August 2, 2019

Dewey, Arizona

27 foot Camper

I’m sitting on this incredibly comfortable bench seat at the dining table of Kris and Dave’s camper. I have to write every day of this journey, something to post, not just something for my personal journal. Kinda like I did during my Appalachian Trail journey which commenced 5 years ago.

I’m in Dewey, sitting near the Bradshaw Mountains and the sweet wild little town of Prescott. One of my favorites.

It’s monsoon season and I’ve got all the windows and doors open with a fierce crosswind that chills me even with an air temp of 85 F. Apple Weather shows that within the next 42 minutes the temperature will drop 17 degrees and the likelihood of a storm will jump to 60%, but they’re wrong because it’s already here. The thunder, lightening, and dark sky are waking up my tired bones and I don’t care what the weather app says. It’s wrong.

The wind cleanses, moves, clears, promotes expectoration of of the debris in my soul the way Balsamorhiza does to lungs that are just holding on too long to the sludge of illness, even though the infection has passed.

Not that I’m infected or anything. I’m not. I’ve just been through the first phases of another transformation, and like all metamorphoses, the chrysalis must be abandoned once it’s outgrown. The wind of today’s storm is blowing off the dust of days recently passed and out into the openness of all my tomorrows. Whatever they may hold.

It does feel a little like I’m channeling Edward Abbey. Heavens I hope that is true! In the 60’s he spent 6 months living in an camper like this one, in Arches National Monument (before it was paved and accessibilized for the masses), and there he wrote Desert Solitaire. Through his written creation Mr. Abbey had a profoundly enlightening effect on my wee little spirit, providing revelation after revelation of my own similarity, through no more than his descriptions of snake and sky.

Why am I here, in this part of the world, for this duration, in this camper, with these restrictions on interaction and stimulation?

I need that aforementioned change. Not a total destruction of all my old ways; I’ve done that already. Now I’m in the phase of refinement. But some of my old self-imposed or societally expected structures are outdated in the brave new world of Candice. So here, now, I heal the growing pains and discover a little bit more of who I actually am. One thing is for damn sure, I’m ALWAYS on this path.

The thunder just cracked and lightening flashed. Rain drops make miniature splashes on the roof, one of the most soothing of all sounds. Some of those rather make their way through the fine mesh sieve of window screen (THANK YOU UNIVERSE for screens) and their tiny splashes instead land on my skin, prickled by whatever biological action it is that causes ‘goosebumbs.’ My hair, in a sloppy, dirty bun all day, but the fine little wisps at my neck and temples find themselves mangled in eyelashes and caressing collar bones. It is the sensual tenderness of my lover revealing himself to me for the first time, and his name is Storm, a combination of delicacy and unfathomable power.

This part of the world has barely been trodden by the soles of my feet; I have not voyeuristically eplored its ravines and gulleys and country roads, smelled its Piñon and Juniper and Agastache. I haven’t harvested the medicines it offers or offered my song to its spirit. This land and I have not been so intimately involved with each other’s healing, and I long for it, and I have waited for it, for many years, and finally the opportunity has arisen.

There is so much I do not know, and by the time I have learned some more, I will know even less.

And that’s exactly where I want to live my life.

I have 10 more nights (I’ve been here one so far). A longer request felt out of alignment, so it must be that this is Earth’s prescription for me. Immersion in a slower pace, a more thoughtful experience, and exposure to all elements as they exist. 27 feet provides more than enough space to carry out necessary life functions and offers an abundance of footage for enjoying whatever activity I choose in perfectly cozy comfort. There is nothing cramped, and I have everything I need.

For many, many years I have dreamt of a life free from the restrictions of lease, landlord, and liturgical society. A life on the road. A life without so much stuff. Here, as I just mentioned, nothing is cramped. Even though I recently released half of my posessions or more, I still own too many things for the life I want, and reexamining them all upon my return to the low desert is something I anticipate with decluttered calm.

Living on the trail for 7 weeks (you can read about that here) was one of the most joyful, exhausting things I’ve ever done – and I believe a huge part of it being so amazing is that my mind was absolutely void of the thoughts we allow to occupy our mental space with military strength proficiency. Thoughts such as: what am I going to wear today? what am I going to watch on Netflix tonight? what’s happening on the internet? when will I have time to clean my garage? what do we want to eat? how am I ever going to get through this stack of papers? how am I going to deal with traffic in the morning? what shade of eyeshadow goes with these shoes? How am I going to handle this evil landlord who refuses to fix our stove even though it’s been 2 months? (I am still bitter about that).

You get the point, right? We think about a lot of bullshit here in America, and to be honest, I’m tired of giving so much time and thoughtless energy to an unconscious pattern that’s weighing me down.

Hence, the camper.

I didn’t allow myself to bring more than a carryon with clothes and shoes. I brought a few books, food, my computer, and my iPad, since I need to work. There are some restrictions in place for my own good, to prevent me from sliding so effortlessly into patterns I’m trying to break. Therefore, no social media except for work. 1 hour to read texts and important emails each day. No pointless web searches or information seeking. Every single thing I do has to be intentional, restful, and aligned with my greater purpose. Whatever the heck that is – I sure as heck don’t know how to describe it – but maybe you understand because you’re here, reading about it, maybe thinking about your own goals and purpose and travel and dreams and healing. Right? I mean, is that possibly why the universe has brought us to this moment together?

I believe so.

That’s why I’m here in Dewey, Arizona, elevation 4,580 feet, absorbing the sound waves of thunder and channeling them through my soul and out the tips of my fingers to create words that you’re reading, wherever you are, absorbing the soundwaves yourself, they’ve just been converted into 0’s and 1’s and then transmuted into understandable, consumable information, energy, waves of their own, creating ripples in your soul, and maybe, just maybe, out through the tips of Your fingers and into your world.

I trust they’ll find their way back to me. Afterall, everything is just energy, and that shit can neither be created nor destroyed.

Posted by:Candice

Herbalist, adventurer, lover of Earth and all Her inhabitants

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