I am exposed on high ground at the north end of a long, narrow desert valley. A light wind comes off the mountains to the north, and the full length of the valley sweeps away below me. It's October - hot days, cold nights. I have been alone, fasting from food and drinking only water, for the past four days. With the end of the fourth day approaching, I have prepared for an all-night vigil in a small circle of stones and sticks. This ceremony provides the outline and structure for my solo fast and my vigil: an extended preparation leading to four days of severance from my familiar life and solitude. For these four days, I go without food and with only a minimum of shelter. Time for reincorporation and integration will come later. The structure of the ceremony draws from the same deep well as many cultures' rites of passage - the vision quest and walkabout, among them - and the support of my guides has been profoundly helpful, but with the arrival of the last night of my solo, I am increasingly alone.

As the setting sun pauses for a moment on the western mountains, I put my sleeping bag, ground pad, and water bottle into the circle. Slowly, I take off my clothes and place them into the circle. I say a prayer for strength through the night, hoping for a vision of my place in the world and guidance for my work as a wilderness guide. As the sun dips below the horizon, I bow to say good-bye and step into the circle. My aim is to stay here all night, awake. Once in the circle, I quickly put my clothes back on; it is cold now, desert night cold.  I have fasted alone in a similar way several times before this and received deep, strong teachings and insights. This time is different, however. I have deliberately set higher goals for myself. Not knowing exactly what I need, I sense that the more I can let go, the more I will get out of it. My mantra the last four days has been "Dig Deeper."

Another difference is symbolized by going naked into the circle. I am seeking as much surrender as possible. In the past, I went into my vigils with my meditation beads, journal, Tibetan cymbals, songs, chants, and other tools for awakening. This time I leave all that behind, taking only what I feel I need for safety during the night. Going naked represents my intention to simply be here, just me in the circle. In parallel, my intention for the solo has been simplifying, almost like the sun and wind blowing off my wishes and hopes until nothing but the bones of my intention remain. The question I couldn't quite voice goes something like this: "Do I have what I need to live my life?"

As the night comes on, stars appear in the east and the blue in the west deepens. Shooting stars come down, some on the edge of my awareness, some full-bore in front of me leaving neon blue trails. Like a lover's tickle, they delight me. I sit in my circle for a while and when my legs get tired, I move around the circle in a slow, shuffling dance. From time to time, I stretch and bow, usually to nothing in particular.

I have been trying not to have too many expectations about a "vision," but it is hard. How often have I told others not to expect any particular kind of vision on such a vigil? "A vision can come in many different forms; be open to whatever happens, including nothing." But I find it hard to let go of my expectations. Instead, I let them surface, all the hopes and fears. Maybe animals will speak to me or the sky will open to reveal a chorus of angels; maybe not. What if nothing at all happens? I suspect this is my biggest fear - emptiness, insignificance, pointlessness.