Tuesday, June 30, 2009


The sweetness of being in the middle of two beings I love beyond measure is what awakens me… in the old bed, in the old decrepit cabin, surrounded by mice… and the sun comes in the window and I wake. Breakfast is hippie oatmeal, served by the patchouli-wearing Jon, who, with lethargic, sloth-like resistance to the hippie label and unintentional dreds spilling down his back, hands me a bowl replete with thimble berries he gathered himself. Honey from my bees and lots of cinnamon complete the perfection. Spoon scrapes metal bowl soon, and Moona’s on round two before I’m even fully engaged with my first. Later, coffee is obtained at the wifi hot spot here in Arco, which doubles as a café doubling as a RV park. And technology surrounds us as we take up three outlets and burn the hell out of their bandwidth. And my frustration at slow internet connection belies my new-found status as a Californian,

Nap time equals meltdown for Moona. Who then removes herself to sit in the hot car for an hour, giving us both a chance to come home to center. I get to hang with my friend, she gets to hang with Polly Pockets. And open the rest of the surprise car presents. So much for the surprise factor. She claims she only looked at the backs of the items, but I fear that’s not quite the truth.

Driving back through Craters of the Moon, and the visual of the eroding volcano that spewed all that lava reminds me that all returns to the Mother, eventually. And conversation revolves around faith in the Mother Earth, versus dismay and mistrust for humanity. If you know me well, you’ll know which point I was arguing. Favorite quote of the day is from Spider: “It’s all light, it’s all dark, all the time.” This drive leads us all to Karey Hot Springs, next to Highway 20, but very secluded and easeful on the eyes. Moona struggles with meeting her own needs like water and peeing, and the volcanic rock on flip flops is tough to take. Jon does it barefoot, of course. She does manage to return triumphant with her water bottle, after drinking all of mine and me refusing to wait on her further.

She’s not saying that she wants to go home anymore, and seems quite content with her new friends, especially the horse across from the cabin. Me too: it’s good to be with loved ones, in this breathsucking heartbreaking beauty. Dinner is falafel salad, cooked over the stove in the cabin with no electricity nor water. Clean up, what’s that? I find my standards of hygiene lower noticeable, when I’m wiping off things on my pants and thinking they’re clean. But I love this. It’s Roots.

As I write I’m sitting on a table outside, watching the sun slide down behind the mountains. So tired, after many nights of not sleeping too much, and yet enjoying the clarity from clear air and horizons, a diminished sense of ego, and kinship. And now the sun is gone, and the mosquitos not. Until tomorrow.