Wednesday, July 1, 2009



Dawn wakes us with the need to pee. Moona and I trek outside, pee, and return to the cabin. With the thought that sleep, though much needed, was now impossible, I drop off quickly. Dreaming of a red velvet Ganesh (!) I sleep until high sun, around 11:00 or so. Shared dreams as we wake, then the routine of oatmeal. Cleaning dishes by the handpump in the yard is an interesting challenge.

The people I’m staying with are wonderfully crazy. Calling themselves “Rewilders,” ( they walk the Sacred Hoop of the native people, planting, harvesting, and gathering indigenous foods. Thimble berries, pinon, breadroot, bitter root, camas, white onion. The knowledge they possess is as ancient as humans on this land. Living in relation with the natural world, and walking reverently upon her, they live in a way of heart and dedication. Traveling seasonally, they move with the food sources. And yet there is the expected tension of any people trying to live in a way that falls outside of societal norms. It’s funny to hear people arguing by cell phone about traditional practices. Finisia Madrano, aka Tranny Granny, teaches, preaches, rants and passionately speaks the truth, no dissension allowed. You can watch and listen to her on youtube:

And though our time at the cabin has been a cherished gift, it’s also an intense and filthy place to be. I feel the call of the road. As we are packing, our new and much beloved friend Spider is giving us farewell gifts. He asks me to hold out my hands, then touches each item four times to my hand before dropping it into my palms, thereby allowing any attachment he possesses to the object and how I will use it to be broken. He gives me a sandpainting his parents gave him years ago, a beaded sacred spider for my classroom, smudge from Wolf Creek, ten dollars, a San Francisco tee-shirt, and a General Mao picture to hang from my rear view mirror. To Moona he gifts a stapler (her FAVORITE thing) a roll of tape, construction paper, an art box, and many glo-sticks. How he had just the right things for each of us is the Magick. What love in gifts freely given. He freely gives advice too, and offers to help us pack. I gift him my favorite pink sparkle scarf from Winter Camp, and he’s delighted with his new drag. Sacred Clown, Switch Hitter, Coyote, trickster, teacher of ASL and of the deaf, this in-between Winkte is a deep well of wonder and joy and giggly irreverence.

The plan is to stop for a bite, find wifi, and head out the Big Lost River to camp before visiting petroglyphs in the morning. We stop at the Mountain Man Trading Post and meet Mel and Showana, friends of Jon’s. Instantaneous heart connection with these fine folks who walk in Spirit. I tell Mel the truth when he asks about this journey, about the search for God and connection and he absolutely understands and takes me deeper into my own understanding with his questions. How to sustain Grace? What is the Grace of each thing in the world? Of a dancer? An onion? We help them unload their weekly truck of produce, and after sitting down for some social time, he hugs me firmly for a long time, kisses my cheek, and delivers this zinger which is also the quote of the day; “Anytime you’re in this area, and you will come back, you can stay in the room over there. We can look deeply into the truth together, if you’d care to. We could all use a little more of that.”

Driving out of Arco after lunch at Pickle’s Place, we find our spot along the river, at the base of the mountains, and set up camp amidst tremendous wind. Moona is asleep beside me as I write, and I feel I’m not long in joining her. Jon and Spider will arrive soon to camp with us, and we’ll make an early start of it in the morning. Love, so much open-hearted tearful joyful painful blissful Love. It will be hard to leave, and I’ve already cried about it. And yet the road continues for us.