Exploring the frontiers of gay consciousness with ROBERTO BLAIN

Vision Quest Part III: The Pilgrimages

In this issue I continue with the story on my vision quest journey to and through the deserts of New Mexico. Recapping briefly for readers who may have missed earlier parts of the story: In the beginning of 2000, I left a film industry career to become an entrepreneur. Several years later, I had a series of foreboding death-and-illness dreams that quickly manifested in a mysterious physical ailment. If you believe just about every self-help author on the planet, everybody has a life calling and, reflecting back, I had been ignoring mine. As so often happens when we are not paying attention, God, the Fates, the Great Spirit, Allah, Universal Intelligence, my Higher Self, my conscience—whatever works for you—hit me with a course-correcting two-by-four. In order to regain my footing, I reluctantly embarked on a vision quest, intending to find healing, clarity, and a reconnection with my true purpose. With no precise destination in mind, I headed east and serendipitously ended up in a small, magical, Zen-like community called Embudo, halfway between Santa Fe and Taos, where my journey truly began. Virtually all the days of my visit were marked by delightful encounters and fresh insights, enfolding experiences both transformative and resonant. Today’s account deals with my two-pronged pilgrimage to the Monastery of Christ in the Desert in Abiquiu, N.M., and the Hanuman Temple in Taos.

Wikipedia describes “pilgrimage” as a journey to a sacred place or shrine of importance to a person’s beliefs. When it comes to religion, I am a bit of a renaissance man: I have avoided allegiance to any one set of beliefs, preferring to explore the wider field of world religions and spiritual traditions. (Like many people I know, I key more comfortably to the word “spiritual”; “religion” connotes dogma based on my mixed-bag Catholic upbringing.)

A week or so after I had settled in laid-back Embudo, I started feeling that I needed to kick up the adventure. One of the village’s inhabitants mentioned Christ in the Desert, and it sounded very intriguing. A spartan Benedictine Abbey located in the same region where legendary artist Georgia O’Keeffe made her home, it appealed to my Christian roots, so I excitedly packed a few duds and embarked on the several-hour trek to Rio Arriba (“River Above”) County. The trip was unforgettable. Although it involved traveling long distances over very rocky, rough roads, the majestic scenery along the meandering, serpentine Chama River was breathtaking, an ideal setting for the spiritual immersion I was seeking. Thankfully I had a Dodge Ram back then; it was much better suited for the terrain than my current, lighter (but enlightened!) Prius.

My arrival at the monastery was anti-climactic. A soft-spoken friendly monk greeted me and gave me an overview of daily practices that would curdle the blood of your average circuit queen. The regimen dated back to the third century via a lineage that includes the saints Antony, Pachomius, and Mary of Egypt; Basil and Macrina of Asia Minor; John Cassian of Gaul; and Benedictine and Scholastica of Italy, among many others. It included a healthy diet of prayer, fasting, silence, vigils, readings, and good works.

While I was glad to participate, it would prove to be culture shock. I’m Cuban, and if you’ve met enough of us, you know that our national pastime is debating and relating. At Christ in the Desert, the monks have a vow of silence; the simple vegetarian dinners were held in intense quiet and then it was back to your cell for contemplation. While partaking in the practices and observing the monks in their natural habitat was quite fascinating, I had no epiphanies and the experience started feeling very dry fairly quickly. I could not attune to this otherwise amazing holy place.

On Day Three, I went to bed and something strange happened. Virtually all night long a mantra filled my head: “Go to the Hanuman Temple.” One of the great things about desert sojourns is the amazing clarity the rarefied country airs generates; the channels become free of city-static and you can hear your inner voice. I awoke the next day, went straight to the greeter-monk and informed him that I was leaving four days early. He seemed surprised, inquired as to why, and I told him about my dream. If he felt slighted that I was shifting my allegiance to a comparatively exotic Eastern religion, he did not show it. He graciously bid me farewell and I was happily off. Please note that I do not regret having gone to the abbey for a minute. I recommend it to anyone wanting a rich spiritual experience in a seriously devoted and committed environment. It was not only a delicious road trip and rich cultural experience, it also provided a life lesson to be more discerning about the spiritual routes I choose or endeavors I choose to follow. That said, departing from the high gravitas of Christ in the Desert was a relief, and I charted my course to the Hanuman Temple in Taos to pay homage at the feet of the monkey-deity Lord Hanuman, one of the most powerful and popular Gods in the Hindu pantheon. I was headed north, the direction, in the tradition of Native American wise elders to ask the “Simian Symbol of Strength” to share some of his strength with me, that I might regain my own.

Taos is a small, quaint, artistic village in Northern New Mexico surrounded by beautiful hills. Inhabited since 3000 B.C. with ruins dating back to 900 A.D., for centuries it has been home to Native American Indians, conquistadors, mountain men, and artists. Several American devotees of Neem Karoli Baba founded the Hanuman Temple—also known as the Neem Karoli Baba Ashram—after his mahasamadhi (leaving the body) in 1973. The famous murti (holy statue) of Hanuman, a spectacular image carved in India and brought to America for installation in the temple, is purportedly one of the largest in the U.S.

I arrived at the temple in the evening, a bit tired and nervous about crashing this (strange to me) community of devotees. Located on property that was at one time a farm, the grounds of the ashram are beautifully maintained, creating a serene, comforting atmosphere. Upon my arrival I received a warm welcome and was invited to stay in the dharmasala, a housing unit for guests who have traveled from afar. When Guru Neem Karoli Baba was alive, one of his favorite expressions was “love everyone, serve everyone, remember God, and tell the truth.” I immediately felt at home in this place that was quite the polar opposite of Christ in the Desert. If you’ve ever seen a Bollywood movie, you know that color, ritual, music, chimes, incense, and laughter form the sensibility. The ashram did not disappoint. From the get go, I fell right in step with practices that included singing devotional chants, group worship and meditation, and holiday feasts. Much more in line with my Cuban esprit!

The days were punctuated by different kinds of devotions. Early in the morning we participated in arati, a ceremony in which the light from a small ghee lamp is offered to the deities and to the guru. In the evening a second arati was held. My days were spent opportunity praying, meditating, and performing seva (service) by helping to cook the communal meals in the large kitchen. It was a truly wonderful experience. While there were no dramatic visions or revelations, my time in the ashram was one of blessed community, healing, and transformation. After a few days I felt so centered that, for a brief New York minute, I allowed myself to indulge in a fleeting fantasy that I might become a “permanent” member of this colorful tribe. But that was not to be. After a few days, I knew it was time to return to Embudo for whatever fate had in store.

Roberto Blain is head of talent acquisition at USC, on the executive team of c3 transmedia, and a frequent collaborator with Dr. Don Kilhefner. Contact him at roberto@consciouscreativity.com.