But is it a real sign?

My piercing scream brings him running. He finds me half in the closet, pointing intently at the floor.  He looks to where my finger leads, and then his eyes return to mine as if to say "don't move" before he races back to the kitchen to retrieve a gathering device.

I watched speechless as he rodeos the small lobster on the floor into the plastic cup with a rolled up magazine. I can't imagine why there was a live lobster on the floor, so small, so far from the ocean.  After all, this is Sedona...4500 feet above sea level, hundreds of miles from any ocean, let alone the ocean where lobsters might thrive. My man remains cool as the lobster bounces around inside the plastic cup with the magazine clamped tightly over the top.  I begin to straighten myself up, retreat the closet, pull my brain out of my adrenaline laced fear as he relocates the critter to the wilds of our front patio.

"What was that? It looked like a lobster..." I ask him.

"Lobster??" he repeats with a smile. "Bren, that was a scorpion."

Scorpion? As in SCORPION?!?  My mind vacates and the adrenaline races back. I am barefoot. He is barefoot.  Why didn't the rental agreement mention scorpions?  Why has NO ONE mentioned scorpions?  Doesn't a scorpion sting kill you?  Wasn't that why all the cowboys checked their boots?

My mind races along on scorpion highway...I haven't checked my boots once or my sneakers, for that matter.  At night, for lack of a chair or other valet type device, I have been leaving my robe on the floor.  I have been barefoot for most of the time.  Why has there been no scorpion advisement?  On hikes, I watch for rattle snakes (sort of), but scorpions have been of no concern to me. In fact, the shaman I have spent time with on three occasions, has not shown any concern either.

I carefully walk towards the place I have been leaving my shoes and check them all. No scorpions.  I shake my slippers out and then tentatively slip them on. Pete smiles at me, but he has that tightness along his jaw line.  We are both introspective and I instantly crave information.  I settle on the sofa, pick up my iPad and immerse myself in scorpion facts.  The searches for scorpions in Sedona lead to nothing useful, so I try Phoenix. Bingo. Scorpion data fills my screen. Striped scorpions, Bark scorpions, scorpion stings, scorpion lore.  Bark scorpions are by far the worst, but even a Bark scorpion won't kill a healthy adult.  The sting may swell; numbness and extreme pain seem common.  I read countless accounts of scorpion stings. I look at sting photos.  I look at page after page of amateur scorpion photos. The scorpion on the floor was not a Bark scorpion, but I am unsure of what kind it was.  Apparently, it was less poisonous than a Bark scorpion; I learn that the larger the front claws and the smaller the tail, the less venomous the scorpion. I recite my freshly obtained scorpion facts to Pete in an endless monologue as the hour passes; finally Pete is prompted to start an intervention. He tells me not to obsess, that we have visited here three times and have never seen one.  Then he mentions that I have been here three weeks and I have never seen one.  Good point.

"Do you know what is really amazing about the scorpion?" he asks me.

"No, what?"

"That it showed itself while I was here."

I smile, and then laugh. "Yea, that is amazing..." I say sincerely.  He is usually traveling when things like this occur at home.  I picture myself alone with the lobster.  I would have tried to smash it somehow...I would have screamed as it chased me around the room.  I shake the image from my mind...

Sleep occurs, as my body is tired; despite the activity of my mind.  The morning light brings a fresh notion- I should delve into the symbology.  Is it a messenger of the spirits that I encountered the day before with the shaman?

I dig into the metaphysical side of my nemesis in the bright sunlight of a gorgeous warm morning.  Scorpions indicate powerful transformation.  There is a strong tie to symbolic death and rebirth. Isolation / defense is a strong indication as well.  I am living here alone again after Pete leaves...what does this possibly mean?

We get ready for a day of hiking and as we are about to get in the car, Pete says "Hey, there is another scorpion here."  He instantly looks sheepish and adds "Why did I just say that? You're paranoid enough..."  But I come over and take a peak. This one is orange and translucent. Small pincers. Long  stinger. It is definitely a Bark scorpion.  The ten year old boy in Pete takes over and he wants to poke at it, but I am alarmed at his lack of fear. He sees my fear and relents. We get in the car, leaving Scorpion Manor, heading towards a coffee shop.

I ask the young male cashier how often he has seen a scorpion in Sedona.  His answer surprises me; he tells me he worked at the Hyatt Resort in maintenance before this job. He says he has never seen a scorpion, but tarantulas are not uncommon.   Tarantulas?  as in TARANTULAS?!? Ack!! More to fear!  The espresso barista chimes in that she has seen tarantulas and rattle snakes but never a scorpion.  In fact, she has never heard of anyone seeing one in Sedona.  Well then...she has now...

I see the local paper...a mountain lion has been spotted in a subdivision. Great. More fear.  Yet, the scorpion sighting seems to be rare enough to warrant a phone call to the shaman whom we saw the day before. In a foolish gesture of friendship, he had given me his cell phone number.  Poor man had no idea who he was dealing with...the Queen of Weird Phenomena.  He wisely does not pick up the call.

"Hi Akal. This is Brenda. I am curious how common scorpions are as Pete and I just saw two different varieties, one in the house, one in the driveway in a ten hour period. I know I'm crazy, but is it a sign? I know, I know, everything is a sign...but is this a real sign? (I laugh here...so much assumption) So, if you have a moment, could you please give me a call back?  Thanks!"

His answer comes back also as a voicemail. He discusses that scorpions are extremely rare in Sedona and that this is definitely a sign. A real sign. He rattles off scorpion totem attributes and then adds that when I acknowledge the message, the scorpions will leave me alone. Good, because Pete is leaving again. The image of a lobster chasing me around the room reemerges. No.

Pete and I discuss the various meanings and what might fit as a message.  Perhaps it is a lesson in our separation and the passion that binds he and I? Perhaps it is a warning for me to be prudent in my solitude?  I have been walking on endless trails with little regard for the safety of it.  Just a few days ago a group of women said that I must be brave to hike alone.  I looked at them questioningly...the thought never occurred to me. I was just walking.

A new thought pops into my head- maybe that is a message for Pete.  Why do I assume that only I have spirit guides?  Pete pauses and laughs.  Good point.  He ponders and comes up with nothing. 

I decide that the message is to be cautious with my solitude. Yes. That must be it.  With my decision comes some solace and I invent further rules to minimize the scorpion threat.  Chief among these are natural scorpion deterrents researched on the internet; scorpions avoid lavender. Aha!  I purchase lavender essential oil and anoint each doorway.  Second, scorpions can't climb stairs.  I probably made this one up, but at least I will sleep with some sense of security.  Third, scorpions are nocturnal, avoiding direct light. This one is fact.  I shall turn lights on in each room I enter to send the lobsters running. 

I just returned from dropping Pete off at the airport and so far, no sign of my evil adversary.  I give a small bow to the universe in thanks, rub lavender along the sill plate and lock the front door.