Some believe that Sedona, Arizona, is like the Pyramids — or is it Atlantis,? — where celestial forces converge, or where ley lines become singularities — whatever that means — or maybe it has to do with the warp of time and space. Hard to say exactly. Very nonlinear.

Some say that extraterrestrials visit Sedona to breed with us. It’s said to be very special, lasting hours. There are books about it, self-published, usually. Sometimes, though, the visitors from outer space — or maybe some other point in time — simply want to document how we perform our mating.

Kooky, but Sedona’s a fun place, touristy, to be sure, but really pretty.

Aunt Bev couldn’t have afforded Sedona property if she’d not sold her VW to protest petroleum dependency — she’s since rethought that one, as in Sedona, you need a 4-wheeler — and bought fledgling Microsoft stock because she believed in small and soft things. IBM would be big and hard. In any case, she ended up not having to do her beadwork, though she still strings up chunks of sandstone, “Authentic Sedona,” to counter the toxins tourists must deal with when they return home.

I’d chosen NAU — that’s Northern Arizona University, up in Flagstaff — because it’s nicer there than Tempe or Tucson, and wherever you study it, computer science is about keeping up with developments, not where you learn it. Holograms, the next big thing.

Aunt Bea’s invitation for fall break provided an escape from dorm-life, a chance to catch up on family doings. Of all my aunts, she’d be the one who keeps up with everything.

I greeted her with a kiss to the cheek — what aunts are known to expect — but she’d have nothing so northern Europium. “A real one.”

I hoped she didn’t think I was rubbing with her hooks, but that’s where my hand was. They say they’re easy to undo if you squeeze the right way, but it’s not the sort of thing you’d try on your aunt.

Her top was Indonesian, she said, from World Womencraft where they sell things from co-ops. Why she told me, I wasn’t sure.

Once she’d updated me regarding her upcoming half-marathon — it’s about juices, she explained. She’d make me one, maybe kumquat — we made a plan.

“Astrid’s dying to meet you.”

“Who’?”

“From Sister Circle. We have potlucks and everything. She’s the one who picked the date.”

“What date?”

“When to invite you. She’s into celestial pairings.”

I may have looked confused.

“You know, when your signs say to get together.”.

As maybe I wasn’t going to figure this one out, I didn’t pursue it. With Aunt Bev, you don’t always know what’s happening.

Heading out to her gas-buzzer, Aunt Bev took my elbow, her breast against my arm difficult to ignore because of its size, especially after you’ve been checking her bra strap. It’s even more difficult to ignore when it’s not just your arm, but back and forth over it with each step.

Astrid’s place was adorned with horseshoes and hubcaps. “The horseshoes are for magnetic energy,” I’d been tipped off. “The hubcaps are for solar,”

“Ah, the Aries nephew,” Astrid welcomed me, her embrace no less than I’d received from my aunt. “Virgo and Aries, the sublime harmonic.”

I thought best not to have her explain.

“You two sit side by side,” once we got inside. “No, closer. Hold hands, maybe. Great resonance,” dangling before us what looked to be a geode in a string. “Trust your conjunctive emotions.”.

I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I guessed it was positive.

“That pot, there, Acoma,” Astrid indicating a vase. “The design’s like a barcode and only the old ones know how to read it. The kiva’s all set,” she went on, more to my aunt than to me. “The rug’s been blessed and Cheyanne made us a Pachamama amulet for under it. I got some wheat sheaves. Organic. LeeAnne will fan sage. Sheryl’s going to play flute.”

Afterwards, Aunt Bev told me that Astrid used to be Irish, but that was before she discovered her Egyptian foremothers.

On the way home, we stopped at another of the Sister Circle, Colette, who likewise greeted me like a long-lost soulmate. Or maybe mate.

“How about some Ashwagandha?” which turned out to be tea, the box showing a pair of Hindu gods, arms around each other. They looked to be doing more than just hugging, actually

If I wanted some honey, she had some full of organic pollen.

I said thanks.

“Plus you two might want some ylang ylang.”

“You bet,, “ agreed my aunt, explaining to me, “An essential oil,” at which Colette produced a flask and dabbed the back of our necks.

“Can’t wait for the ceremony to get to know him better,” Colette told my aunt.

Bach in the car, Aunt Bev assured me that Colette, even with her metabolic imbalance, could still do yoga.

“Come on out,” my aunt called from the porch after the sun went down. “Full moon.”

The stars were diamonds, another reason that tourists like Sedona.

“That there’s you. Aries,” pointing at a constellation that I didn’t recognize to be one. “The ram. I’m a Virgo, a maiden,” indicating her own cosmic real estate. “We’re Aunt maiden and nephew rain.”

Standing behind her made it natural to hold her ribs and the way she leaned back made me end up further around. She’d taken off her bra, it just being us, and pulled up my hands as she told about a goddess who swoops down in her sky chariot and scoops up a boy who’s looking at the stars.

“Know about minor planets?” as she raised her arm to point towards a different sector of the heavens. “Dakota says between Saturn and Uranus are Chariklo and her nephew Chiron

“Right,” as if I knew that.

“There’s a lot of mating going on around here, too,” she went on, me missing the connection, but moving further upward, “Star — she’s in Sister Circle, too — works at the Best Western and says half the guests miss the breakfast bar, and the ones that make there it half the time aren’t with who they checked in with. Like ‘What happens in Las Vegas stays in Las Vegas,’ except here, we’re not tacky,” her her nipples like pebbles, her shoulders beginning to rotate, one, then the other.

“Yeah, using my finger to judge the size of the protrusions. NAU’s major in geology — the Grand Canyon and all — and I’d learned how the size of the stones tells things about flood flows. Well OK, and maybe they were fun to rub.

“Could be the Gaia fields, the energy, you think?”

“Maybe,” though I’d not heard of such things in thermodynamics, but that’s not my field.

There was no way she didn’t know what I was doing, but why was she letting me?

When she rose on her tiptoes, her hip now more against me, I feared she’d feel what I’d rather she’d not, but squirming away didn’t buy me much space.

“Imagine us up there in the sky, spinning around the sun,” she pondered as she rear-ended back into me.

“It would be cold,” fearing I might be in trouble.

“That’s why Chariklo and Chiron mate, to keep warm, It’s so fun imagining what’s up there,” ending it as if nothing more than star-gazing had just occurred.

Aunt Bev disappeared to shower, a few minutes later calling for me to bring the vitamin soap. “Pass it over,” once I found it, her having no idea how much I could see through the water on the glass. “Want me to do your back?” from the other side. “There’s enough hot water.”