Free Archangel of Sedona by Tony Peluso Page B

Michael’s medal that I wear 24/7. With apologies to American Express, I never leave home without it. I never do anything without that medal around my neck.
    You may have a different spin on the concept of angels, but within the confines of my obsession to find the Christus, here’s how I saw it. An angel is a celestial being, imbued with preternatural knowledge. In other words, they’re actual beings of unknown composition and morphology that are far smarter and far more advanced than humans.
    Angels are not divine. They are not gods or demi-gods. Bible references claim that God created angels. He uses them as messengers and servants. In certain cases, they act as protectors and guardians. Angels come in several different classes or ranks, like Seraphim and Cherubim. There are at least eight other groupings that I can’t pronounce.
    In the past, these superior beings had a civil war. The vanquished, fallen angels found themselves disenfranchised and tossed out of Paradise by the likes of my personal hero, Michael the Archangel. The leader of the bad angels is Satan, a/k/a Lucifer, a/k/a the Devil. His followers are demons.
    Fallen angels have a perpetual case of the ass. They lost the war.
    Demons try to undermine God’s plan. They’re doomed to failure, but they are all about the journey. Besides, they have nothing else to do. They’re condemned to suffer for eternity. If they can take some humans with them into the abyss, they get bonus points. These points have no value.
    It’s like playing games at Chucky Cheese until the end of time, except for the pain and torment. On further thought, Hell must be a lot like an afternoon with 60 cranky five-year-olds at Chucky Cheese.
    While driving from the Center for New Age, it struck me that the Chapel of the Holy Cross gift shop had some of the same statutes and paraphernalia depicting St. Michael that were available at the Center. I found comfort, knowing that my belief system had widespread acceptance by so broad a constituency, at least for retail purposes.
    I got back to L’Auberge in time to meet Gretchen. The spa experience had been so soothing and fulfilling that after being massaged, washed, wrapped, and waxed into submission, she fell asleep while I showered. She slept like baby through the night.
    The next morning, August 23 rd , as part of our Sedona Adventure, we got up early to hike the Broken Arrow Trail. This trail begins about a mile south of Uptown Sedona.
    Sedona is too small, even today, to have a downtown. They have to call the main tourist area something, ergo: Uptown Sedona.
    From the east end of Morgan Road, the trail winds south through a narrow valley between the Mogollon Rim and a couple of high, magnificent, crimson sandstone structures known as the Twin Buttes. About a half-mile from the trailhead, you encounter an ancient sinkhole called the Devil’s Dining Room.
    I don’t know why the locals named this place the Devil’s Dining Room. I asked a few experts and got different answers. It’s like asking 12 Brits what Boxing Day is. Other than the 26 th of December, you’ll get a dozen different reasons why the Commonwealth celebrates the day after Christmas as a holiday. Same for the Devil’s Dining Room.
    I’ll note that the Devil had a dining room in Sedona, a kitchen across the valley near Soldier’s Pass, and a bridge on the other side of Capitol Butte. This part of the Verde Valley was sacred to the Native American inhabitants. To compete with the Holy Spirit, the Devil must have been very active here.
    When Gretchen and I got to the Devil’s Dining Room, my smug demeanor evaporated. I had a powerful feeling of déjà vu, though I’m certain that I’d never been to this geological feature. My arms broke out in goose bumps and a cold chill made me shiver in the 80-degree morning air.
    “Tony, what’s the matter?” Gretchen asked.
    “I don’t know,” I said as I wiped my forehead. I was sweating and shivering at the same time.