One night, a couple months or so ago, as I was beginning to fall asleep, an unbidden image of an elephant faded into my mind and, the realization that it was Ganesha was enough to pop me out of my hypnagogic state into full wakefulness. Instantly I was compelled to pick up my phone to google if there were any Temples dedicated to Ganesha in my area.
I don't know if I were more surprised by the fact I had never thought of doing this before, or the fact that there actually were a number of temples in my area. But, the biggest surprise of all was that I was only two days away from the day generally celebrated as his birthday. As such, there were quite a few events in these temples, so I chose one that felt the most user friendly to me and began plans to attend.
Right away I began to feel a little nervous. This was partially from the anticipation of feeling out of place at an event so foreign to anything I'd ever experienced, but mostly because I didn't know if I really belonged there. Though I count myself amongst the devotees of, and have personally worked extensively with, the elephant-headed deity, I am not Hindu. I do not know the protocols or etiquette for Hindu rituals and ceremonies, and I wanted to respect these people, their beliefs, and their worship. These ceremonies and celebrations are time-worn traditions that are the direct line for these people to their god. They are not a spectator sport, a performance for someone else's entertainment, or a museum display to be observed. The last thing I wanted to do was offend or belittle someone's worship or faith by including myself somewhere that wasn't appropriate.
Still, Ganesha had come to me. I felt a certain compulsion to follow through by honoring that meeting in some way, and if that way included uncomfortably attending an unfamiliar ceremony, then so be it.
As it turns out, another option offered itself up the next day. Somehow, out of nowhere, an event popped up on my social media feed: The Washington Ganesh Festival 2025 - A three-day celebration at a local park open to the public, with ceremonies and speakers scheduled throughout the weekend. I still felt a little self-conscious, being one of the few white folks there, but at least I knew I was welcome, and that I could learn from quiet observation without needing to "fit in."
And it was spectacular! The pageantry, the colors, the sounds of the processions, the drumming and dancing that began the evening was incredible. Yet nothing compared to the childlike anticipation of watching the curtains slowly part to finally reveal the breathtaking 15-foot Ganesha Statue in all its glory, that would now become the center of attention for the duration of the evening.

And thus began what I came to realize was the main point of this whole experience - my very first darshana. "Darshana" comes from a Sanscrit word meaning "to see or view," and in this context is the experience of meeting a deity eye to eye in physical space - seeing and being seen. This was exactly the encounter for which Ganesha had submitted his personal invitation to me just mere days earlier.
There are no words for what happened next or for how I felt. Standing in silent awe before this towering effigy, I felt his presence not only emanating from the statue, but pervading the space around me and within me. I felt safe. I felt held. I felt seen.
Completing this rendezvous, I stopped on my way out at this little table upon which was some kind of food that I'd watched others have gently placed in their hands with spoons. Some of them walked away carrying it in their cupped hand, while others ate it from their cupped hands on the spot. I was one of the former. In fact, I had an extra little pill container in my car into which I slid it, and the bottle containing whatever it is, is now sitting on my altar in front of my Ganesha statue.
As great as this story may be on its own, it is but a prelude to something much bigger. For many years I've been feeling called to travel to Mongolia, to meet and learn from the reindeer shamans there - A trip that got sidelined the first time at the last minute by a blood clot, but is still actively being planned. At the time that I started planning for Mongolia it seemed like it was a one-and-done, isolated adventure. Since then, however, there have been other places, other pilgrimages that have started calling me, either by intuition or by personal request of my guides, mostly in the states but, like Mongolia, abroad as well.
At the tail end of the pandemic, with guidance from White Buffalo Calf Woman (which lasted for months before I actually followed it), I embarked upon a beautifully spectacular pilgrimage to Bear Lodge (aka Devil's Tower), a trip that deserves its own post ...or two, so I won't go into too much detail here. Suffice it to say that every moment of that trip was magickal, and the feeling of elation that enveloped me as I physically sat on the earth, pushing my fingers into the soil of this sacred grove of trees, streaming with ribbons and prayer ties of more colors than a rainbow contains, on this hallowed ground where White Buffalo Calf Woman first physically stood and gave the first Chanupa, the Sacred Pipe, to the Lakota people, caused me to weep.
That was only the trial run for what is to come - what I am calling The Magnificent Pilgrimage. Or perhaps that was the overture, the beginning and ending point of carrying my pipe and its medlcine to different places, connecting to the spirits of that particular land, and doing ceremony with them. I actually created a vision board for it:
Some of the faces are fuzzed out because they are spiritual friends I intend to visit on my way, but I don’t have their permission to post their images.
Back to the Ganesh Festival, I realized as I walked around the grounds that this was it. With all the synchronicities and intuitive actions involved, The Magnificent Pilgrimage had officially started. Part of this realization came from a tradition that, before you start a big project - writing a book, traveling, etc - you call on Ganesha first, to bless the journey (whether physical or otherwise), protect the wayfarers on this journey, and to clear the path for the highest possible outcome of this journey. Even though it was He who called me and not the other way around, I had to recognize the significant of this moment, and though the self-doubt and apprehension began to rise, I had to say to myself, “Ready or not, here we go!”





