Facing an angry El Morro

On my wanderings through New Mexico, I was thrilled to find free campsites (with water and bathrooms too!) could be had at the El Morro National Monument.

Even better, straight from camp you could hike up to the top of El Morro and view what was left of ancient Native American pueblos left by the Puebloans in the late 1200s.

El Morro is also known for its “Inscription Wall” (fancy wording for graffiti, in other words) where you can read over 2,000 signatures and notations carved into the wall, some over several thousand years old.

Very few of the “inscriptions” were art from ancient Puebloans, the rest of them were the common kind we still see today in the form of so and so was here with a name and date scratched out.

As soon as I settled in at camp, I made a beeline over to El Morro for a hike to the top. On the way, I stopped at the Inscription Wall to view some of the autographs scratched in.

You can definitely feel a sense of history there — it was mind boggling to stand in the very spot a fellow human from several thousand years ago stood to carve his immortality onto a rock wall.

As I walked along the wall, I started feeling bad inside, like a negative pressure that was making me queasy and weak.

Halfway through, I had to back out and leave.

As I made my way back to camp, the pressure eased and I felt a bit better. I still felt something within that didn’t sit right with me. Usually I can figure it out but not this time. It felt intangible and from an outside source.

I had this strong sensation to meditate to get answers. I sat under a tree facing El Morro, deepened my breathing and closed my eyes.

I found myself enveloped in anger.

Giant, overwhelming anger.

Bewildered, I dug into it and abruptly found myself face to face with the energy of El Morro itself.

As a natural intuitive and empath, I’m not surprised when I come across all sorts of energies and dead people, but I’ve never faced the energy of a… well, huge rock.

I’ve always thought huge rocks, canyons, etc. were ancient and passive giants, but not this one.

(El Morro itself is not that old compared to its brothers and sisters across the continent, so its energy did not feel ancient — it felt young and brash like a Greek God.)

After being startled by the source of the anger, I took a moment to collect my own wits. My first thought was can I really talk with a rock? It seemed absurd.

I swallowed my pride and reached out, asking where all the anger was coming from.

(Intuitive messages come through primarily via feelings, visions, and empathy which I “transliterate” into our language.)

El Morro silently roared back that his space has always been sacred and he’d been desecrated over thousands of years with scars on his surface. And “you humans” had the audacity to turn his defacings into a National Monument honoring them!

I was baffled this huge rock had an issue with little scratches on his surface. Aren’t they impervious to this sort of seemingly minor thing?

El Morro played on my empathy and showed how I’d feel if strangers carved their initials into my skin over the course of my life.

Point made.

I offered my deepest apologies.

His energy calmed down and I felt pressure of his anger recede a bit.

And that was it, we were done.

I strolled back over to El Morro and although I could still feel an imperceptible anger, I no longer felt nauseous and was able to explore further.

Later that night, I had an incredibly beautiful lucid dream with El Morro unlike any I’ve had. That’s another story for another day.

Today as I think back to it all, it still feels implausible and crazy.

Maybe I am off my rock-er (lame pun intended). All I know is nothing is truly out of the ordinary when it comes to the Beyond.

Who knew rocks had feelings, too?