Santé Fe, New Mexico was a place I loved visiting. I was particularly fond of the Sanctuary de Chimayo. A little church, famous for its holy dirt. I couldn’t wait to get some dirt. I bought my container from the cleverly located nearby gift shop, and waited for my turn. The moment came, I kneeled at the little dirt hole and filled my container. All of a sudden I had this overwhelming feeling that I could ask God, or the Goddess in charge, for anything I desired and it would be given. In that same instant I realized that I was so filled with spirit, that there was nothing to ask for, nothing that I lacked. I loved that feeling and tried to recreate it daily. I wanted an unwavering connection to spirit, and that feeling of wholeness. Of course I failed. There’s not enough holy dirt in the world to alter my human condition. If my faith and connection never wavered, I wouldn’t try to reach for the stars. I visited the sanctuary seven more times, even though I had seen the truck delivering the magical, ever replenishing holy dirt. The sanctuary is my reminder of the ever changing journey of faith.