jay spoke in an even sharper tone, almost hawk like, and at a much higher pitch, JAAY, JAAY. The bird was far away but eventually came into my field of vision, and flew directly toward me, coming to rest about fifty yards away and remained silent for a time. It was then that he opened his wings, and I was surprised to hear the sound—and loudly. In fact, the sound of the wings was not “out there,” but in my body. I felt waves of electric vibration coursing through me, opening me to a frequency I did not know exist-ed. The jay then came up to me, sitting on the ground beside me, clearly acting as a welcoming ambassador. We exchanged something, but I cannot translate the language, at least not yet.