I have heard so many beautiful things about this place and the energy here. I feel it, but I have felt a beautiful energy in most of the places we’ve been, save the bigger cities like Denver and SLC. Aside from those two vortexes, we have done a pretty good job of routing through less traveled roads and less peopled towns. Sundance in Red Valley, AZ, was beautiful, though a confusing and overwhelming energy. The nearby Shiprock, NM was a beautiful example of a kind of defeated nature of Navajo Nation: depressing but strangely hopeful… nicht aufgeben… though there were plenty of examples of giving up and surrendering to the dust and sun… and fate.
The evidence of broken dreams and static government housing were abundant, but a lot of the landscape had a similar feel to various Southern California communities, with the obvious and well documented tainted history. People in places like the Salton Sea have chosen to live there, but there is also the argument that those in places like Shiprock choose to stay, like those of color choose to stay in the obviously racist south. Where does one go, though? Is it a barrier in the human mind that need be crossed, or government and society holding a culture’s face against the hot sand with a ‘Murica freedom boot? I actually welcome a deep conversation about that, but this very northern European family didn’t exactly feel welcomed there, for good reason… I guess.
Sundance itself was an amazing experience, and ironically the last of its kind in that location. I felt completely out of place, but was pulled into the energy by being included in a pipe handoff while I happened to be there by myself the second morning, leaning against a post observing the unfamiliar ceremony, not knowing exactly if I was allowed to dance, too, or if that would be disrespectful? They half laughed at me when I just walked over to a little group and told them I had no idea what to do with the pipe. They showed me, and just like that I was a part of it all, dancing in support every chance I got. The little dust-blown and sun-baked circle we found ourselves camping in just happened to be souls from Taos, or ones heading to Taos next. We were invited to pop-up on a property that is being converted into a permaculture farm, which is our overall plan, so here we are.
Taos has been more of a deep conversation than a deep feeling. This place is gorgeous, but we don’t feel that spiritual call that most talk about. I have felt restless and a little out of place, like the souls who live here have some beautiful secret that they aren’t telling me. That is kind of a negative way to put it, but it’s an odd feeling to try to describe. We have met some beautiful people here, and it has been an amazing experience. We are so very grateful for the opportunity to be here. Maybe the energy is a bit of an overflow from Sundance? I am personally having a hard time feeling like I belong anywhere but on the road to somewhere else, though the road is feeling more and more like beautiful things that we are missing because we belong moving.
At very least I feel like we achieved a kind of purpose here by helping in the garden and sharing Kambo with the beautiful soul who is hosting our pop-up family on this beautiful property. My Love jumped into serving with me, and everything went like we’ve been practicing for years, when this was actually our first time, not just together, but with someone who wasn’t already part of our Kambo family circle. I have had a lot of souls ask if I would serve them this medicine, but I have found this strange sort of phenomena where those who need the medicine the most fit perfectly into the contraindication don’t-dare list, so I have found myself trying to gracefully explain to people that I just can’t serve them, which I guess is the part of being a practitioner that I need to understand better right now. That is also somewhat defeating, though, when I just want to help as many people heal as possible.
A lot of these posts are likely going to start with one thought in one place and end up with something completely different in another place, because this beautiful little family moves around a lot, and these beautiful minds are processing a lot of information. There is rarely time to stop and complete a thought, which I feel perfectly describes this adventure. I’m not sure how a lot of this will translate as a reader, but it is what it is, and we are all doing the best we can. The balance of family and creativity will always sway toward family now, and there is always a lot to do. I am strangely ok with that, after a lifetime of putting creativity and accomplishing something first. I think I already covered that, though. I don’t know what I’e covered anymore.
I mentioned in the last post about the rain surreally following us. That has continued, and we have already talked about finding a more solid structure trailer, which means a more solid vehicle, but we are still planning on rolling with the Splubaru and Dale for a while. Dale just requires a lot more trouble shooting after these little monsoon pockets we continue to find ourselves in, and though the weather hasn’t been dry, we have been given little pockets of clearing to take care of things. The universe has actually taken care of us a lot in those regards, and everything seems to work out perfectly. We left Taos hoping to get into the Colorado mountains to camp in our element again, after a couple weeks of community, but an unexpected detour and a storm pushed us into Crestone, CO, and a full campsite that happened to have one spot left. We have been taking more time to go on little adventures, and found some in that little corner of Colorado, and right when we decided to scrap camping at 10,000 ft and just burn all night through to WY, the universe slowed us down real quick with a blown bearing in one of our wheels in Grant, where we found ourselves thoroughly taking care of.
Through a quick series of conversations and phone calls, a local mechanic named Cody had our part on the way on a Friday evening, and we were taken in by a Hostel named Two Bridges with limited space because all the rooms in the nearby Bailey were booked. It feels strange writing that down because it all went so perfect and really deserves its own post. In the morning we were on the road again like we had just decided to stay in Bailey, Colorado.
Then we were off to WY to pop up in a park in Wheatland that allows free camping, which on a Saturday had plenty of spots. I suppose not many people are spending summer weekends at parks in Wyoming towns when there’s a lake right up the highway? These are the kind of little gems we need to find more of, though it is wonderful to have little slices of wilderness to ourselves. We have covered a lot of ground in the last two months, and it is really starting to hit me. I feel like we spent a lot of time in Colorado, and accidentally got to swing through the southwest without really dealing with the unbearable heat, but I keep looking around and saying “we’re in Wyoming” out loud to myself. That vacation feeling is starting to fade, and this is starting to feel like life now. We have one meetup with family this week in the Black Hills, and what then? What’s next? I feel that. There are loose plans, but we can go anywhere and do anything.
I still feel like I need to go back and recount the journey. There are a lot of photos I skipped over, and a lot of story we haven’t shared. Nevada welcomed us with an abandoned community at the top of the first pass, then spit us out with a violent wind storm. We dropped anchor in Delta, Utah, with a pretty serious case of burnout, but discovered a geological wonderland. Spent a week in the hills above SLC and visited some Kambo Fam, then crammed a quick day near Moab. We said hi to Colorado by accidentally finding Doc Holliday’s grave, then spent a week in Colorado Springs with the mom, trying out a new diet and starting some fermenting and mushroom foraging. Spent a couple days in an empty campground by a beautiful and less peopled reservoir, then a couple days in Durango. Got a radiator cap in Cortez, CO, after a little panic. The rest I think you can put together, but so much happened in between. This post suddenly has a “HEY! We’re still alive” feel to it. We are ALIVE, though, not just, but a little suddenly.