Stillness Of The Desert

As I left California, with the rain and cold weather still in the forecast, and the government shutdown still torturing me, I decided to head to Death Valley National Park. It was supposed to rain on and off with temps in the 50's. Due to private donors, most of the park was open and the campgrounds were free since the park was not allowed to charge fees. As I entered the park, I was stunned by the prehistoric looking mountains, as if an ancient lounge of giant sea lizards had climbed up out of the Pacific Ocean and decided to take a nap and never woke up. The colors of the layered sediment reminded me of layered sand art that so many of us made as children, with oranges, grays, purplish-blues, varying hues of browns. The aged sediment pressed down and down until it looked like a painted mountain, sloping down into the desert floor. The sand dunes also appeared magical. As I passed by, the overcast lighting from the sky made the caramel colored dunes appear as silk sheets with the illusion of waves gently cascading and falling

The drive down into the park was also a highlight. Highways 190 starts at the top of the mountain at 5,000 feet  and then goes down and down and down, with gentle ups, like a kiddie roller coaster, in one straight shot to the bottom of the desert floor at 200 feet below sea level. There was not another car on the road for the entire drive down. It’s was a  total thrill for me to drive fast and I just let my car coast, at 85 mph, riding the middle of the road, up and down, up and down, with butterflies in my stomach and having a blast.

Unfortunately, I was unable to enjoy the park.  It started raining the evening I got there and then the next day was 45 degrees with a mix a rain, strong wind and a few snow flurries.  I was in no mood to explore in that weather. And of course, the weather forecast showed no indication of sunny skies over the next week so I decided to move along and head to the Grand Canyon. There was hope of sunny skies there.

When I arrived at the Grand Canyon, which was open despite the government shut down, it was 45 degrees, sunny, no wind or rain and about 8 inches of snow on the ground. It was very busy and seemed as if every ethnicity and language had gathered at this national site. There were Indian women in Sari’s, teenagers in shorts and t-shirts, the granola hikers decked out in the name brand essential hiking gear with their man buns. There were tourists that looked like they had driven from Aspen, Colorado with their fancy, faux fur lined boots and coats as well as some foreign tourists in flip flops and jackets, shivering while trying to take the quintessential Grand Canyon photo. Many of the hiking trails were closed off due to snow and the risk of safety issues. Since one of the only trails open was the South Rim, a paved trail, I decided I’d walk that for a while. The trail was active with all the tourists sightseeing. Generally I get annoyed when there is too much of a crowd and I can’t enjoy the scenery, but I enjoyed watching all these people experience snow.  For instance, 3 middle aged Indian women, all dressed in Sari’s, building a small snowman and throwing snowballs at each other, and laughing like school girls. There was a Latino family having a snowball fight. A mother-daughter duo that kept arguing about how cold it actually was and how far they wanted to walk. There were two older women who kept attempting a selfie but kept falling down on top of each other in the icy snow (I stepped into helpJ I know the difficulties of taking a selfie). I continued people-watching as I sauntered along the path, breathing the crisp fresh air, and stopping now and then to admire the grand scenery. There were moments of quiet, away from the crowds, sitting on a ledge here and there and just taking in how massive and still this place was.

The next day predicted rain and possibly snow.  I decided I’d wake up early the next morning to head out before the weather became too bad.  As I left the park around 8 am, the blizzard started.  The 3^rd snowstorm of my trip. I drove for about an hour in the snow before I needed to stop and get gas. The other two national parks in Arizona were still closed (Petrified Forest and Saguaro) and some fellow travelers recommended I head to Tuscan where the temperature was sunny and 60 degrees. That sounded heavenly!! So I headed out from the snow storm, which then later became a sand storm with the high winds persisting as I drove through the desert. The wind was so strong that I was holding onto the steering wheel with white-knuckles trying to keep my car in the lane. I eventually reached Tucson and decided to stay a couple nights at Catalina State Park.

The park was breathtaking. The campground was green with varieties of cacti ranging from Saguaro, prickly pear, fishhook barrel, staghorn cholla, teddy bear cholla and so many more. Several plants were flowering and those bits of color popped against the green and brown background. The mountains behind the campground were tall, jagged and gray, but felt protective of the desert it covered. Unfortunately, I contracted a nasty head and chest cold and my energy was pretty low to enjoy it all. My last day there I did manage a 4 mile easy hike/walk. The stillness was calming. I was the only one on the path, and if it wasn’t for the prickly cacti everywhere, I would have enjoyed just laying down and sunbathing in the stillness of that landscape.

I have vivid memories and feelings of stillness and “being” when in the desert. Once was in Wadi Rum, a large desert in the country of Jordan (mentioned in a previous blog post) of how I was just still while riding through the desert. Another time of sitting atop the arid Arabian Mountains. And another memory of driving down a random dirt road in southeastern Utah and coming to the edge of a canyon. I remember sitting there while I watched the sun go down, without another soul around. I didn’t experience any inspirational thoughts or insights, but that moment felt profound and still and immense and beautiful and sacred, but for no particular reason other than I was witnessing a breath taking moment on this lovely Earth.

I’ve noticed that my energy feels different in different landscapes.  When I’m by the ocean, my body feels a restless energy and it’s difficult for me to relax, oddly enough, since the beach is a place most people think of when imaging a relaxing time. When I’m in the mountains or walking among trees, I feel a positive, calming, grounding but also driving energy.  When I’m in the desert, I feel still. That’s all. I don’t feel rushed, or think about the past, or the future or even the now. I don’t feel at battle with my ego, or wounds, or self-esteem, or hunger or sleep. My soul is just “being” in the stillness. Stillness is a verb, an action word. In our everyday lives, it actually takes effort to be still, to put down our phones, our “to-do” lists, to turn off the tablet or TV, to let our minds rest. I am a restless soul with a restless mind. It takes a tremendous amount of effort or external distractions to shut off my mind.  Yet, when I’m in the desert, there is no effort to be still, it just happens. There is a calmness, a profound peace, an almost spiritual experience when I walk in the quietness.  It’s as if Mother Earth is telling me to slow down, that it takes time and patience to grow and carve a beautiful existence, so just be still and let it be.

Walking through this Arizona desert landscape didn’t offer any profound revelations, but I was reminded of the stillness. It is easy to always rush onto the next thing. Why is that?  If stillness is so sweet and good for the soul, why do we prioritize “doing” over stillness. Obviously, we all have obligations to jobs, family and maintaining our material needs, but perhaps moments of stillness can help us reconnect with our soul, our divine, in order to help us learn and appreciate the beauty among all the chaos.  

Catalina Island, A Perfect Day

My ambition of being able to visit all the national parks in the lower 48 states while on my road trip, was definitely not going to happen.  The rain was one reason and the government shutdown was the other. After visiting Big Sur and driving the coast, I was hoping the parks would open back up. I wanted to visit Channel Islands National Park, but it was completely closed. The closest thing would be Catalina Island to the south. 

I didn’t know much about Catalina Island, but saw some great pictures online and decided I wanted to go for a day trip. The weather forecast was 45 degrees and overcast and the ferry ticket was a bit expensive, but I’m on vacation and splurging every now and again is fun (self-care, right?). When I arrived on the island I was immediately drawn to all the different colored houses, the engaging beach front shops and restaurants, how mountainous the island was, and lastly, a little surprised by how small the only city of Catalina Island was, Avalon. I wandered around a while, talked with the woman at the visitor’s center and decided I wanted to go for a bike ride. The weather had warmed up to 50 degrees, but I was dressed warmly so I felt a bike ride would be ok. I called the bike shop that advertised an all downhill 10 mile bike ride, starting from the top of the island down to the cove, where the resort town was. A man named Randy answered the phone and said that no one else had booked a bike ride for the day and he usually waits for a group of people to make it worth his while, since it’s a 30 min drive to get to the top of the island. But then he said he had nothing else going on and “why not.” So about an hour later, Randy had gotten everything arranged and was driving me up the winding road to the top of the island.  It was so beautiful!

Randy had grown up on the island, had moved away during his young adult years and then moved back with his wife.  He was an incredibly friendly, knowledgeable, interesting and engaging story teller. While on the drive up, he shared all sorts of facts about the island, the environment, anecdotes, stories about the residents and how he acted as one of the island rangers, keeping it clean and damage free from tourists and campers. When we reached the top, he dropped me off and waved good luck and good bye, “see you in a couple hours!” 

Randy was so engaging on the ride up that I neglected to pay attention to how bumpy and riddled with potholes the road was.  The first 4 miles down was a dirt road with millions (that is not an over-exaggeration!!) of tiny potholes, making for a very uncomfortable ride. I enjoy bike riding but for my personal bike I had actually purchased a more cushioned seat and I was not used to a hard, flat and generic bike seat. Oh my bum!! You would think that with all the adipose tissue on my back side it would be an asset, but no. Apparently my sensitive nature comes with a sensitive bum. After about 2-3 miles of endless bumpiness, my bum was begging me to stop. I should mention that I also neglected to notice on the drive up, all the hills we went up and down along the way. There were 4-5 miles of up and down, up and down, up and down.  I was able to successfully pedal through the first 2 miles, but due to a combination of being out of shape and my sore bum, I eventually had to get off my bike and walk on the uphills. On the downhills, I would stand up and coast and give my bum some welcome relief. But the amazing views were all worth it. The sun had come out and it was starting to warm up. The island was so green and the ocean so blue and it was just stunning! 

After coasting down a hill and approaching another uphill, I decided to try to pedal as fast as I could to gain some momentum to try to make it up without getting off my bike.  As I was approaching the hill, I slammed on my brakes as I saw 2 bison in the roadway.  Randy had mentioned there were buffalo on the island, but he never mentioned what to do if I came across them. I immediately turned around and pedaled about 200 ft back down the road.  Both of the bison were leisurely grazing, one of each side of the road, with no sign of moving on.  So I waited, and waited and then I saw a truck come up the road. I waved. The guy waved back and kept driving by. “Really dude?!”  I let out a sigh of frustration but soon another 2 trucks were coming up the road. With a little hope rising up, I tried waving both of them down, but they both just continued on by. I was tempted to call Randy for advice, but then a red SUV was driving up the road and I was determined to flag this one down.  However, the vehicle stopped right next to one of the buffalo. They rolled down the window and a medium size dog stuck its head out the window and started barking at the large beast. The buffalo lifted its gigantic head toward the vehicle and started pawing the ground. Uh oh. Here we go. I’m going to witness a wildlife encounter, the one’s you see pop up on you-tube videos and you wonder where common sense is. The people in the car were at least smart enough to back up and then drive to make a wide berth to drive around the animal. As the  car approached me, it stopped and the guy asked if I wanted a ride.  Yes!! He lifted my bike onto the top of the car and then moved the dog from the passenger seat and I climbed in. In the back seat were crammed 3 adult women and 3 children. I was wondering how the dog had had claim to the front seat while all of them were smooshed in the back? The man held the dog on his lap and we had to drive slowly so that my bike wouldn’t slide off while driving on the very bumpy road.  As we passed the buffalo, the windows were still down and the dog started yapping again. The buffalo looked up. A sarcastic but very sincere prayer went through my head, “Please God, this is a beautiful island, but I really don’t feel like dying right now. Like, you have some really beautiful animals but I don’t feel like being mauled to death. Can you please make the dog shut up?!”  The dog didn’t shut up, but the buffalo also didn’t react this time around and we got safely past. The man was kind enough to even drive me all the up to the top of the next hill. I thanked him and gently suggested he roll up the windows for safety so that the dog doesn’t provoke the buffalo. He laughed and said, “yeah, maybe.”

The next mile continued to be bumpy and I did a lot of walking because my hiney was not happy.  But the last 5 miles were awesome!  All downhill, wind in my face, sunshine shining down on me and hardly any cars on the road.  I stopped a few times to take pictures and just to take in the scenery. This is what I initially imagined when I booked the excursion, and my soul was glowing (so was my bum, just more of an achy kind).

As I reached the town of Avalon, I called Randy to ask where to drop off my bike. He was at a nearby pub having a drink and avoiding his to-do list. I ended up joining him at the bar for a drink. Sitting next to Randy was a young man spouting stats about football and then to the side of me was an older couple from Boston. We spent the next two hours sharing conversations, stories and each other’s company. It was pleasant and a perfect way to end the day.  And I have to say, I had ordered some oysters that were about the best I’ve ever had (from Gig Harbor, WA). They were so fresh as well as big and plump that I was tempted to ask for a knife to cut them.

At the end of those two hours, I had to say my goodbyes so that I could catch the ferry back to the mainland. The sun was starting to go down and a yellowy-orangish aura surrounded the cove, similar to the glow I was feeling earlier. And so I sat there in the chilly evening, sipping on some hot tea, happy and wanting to hold on the feeling of the perfect day I had just had.

Big Sur, The Pacific Coast and Spirit Animals

Have you ever read a book that just spoke to you? Like, the whole time you’re just saying, “Yep. Amen sister!  Yes, I’m totally feelin’ it.”  That’s how it was when I read Anatomy of a Calling a few years ago (I’m currently re-reading it). The author, Lissa Ranck, is an OB/GYN who became frustrated with the current health care system and felt she had lost touch with her true calling to really connect and help others heal. In the book, Lissa refers multiple times to how Big Sur was a place of spiritual awakenings, that it had this amazing energy that she felt flowed through her and helped realize her divine potential.  “Hmm….” I thought, “I totally want me some of that spiritual awakening and divine potential stuff!”

I knew that as I was leaving on my road trip that Big Sur was going to be one of my stops. I was a bit disappointed that the forecast was rain, rain and more rain.  There was one day where the rain did let up and I jumped on the opportunity. I went to some of the places Lissa Ranck had described in her book. I was surrounded by so much beautiful scenery, but no special feeling arose. No divine spiritual experiences. “Ok, well, maybe later” I told myself, a bit disappointed.  I decided to go for a 4 mile hike, round-trip, to a lookout point over the ocean. The beginning of the walk was so beautiful. Tall redwoods, ferns, colorful plants popping out among the foliage, a bluebird flying back and forth among the bushes. And then the hike turned to switchbacks. The sweat started pouring down my forehead, my heart rate increased to about 400bpm and my breathing became a bit more labored and I was developing a side-ache, like when you try to go for a jog after eating a big plate of nachos (because I’ve definitely never done that before). It was overcast, humid and I was out of shape. Then the conversation started in my head,” How is this so hard for me? I’ve done much harder hikes than this!” My blunt inner voice responded, similar to Jillian Michaels during Biggest Loser, “Are you kidding me?!  When was the last time you worked out? In fact, when was the last time you were actually ‘in shape’?”  I grumbled back, “Ok, ok!  You’ve got a point. No need to rub it in.”  It didn’t help that young 20-somethings were bouncing up the hill with peppy smiles on their faces and not one sign that the switchbacks were any sort of challenge. I finally arrived at the top. The view was beautiful. The stillness was even more beautiful.

The rest of the day I spent relaxing and recovering from the surprisingly difficult hike.  I was so disappointed with myself that I was determined to go for a longer hike the next day, just to prove I could do it.  So I did an 8 mile hike the next day in the wind and rain, because “damn those 20 year olds!!”  I did it, the 8 miles. I returned exhausted and soaked, but proud of myself, and then went straight to the hot showers. Beautiful hot showers!! 

So after those 2 days of hiking in Big Sur, without any divine spiritual experiences, epiphanies or deep insights, I left a little disappointed and decided to drive down the coast. If you have never driven down highway 1 in California, put it on your bucket list. It’s so beautiful!  I’ve done it a few times now and have enjoyed it every time. Anyway, after driving for a bit, I decided to park my car by a beautiful spot just south of Pismo Beach in central California. It was mid-morning and I opened up Anatomy of a Calling to continue reading. As I was sitting there in my car, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. I looked up and saw a coyote trotting down the road. Mind you, I’m parked in front of multi-million dollar coastal/beach homes. There are rolling hills nearby, but I thought it was an odd occurrence.  About an hour later I saw a small wild boar casually trotting down the opposite direction than the coyote had come. It was stopping along the way, sniffing here and there and eventually was gone.  So strange!  Of course, I don’t live along the coast so I don’t know if it’s a common thing to have wild animals roam the neighborhoods, but it sure was some nice sightseeing.

Time passed, the rain was still coming down and my attention span was waning because I wanted to be outside. My mind started wandering and a humorous thought popped into my head, “Maybe those are my spirit animals.” Over the past 2 to 3 years I have taken an interest in Native American beliefs. I am open to learning truths from all belief systems, but I’ve been particularly drawn to Native American spiritualism and the belief that we’re all connected to the earth, plants, animals, rocks, sun, moon and even those loved ones who have passed. A year or two ago, after a deeply spiritual experience with a patient of mine who was Native American, he explained spirit animals to me. I wasn’t sure it was something that I felt a connection to, but I understood the concept. Since that time, I’ve pondered and read up on spirit animals. So when the coyote and wild boar passed by me randomly, with no other humans around, my mind became curious about the thought of these being potential spirit animals.  Of course, I had to look up the meaning of both.

Coyote: When this animal appears in your life, it’s time to find humor/playfulness amid or through the dark times, seek after and ponder hidden wisdom/meaning in chaos, time to become adaptable and create something new.

Wild Boar: This animal symbolizes tenacity, stability, determination to go after what is most important to you/creating your own reality, using intelligence to gain abundance (not necessarily financial abundance, but that would be nice!), and the courage and ability to use ingenuity to weather the storm.

Hmmm…..interesting.  I suppose any person could take any spirit animal meaning and use it to apply meaning to their life. But also, isn’t that what spiritualism is? In any religion or spiritual belief, don’t believers use the experiences around them to interpret meaning for their life? Every spiritual experience, where or when it happens and what it feels like, is unique to each person. A person may feel peace and calm in their home, or temple, or nature, or with loved ones, or being with their pet. I have had deep spiritual experiences in nature, with dreams, while driving in my car listening to music, during conversations with people I’ve just met and also with those I’ve developed close relationships with. I had a life-altering spiritual experience during a massage once and when I later told the therapist, she said she felt the need to pray over me during the massage. Spiritual experiences can happen anywhere and meaning applied to most anything.

It was foolish of me to assume that just because an author I admired had several spiritual experiences in Big Sur that I would also have an intense spiritual experience there as well. I should know better. But we all crave to FEEL something special. That’s why throngs of people gather in holy places each week or each year. That works for many people and that’s ok. For me, following my intuition, being open to different experiences and giving myself the freedom to FEEL without shame or embarrassment, as well as learning to be in tune to those around me is what makes me feel the most spiritual. And of course, there are always those sweet surprise moments when the universe gives you something special unexpectedly. 

 Perhaps the coyote and wild boar are my spirit animals, perhaps not. But I can still apply the meaning of the spirit animals by using humor, looking for wisdom, being determined, mustering up courage, using my intelligence and being adaptable to create a really fantastic future.