Free Archangel of Sedona by Tony Peluso Page A

Winslow.
    When it’s 95 degrees in Tampa with 90% humidity, you can still do things outside, though you may not want to. When it’s 110 degrees in the high desert, you better watch your ass, wear a hat, hydrate, or—better yet—stay inside and drink Margaritas, but don’t drive.
    After the zip-lines, I took Gretchen to the Page Springs Cellars near Cornville, a small community south of Sedona, along the lower Oak Creek. The winery sits in a beautiful narrow valley, surrounded by acres of cultivated vines along the hillsides, old cottonwoods, elms, maples, and willows. It’s a gorgeous venue that’s competing in national markets with fine wine made of Arizona grapes.
    Famished, we inhaled a pleasant lunch. Gretchen had a robust cabernet. The ambience and fare at the winery were superb. It was the perfect cap to a great mini-adventure. At lunch, I told Gretchen that I had a surprise for her.
    “What might that be?” Gretchen wondered.
    “I booked you the whole afternoon and evening at the spa at L’Auberge,” I said.
    “That’s mighty generous. Why didn’t you ask me first?”
    “Don’t you want to be pampered like a goddess by the spa staff?”
    “Sure. But what are you up to? Where will you be? I don’t see Mister Macho Paratrooper getting a pedicure.”
    “True. But you deserve a little pampering. I thought you would like this surprise.”
    “Oh, I do. But I don’t trust you. I think this is a cynical ploy to distract me, while you go searching for the Christus.”
    “Is it working?” I asked.
    Gretchen looked at me for a long moment, her face a stern masque. After a moment, she allowed her lips to form a slight smile.
    “Yes, it is. When does the pampering begin?”
    “In about twenty minutes. We have time to pay the check and get back to L’Auberge.”
    “OK, Tony. Let’s go. If the aliens don’t get you and you meet me after the spa, I might show you the other lingerie.”
    “Other?”
    “Yep.”
    “Like what?”
    “Don’t be late and you’ll see.”
    “Powerful incentive to be punctual.”
    While Gretchen experienced the best the L’Auberge spa could offer, I continued my quest by visiting the Center for New Age in Sedona. It’s an interesting place where one can get exposure to the full spectrum of New Age philosophy.
    New Age thinking is a big tent. It accommodates a variety of intellectual disciplines and religious beliefs. Whether you’re a Wiccan, Muslim, Christian, LDS, Jew, Jain, Hindu, Buddhist, Shinto, Druid, Pagan, or whatever, there is something for you at the Center,
    After an hour at the store, I passed on a psychic reading by a Reiki master. Reiki involves maximizing spiritual life forces to attain contentment and good health. I’m not sure what a Reiki master does, but I didn’t want to know the gritty details of my future. Ignorance of one’s fate is bliss.
    I had the opportunity to book a UFO and vortex tour, but decided against a field trip. Thanks to Gretchen’s offer, I had something much better planned for later that evening. Besides, I’d had my own intense encounter with a UFO decades earlier. It occurred without the benefit of the New Age guidance. I figured that if the intelligence that operated the lights in 1966 wanted to contact me—and it had the technology to overcome Einstein’s theory regarding light speed—it would know how to find my e-mail address. If people who want to help me grow a larger penis can find that address so often, advanced beings could Google it. Maybe they’d use Bing or Yahoo.
    I spent time at the Sedona Crystal Vortex and Ye Olde UFO stores. Same result.
    I noticed one interesting thing. All of the stores that I visited that catered to New Age thinking included medals, statutes, paintings, illustrations, or literature about angels.
    I’m not an expert on angels, but I am Jesuit trained. I’ve always considered the concept of angels to be fascinating. I bought into the notion, as evidenced by the large gold St.