Exactly one year ago today---on October 30th, 2009---we woke up in our rig after spending the night in our friend David's driveway, said goodbye and began a journey whose length and breadth we could not predict. Having sold our house and most of our things, quit our jobs, and made the radical decision to hit the open road in search of intentional community and (excellent) adventure, we left our beloved New England for points unknown.
Not several weeks after our departure, our aforementioned friend David took his own life, and an unplanned return to Massachusetts for his funeral threw a temporary wrench into our travels---and our hearts---as we processed the grief and loss that his passing engendered.
Recovering from David's sudden and unexpected death, we continued our descent down the East Coast, visiting friends, family, and intentional communities whose missions or values spoke to us.
For me, this East Coast sojourn was like a long goodbye after 45 years of living along the Atlantic, and my heart continued to open to the West once we took that right-hand turn in northern Florida. We meandered through Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, Texas, New Mexico and Arizona, and there were BBQ's, communities, serendipitous meetings, Laughter Yoga, camping adventures, and all sorts of events along the way.
It was a wild ride, and I must honestly share that even though we were very road weary and ready for a break once we returned to New Mexico following our visit to the Grand Canyon for Mothers' Day weekend, the transition to a place-based life was indeed difficult for me. After so many miles and so much forward momentum, our screeching halt in Santa Fe---although necessary on many fronts---gave me pause as well as a short-term bout of depression.
Now, after five months living at The Commons on the Alameda Cohousing Community and making the most of life in Santa Fe, I see clearly how we all needed this break, and that living only 90 miles from our beloved son and daughter-in-law is sweet and lovely.
We left Western Massachusetts in search of community, with a deep desire for a sense of belonging and sustainable living. Here at The Commons we have fulfilled that longing, and we have immersed ourselves headlong into the life of the community, making the most of our time. We honestly have no idea how long we will stay at The Commons or in Santa Fe, and while we would like to find our "forever home", I'm not convinced that that concept truly applies to us.
One year ago, we took a giant leap of faith into the void, with eight wheels between us and the road that opened up before and beneath us. That road has treated us well, and even though we're now in one place (for however long it lasts), my "traveler's mind" is active, intact, and still brimming with curiosity. Although I love many things about where we are and who we're with, I still feel like I'm traveling, and those 10,000 miles have not really assuaged my itch to further explore the world around us.
There's no predicting where we'll be in another year, but I have no doubt that it will be rich with community, adventure, beauty, and possibility.
Showing posts with label Keith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Keith. Show all posts
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Autumn Bike Ride
Yesterday afternoon, I fulfilled one of my Autumnal desires, which was to bicycle all the way down our street, through downtown Santa Fe, and into the east side of town, where shady streets, ancient acequias (water canals) and lovely adobe homes look radiant and peaceful in the late afternoon light.
At the end of my ride, I was rewarded with carrot cake and a decaf latte at a lovely little cafe we discovered just recently. With great coffee, excellent pastries, the best magazine selection around, a sweet garden, and an adjacent bookstore and photography gallery, the Downtown Subscription Cafe was the perfect destination. The fact that they were playing the music of Brian Eno was just icing on the (carrot) cake!
At the end of my ride, I was rewarded with carrot cake and a decaf latte at a lovely little cafe we discovered just recently. With great coffee, excellent pastries, the best magazine selection around, a sweet garden, and an adjacent bookstore and photography gallery, the Downtown Subscription Cafe was the perfect destination. The fact that they were playing the music of Brian Eno was just icing on the (carrot) cake!
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
A Birthday To Remember
After three days of acute illness, my birthday dawned gratefully on Sunday with a relative cessation of nausea, the blessed absence of headache and fever, and only a lingering malaise that I would not allow to mar my day in the sun.
Mary was kind enough to make delicious French Toast for breakfast with chamomile tea, and following our morning repast, she proceeded to blindfold me and lead me outside for what she termed a "sensory awareness trust walk". Joined by two neighborhood boys along for the fun (and holding Tina for us), Mary led me on a gentle walk through the community, having me touch plants, run my hand along a rough yet somehow smooth adobe wall, and then stop under a tree in the central community plaza to listen to a swarm of bees busily pollinating the arboreal flowers overhead.
I was then led into the Common House, where my blindfold was removed and I was presented with a lovely handmade birthday card. Still not finished with the surprises, Mary then had me sit with my back to her and close my eyes while holding out my hands. A cloth or canvas object was placed in my outstretched hands, and the sound of zippers being opened and closed several times commenced.
When I could no longer bear the suspense (or guess what I was holding), I was allowed to open my eyes to see a miniature "travel guitar" in a cloth case, a gift that Mary was certain would bring me joy and delight. (You see, I very much regretted not bringing my classical guitar on our 10,000 mile journey, and Mary was determined to right that wrong by presenting me with my very own miniature guitar that would take up less space and be my musical companion for the remainder of this peripatetic sojourn.) Needless to say, I'm thrilled, and looking forward to having it restrung with nylon strings for my tender, unpracticed fingertips.
My birthday continued with another return to the Rio Grande 40 miles north of Santa Fe, where we met our son and daughter-in-law for a picnic at a local winery (accompanied by a bottle of local chilled dry rose), and a swim in the river. We also visited the beautiful and special land owned by some new acquaintances in the small town of Dixon.
Ah, a wonderful New Mexican birthday.
Happily, we were visited by dear friends from Taos on Monday, and we spent the evening having a community meal at The Commons and listening to yet another free evening of music on the Santa Fe Plaza. Unfortunately, the music was disappointing Beatles tunes Mariachi-style, so we wandered the streets surrounding the Plaza, visited art galleries, and ducked into our favorite cafe for free samples of gelato.
Walking back to the car, an all-female Mariachi band (Santa Fe's own Mariachi Buenaventura) was playing on the sidewalk across from the Plaza, and the acoustics of the arcade structure above them made their resonant voices carry with great gusto and force. It was a Mariachi tour de force, and the lively crowd spilled into the street, whistling, clapping and singing along as cars and diesel pickup trucks slowed to a crawl, their occupants yelling in Spanish to the musicians.
On the heels of three days of illness, these several days of celebration and birthday fun were sublime, and I am so very grateful to Mary for her kindness and generosity, to Rene and Bevin for meeting us on the river, and for Pam and Bruce, our dear friends of 17 years, for gracing our home with their presence for a brief but magical overnight stay.
Forty-six is looking good, and I am happy to be healthy again and ready for the remaining weeks of our first New Mexican summer.
Mary was kind enough to make delicious French Toast for breakfast with chamomile tea, and following our morning repast, she proceeded to blindfold me and lead me outside for what she termed a "sensory awareness trust walk". Joined by two neighborhood boys along for the fun (and holding Tina for us), Mary led me on a gentle walk through the community, having me touch plants, run my hand along a rough yet somehow smooth adobe wall, and then stop under a tree in the central community plaza to listen to a swarm of bees busily pollinating the arboreal flowers overhead.
I was then led into the Common House, where my blindfold was removed and I was presented with a lovely handmade birthday card. Still not finished with the surprises, Mary then had me sit with my back to her and close my eyes while holding out my hands. A cloth or canvas object was placed in my outstretched hands, and the sound of zippers being opened and closed several times commenced.
When I could no longer bear the suspense (or guess what I was holding), I was allowed to open my eyes to see a miniature "travel guitar" in a cloth case, a gift that Mary was certain would bring me joy and delight. (You see, I very much regretted not bringing my classical guitar on our 10,000 mile journey, and Mary was determined to right that wrong by presenting me with my very own miniature guitar that would take up less space and be my musical companion for the remainder of this peripatetic sojourn.) Needless to say, I'm thrilled, and looking forward to having it restrung with nylon strings for my tender, unpracticed fingertips.
My birthday continued with another return to the Rio Grande 40 miles north of Santa Fe, where we met our son and daughter-in-law for a picnic at a local winery (accompanied by a bottle of local chilled dry rose), and a swim in the river. We also visited the beautiful and special land owned by some new acquaintances in the small town of Dixon.
Ah, a wonderful New Mexican birthday.
Happily, we were visited by dear friends from Taos on Monday, and we spent the evening having a community meal at The Commons and listening to yet another free evening of music on the Santa Fe Plaza. Unfortunately, the music was disappointing Beatles tunes Mariachi-style, so we wandered the streets surrounding the Plaza, visited art galleries, and ducked into our favorite cafe for free samples of gelato.
Walking back to the car, an all-female Mariachi band (Santa Fe's own Mariachi Buenaventura) was playing on the sidewalk across from the Plaza, and the acoustics of the arcade structure above them made their resonant voices carry with great gusto and force. It was a Mariachi tour de force, and the lively crowd spilled into the street, whistling, clapping and singing along as cars and diesel pickup trucks slowed to a crawl, their occupants yelling in Spanish to the musicians.
On the heels of three days of illness, these several days of celebration and birthday fun were sublime, and I am so very grateful to Mary for her kindness and generosity, to Rene and Bevin for meeting us on the river, and for Pam and Bruce, our dear friends of 17 years, for gracing our home with their presence for a brief but magical overnight stay.
Forty-six is looking good, and I am happy to be healthy again and ready for the remaining weeks of our first New Mexican summer.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Fun Friday: Canceled Due to Illness
Sadly, what would have been our fourth consecutive "Fun Friday" was cancelled due to my becoming ill on Thursday with some sort of virus. Neither of us ever had anything more than a common cold or our usual chronic back pain during our seven months on the road, and with only catastrophic health insurance, this is a very good thing. My current illness is most likely a viral infection causing garden variety nausea, headache and malaise, but not feeling well is certainly a bummer, not only because of having to cancel "Fun Friday" but because this is also my birthday weekend (I'll be 46 tomorrow).
At any rate, we're lucky to have the free and unfettered use of our neighbors' home during this weekend and the coming week, a very kind offer which allows us to have an extra 1500 square foot home in which to rest and stretch out. It's a treat, and it also reminds us how much we don't want a house of our own and the responsibility and the (inevitable) accumulation of stuff that that would entail.
One of the nice things about this house is its inner courtyard that includes an outdoor bed that's protected from the rain that recently never seems to fall. (Protection from the ubiquitous flies would be nice, too, but you can't always have everything.)
Here's a daytime view of the courtyard from the outdoor bedroom....
Here I am, reclined in the outdoor bed, nauseous and resting....
And this is a nighttime view (without flash) from my reclined position.....
Mary has been taking very good care of me, and I can only hope that I'll feel better for my birthday. Still, plans to travel up to the Rio Grande again for the day tomorrow may be scuttled in lieu of something less taxing. Being sick on one's birthday is never fun, but I'm grateful that it's a self-limiting illness that will no doubt works its way out of my system soon. And after all, there are many more Fun Fridays---and birthdays---to come.
---Keith
At any rate, we're lucky to have the free and unfettered use of our neighbors' home during this weekend and the coming week, a very kind offer which allows us to have an extra 1500 square foot home in which to rest and stretch out. It's a treat, and it also reminds us how much we don't want a house of our own and the responsibility and the (inevitable) accumulation of stuff that that would entail.
One of the nice things about this house is its inner courtyard that includes an outdoor bed that's protected from the rain that recently never seems to fall. (Protection from the ubiquitous flies would be nice, too, but you can't always have everything.)
Here's a daytime view of the courtyard from the outdoor bedroom....
Here I am, reclined in the outdoor bed, nauseous and resting....
And this is a nighttime view (without flash) from my reclined position.....
Mary has been taking very good care of me, and I can only hope that I'll feel better for my birthday. Still, plans to travel up to the Rio Grande again for the day tomorrow may be scuttled in lieu of something less taxing. Being sick on one's birthday is never fun, but I'm grateful that it's a self-limiting illness that will no doubt works its way out of my system soon. And after all, there are many more Fun Fridays---and birthdays---to come.
---Keith
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Life (in Santa Fe) Goes On......
As summer evolves into what's known as "monsoon season" here in Northern New Mexico, we continue to explore our new lives here, even as we consider how long our Santa Fean (is that a word?) sojourn will last.
Working with my one-on-one elderly nursing client this week, I sat on his porch and watched storms roll in from a variety of directions. Lightning flashed, the winds howled, and the rain came down in sheets in various spots along the horizon, until the storm lashed his little house with hail that pelted the tin roof of the porch like so many bullets of ice. Driving home through the sticky mud, the windshield was spattered with brown dots that the windshield wipers had difficulty erasing, so I stopped at a gas station and cleaned the glass by hand.
Life in community continues to be pleasant, with kind neighbors and community meals that bind us together in various rotating social atoms. We're still newcomers, and renters at that, but there is a feeling of acceptance and welcome that is indeed heartwarming. This evening, we offered a free session of Laughter Yoga, and a hearty good time was had by all.
Settling into routines, I leave home for my various workplaces three or four days per week, and Mary keeps the home fires burning as she feverishly and happily prepares the official launch of her coaching business, a business that I will join when the time is right for me to pursue certification as a nurse coach.
The dryness of New Mexico is both a blessing and a curse, and the dry river beds and arroyos demonstrate just how much water is at a premium here. Driving forty or sixty minutes to find a clean place to swim in nature is no joke, and we realize that spending another summer so water-starved is not necessarily something we're willing to do, even as the community becomes more like home over time.
Biking around the city, I also yearn for a more bike-friendly town where we can tool around without fearing for our lives. Santa Fe has a long way to go in this regard, and bicycle lanes are a rare commodity here in a city where cars fill the streets at all hours. Still, how can one complain when you can drive across town at the peak of rush hour in fifteen minutes?
Santa Fe is a city of contradictions, in my view. While there is a burgeoning movement towards sustainability throughout the city, a movement that manifests in a variety of ways (community gardens, solar investment), there is also apparently unbridled development that surrounds the city and causes our little community to feel more and more like an oasis amidst the chaos of 21st-century consumerism. As an acquaintance wrote to me on Facebook about her experience of Santa Fe twenty years ago: "It's a magical place, despite all of the ugly and ecologically unsound construction and commercialism." She's right. The place is crawling with healers, artists, musicians and creative people doing amazing things, but there are aspects of the city that are simultaneously maddening, including the frustratingly high cost of living (even a simple burrito can cost almost $10).
So, until we decide that our time is up and the proverbial stakes are pulled from the ground, we will continue to make our best of the time we have and get the most out of being here. Santa Fe is an idiosyncratic place, to be sure, and we'll just see what our idiosyncratic selves can conjure up here as our New Mexican lives continue to unfold for as long as the unfolding feels right.
---Keith
Working with my one-on-one elderly nursing client this week, I sat on his porch and watched storms roll in from a variety of directions. Lightning flashed, the winds howled, and the rain came down in sheets in various spots along the horizon, until the storm lashed his little house with hail that pelted the tin roof of the porch like so many bullets of ice. Driving home through the sticky mud, the windshield was spattered with brown dots that the windshield wipers had difficulty erasing, so I stopped at a gas station and cleaned the glass by hand.
Life in community continues to be pleasant, with kind neighbors and community meals that bind us together in various rotating social atoms. We're still newcomers, and renters at that, but there is a feeling of acceptance and welcome that is indeed heartwarming. This evening, we offered a free session of Laughter Yoga, and a hearty good time was had by all.
Settling into routines, I leave home for my various workplaces three or four days per week, and Mary keeps the home fires burning as she feverishly and happily prepares the official launch of her coaching business, a business that I will join when the time is right for me to pursue certification as a nurse coach.
The dryness of New Mexico is both a blessing and a curse, and the dry river beds and arroyos demonstrate just how much water is at a premium here. Driving forty or sixty minutes to find a clean place to swim in nature is no joke, and we realize that spending another summer so water-starved is not necessarily something we're willing to do, even as the community becomes more like home over time.
Biking around the city, I also yearn for a more bike-friendly town where we can tool around without fearing for our lives. Santa Fe has a long way to go in this regard, and bicycle lanes are a rare commodity here in a city where cars fill the streets at all hours. Still, how can one complain when you can drive across town at the peak of rush hour in fifteen minutes?
Santa Fe is a city of contradictions, in my view. While there is a burgeoning movement towards sustainability throughout the city, a movement that manifests in a variety of ways (community gardens, solar investment), there is also apparently unbridled development that surrounds the city and causes our little community to feel more and more like an oasis amidst the chaos of 21st-century consumerism. As an acquaintance wrote to me on Facebook about her experience of Santa Fe twenty years ago: "It's a magical place, despite all of the ugly and ecologically unsound construction and commercialism." She's right. The place is crawling with healers, artists, musicians and creative people doing amazing things, but there are aspects of the city that are simultaneously maddening, including the frustratingly high cost of living (even a simple burrito can cost almost $10).
So, until we decide that our time is up and the proverbial stakes are pulled from the ground, we will continue to make our best of the time we have and get the most out of being here. Santa Fe is an idiosyncratic place, to be sure, and we'll just see what our idiosyncratic selves can conjure up here as our New Mexican lives continue to unfold for as long as the unfolding feels right.
---Keith
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Play-Doh at Work
Now that I'm providing 12-hour shifts of nursing care for an elderly man at his home at the end of a long dirt road, passing the time constructively is important. At my behest, the social worker bought some Play-Doh so that we could try to engage the client in some therapeutic play. Unwilling to touch the clay, he was still able to enjoy watching me make a menagerie of creatures that brought a smile to his face and some color to his world.
-----Keith
Thursday, July 1, 2010
July, July, July..........
Having left New England at the end of October in the midst of autumn's waning splendor, we realize that we have now entered the fourth season of our time on the road. Four seasons have delivered us through more than twenty states and over 10,000 miles, and we find ourselves spending the glorious summer (or longer) in the beautiful high desert of northern New Mexico.
Our little casita is still comfortable, and life in community offers what Mary sometimes refers to as a "Mr. Rogers Neighborhood" experience. The kids play noisily and happily outside the window (with the occasional errant spray through our open windows from their water guns). Neighbors walk by and say hello as they pass. Other neighbors care for Tina while we take care of business or have fun, and we attend community meals, go for walks, bike around the neighborhood, and continue to get to know various aspects of Santa Fe, be they maddening or wonderful. For me, I am more or less adjusted to life off the road, although I still hunger for adventure, novelty and the excitement of travel.
And while we consider what to do with our rig (which we will most likely sell and replace with a different travel-ready vehicle), we are using a neighbor's van and bicycling whenever we can, avoiding purchasing a vehicle for as long as possible.
Meanwhile, I have begun working as a nurse, caring for an older gentleman injured by years of mining uranium. Injured mine workers are common here in the Southwest, and I am happy to provide care for someone who worked for decades underground without knowing that his health was being compromised in the interest of our collective national desire for cheap energy and dangerous weaponry.
Tomorrow is the day that Mary and I joyously celebrate our 21st wedding anniversary, and we will do so here with old friends who are visiting Sante Fe from Washington, DC. Next week, we'll celebrate our son's 27th birthday with him and his wife, enjoying the happy proximity that allows us to see them both so frequently.
And as we continue to test the waters for longer-term living here in New Mexico, we keep our purchases to a minimum and choose to accumulate little that may weigh us down if we do indeed decide to move on. Keeping it "light enough to travel" is indeed the motto (stolen from a song by The Be Good Tanyas), but even so, we make the most of our time and continue to dive head first into life here in "The City Different".
Our little casita is still comfortable, and life in community offers what Mary sometimes refers to as a "Mr. Rogers Neighborhood" experience. The kids play noisily and happily outside the window (with the occasional errant spray through our open windows from their water guns). Neighbors walk by and say hello as they pass. Other neighbors care for Tina while we take care of business or have fun, and we attend community meals, go for walks, bike around the neighborhood, and continue to get to know various aspects of Santa Fe, be they maddening or wonderful. For me, I am more or less adjusted to life off the road, although I still hunger for adventure, novelty and the excitement of travel.
And while we consider what to do with our rig (which we will most likely sell and replace with a different travel-ready vehicle), we are using a neighbor's van and bicycling whenever we can, avoiding purchasing a vehicle for as long as possible.
Meanwhile, I have begun working as a nurse, caring for an older gentleman injured by years of mining uranium. Injured mine workers are common here in the Southwest, and I am happy to provide care for someone who worked for decades underground without knowing that his health was being compromised in the interest of our collective national desire for cheap energy and dangerous weaponry.
Tomorrow is the day that Mary and I joyously celebrate our 21st wedding anniversary, and we will do so here with old friends who are visiting Sante Fe from Washington, DC. Next week, we'll celebrate our son's 27th birthday with him and his wife, enjoying the happy proximity that allows us to see them both so frequently.
And as we continue to test the waters for longer-term living here in New Mexico, we keep our purchases to a minimum and choose to accumulate little that may weigh us down if we do indeed decide to move on. Keeping it "light enough to travel" is indeed the motto (stolen from a song by The Be Good Tanyas), but even so, we make the most of our time and continue to dive head first into life here in "The City Different".
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
A Check-In at Solstice
A belated Happy Father's Day and Happy Solstice to everyone as the summer officially begins (here in the Northern Hemisphere, anyway).
On Father's Day, Mary kindly took me on an excursion to Cochiti Lake, where we swam in the lovely waters and watched families at play and rest. When the late afternoon winds whipped up a dust storm, we bid a hasty retreat from the beach and somewhat wistfully drove through the campground where we happily camped in our rig this past March. Cochiti Dam is a very large structure whose construction inundated hundred of acres of tribal lands, however the tribes have since negotiated a legal settlement for irrigation rights from the waters of the Rio Grande, and the nearby pueblos still farm the land surrounding the lake. (Click here to read my original post from our first visit to the pueblo.)
The high desert is an interesting place to be in summer, and we do sometimes feel homesick for the lushness and moisture of New England. We remember well those summers of biking to the local swimming hole and Amherst's "Puffer's Pond" for a luxurious swim, but we also remember the wretched humidity and hordes of mosquitos that frequently ate us alive. For now, we bicycle to a local municipal pool that's somewhat slimy with sunscreen and warmed from the sun (and the urine of excited children), and we'll frequent Cochiti Lake and a few hot springs that are all generally within an hour's drive.
Meanwhile, I have managed to secure two nursing jobs here in the Santa Fe area, and I will be working for two agencies that both provide care to various homebound populations, including injured uranium mine workers. (If you'd like to read about my experience of being fingerprinted innumerable times since coming to New Mexico, you can read a recent blog post on my personal blog, Digital Doorway.)
As far as our lives here at The Commons on the Alameda cohousing community, we are adapting to our new lives, attending community meals most Mondays and Thursdays, pitching in where we're needed, and getting to know our neighbors and fellow community members. We've taken a shine to several of the children here at The Commons, and we enjoy sitting on our diminutive patio and making small talk with passersby. Here's a photo of Mary and Tina enjoying dinner in the placita (small plaza) nearby our casita.....
Tina is slowly adjusting to life off the road, and she even has several canine friends with whom she enjoys brief playful interactions before she gets tuckered out. She's had a few play dates while we've been out on the town, and several young girls are always willing to sit with her when we're in need. Tina is making progress and can now spend up to three hours at a stretch alone at home, but she still freaks out and shows signs of separation anxiety that continues to discourage us. Hopefully, this will improve with time.
Mary hasn't written on the blog recently because she has been busy completing a training to become a Certified Professional Coach specializing in holistic life coaching. She is now creating a website (stay tuned!) and is offering a free introductory session to anyone who might be interested in finding out what coaching is all about, so feel free to email her at rives59@gmail.com!
We are still exploring the environs of Santa Fe thanks to our kind son who has loaned us his car for a month (a car that we originally gifted to him last year!), and we hope to continue to explore by borrowing a car from a community member who is not currently able to drive. We are hesitant to purchase a vehicle just yet, so being able to borrow a car is a blessing indeed, and we are very grateful for the ease of transportation that this enables us.
In terms of our rig, it is currently undergoing some basic maintenance and repairs, and will most likely be going up for sale some time later this summer. We fully recognize that our journey is indeed not over, but we are feeling pretty clear that a new rig is in our future, and this one will have to pass to other hands sooner than later. The other day, we stopped by the mechanic's place to pick up a few things from the rig, and I had a good cry as I realized that this phase of the journey with the white beast is over. It's a bittersweet moment, and one that is taking some time to fully digest.
This blog is an important venue for us to continue to feel connected with our journey in search of a new home and intentional community, and whereas it may not be as robust as in previous months, we will certainly be posting at least two or three times per week to keep you all abreast of how we're doing.
We wish everyone a happy and healthy summer, and send our love from the dry high desert of northern New Mexico.
Meanwhile, I have managed to secure two nursing jobs here in the Santa Fe area, and I will be working for two agencies that both provide care to various homebound populations, including injured uranium mine workers. (If you'd like to read about my experience of being fingerprinted innumerable times since coming to New Mexico, you can read a recent blog post on my personal blog, Digital Doorway.)
As far as our lives here at The Commons on the Alameda cohousing community, we are adapting to our new lives, attending community meals most Mondays and Thursdays, pitching in where we're needed, and getting to know our neighbors and fellow community members. We've taken a shine to several of the children here at The Commons, and we enjoy sitting on our diminutive patio and making small talk with passersby. Here's a photo of Mary and Tina enjoying dinner in the placita (small plaza) nearby our casita.....
Tina is slowly adjusting to life off the road, and she even has several canine friends with whom she enjoys brief playful interactions before she gets tuckered out. She's had a few play dates while we've been out on the town, and several young girls are always willing to sit with her when we're in need. Tina is making progress and can now spend up to three hours at a stretch alone at home, but she still freaks out and shows signs of separation anxiety that continues to discourage us. Hopefully, this will improve with time.
Mary hasn't written on the blog recently because she has been busy completing a training to become a Certified Professional Coach specializing in holistic life coaching. She is now creating a website (stay tuned!) and is offering a free introductory session to anyone who might be interested in finding out what coaching is all about, so feel free to email her at rives59@gmail.com!
We are still exploring the environs of Santa Fe thanks to our kind son who has loaned us his car for a month (a car that we originally gifted to him last year!), and we hope to continue to explore by borrowing a car from a community member who is not currently able to drive. We are hesitant to purchase a vehicle just yet, so being able to borrow a car is a blessing indeed, and we are very grateful for the ease of transportation that this enables us.
In terms of our rig, it is currently undergoing some basic maintenance and repairs, and will most likely be going up for sale some time later this summer. We fully recognize that our journey is indeed not over, but we are feeling pretty clear that a new rig is in our future, and this one will have to pass to other hands sooner than later. The other day, we stopped by the mechanic's place to pick up a few things from the rig, and I had a good cry as I realized that this phase of the journey with the white beast is over. It's a bittersweet moment, and one that is taking some time to fully digest.
This blog is an important venue for us to continue to feel connected with our journey in search of a new home and intentional community, and whereas it may not be as robust as in previous months, we will certainly be posting at least two or three times per week to keep you all abreast of how we're doing.
We wish everyone a happy and healthy summer, and send our love from the dry high desert of northern New Mexico.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Of Life Off the Road
After so many months and miles, life off the road is, well, different. For myself, I'm remaining open to new experiences, exploring life in the city, looking for work, and settling into our sweet abode here at The Commons on the Alameda, even as I admittedly struggle with the sudden life change that we've clearly needed---and chosen.
In terms of our living situation, there's a lot of good to report. As I remarked a few days ago, cohousing is indeed designed to promote social interaction with neighbors, and there are so many scenarios in which we chat with passersby and engage in conversation on a very regular basis. On Mondays and Thursdays, there is a community dinner which is a convenient and affordable way to break bread with neighbors and share conversation over food prepared by a different community "chef" each time. A menu is posted on the bulletin board in the common house several days prior, and you simply check off your name and, voila, you come to dinner and eat to your heart's content for $4, with containers of yummy leftovers for $1.
Children are a major force here at The Commons, and these lucky kids have incredible freedom and safety amidst this pedestrian haven. There are toys and scooters and bikes everywhere, and kids climb trees, swing in hammocks, play in the playground, and generally have the run of the community from early morning until sunset. Parents here at The Commons have a childcare co-op, taking turns doing childcare for one another as a way to save money and provide the kids with consistent and beloved caregivers rather than outside baby-sitters. It's a brilliant arrangement that seems to keep everyone happy, especially the kids.
Tina is slowly adjusting to casita life, although she still gets incredibly anxious when we leave her home alone. Kind neighbors and several young girls from the community are helping us when we need to leave her for longer stretches, and we hope and pray that Tina will be happier, calmer and more content as time goes on.
Tina is slowly adjusting to casita life, although she still gets incredibly anxious when we leave her home alone. Kind neighbors and several young girls from the community are helping us when we need to leave her for longer stretches, and we hope and pray that Tina will be happier, calmer and more content as time goes on.
In the park just across from us, coyotes prowl the dry Santa Fe River at night, so kitty cats must indeed be kept indoors after dark. Someone also saw a rattlesnake there a few weeks ago, so even here in the city, there is wildlife to consider. And just next door, there's a small horse farm from which I am delighted to hear an occasional whinny floating on the breeze, a sound that always brings me great pleasure.
Despite its diminutive adobe buildings and relatively small size, Santa Fe still feels like a city to me, and actually living in a city still takes some getting used to for this sensitive middle-aged guy who often felt overstimulated in Amherst, Massachusetts, a town of 25,000! Santa Fe is working hard at various aspects of sustainability, but it still seems to be lacking in the areas of "smart growth", bicycle and pedestrian friendliness, and control of overwhelming traffic and automobile-related congestion. The city has a long way to go, in my humble opinion, but also has a lot going for it in terms of it's relatively small size, excellent galleries and shops, and easy access to nature (if, of course, you have a car!).
When it comes to work, over the next few days I will be interviewing for several local nursing jobs and examining ways to bring in some money beyond my various online writing gigs. Meanwhile, Mary has several exciting things cooking which I'll let her write about when she's ready to do so.
In terms of visitors, we've already entertained our son and daughter-in-law for an overnight pajama party, and look forward to them returning so that we can all go see Modest Mouse in concert on July 9th in celebration of our son's 27th birthday. And prior to that birthday extravaganza, Mary's Texan parents will pass through the city at the end of the month, and some dear friends from Washington, DC will be here to celebrate our 21st wedding anniversary with us on July 2nd.
While I miss some aspects of traveling and RV'ing (time in nature, so many beautiful places, the novelty of the road, new intentional communities to explore), I don't miss the rigors of maintaining the rig, emptying the waste tanks, and otherwise dealing with a 12,000 pound rolling beast. I still can't quite accept that we're not packing up and leaving some time soon, but also feel grateful for the respite and peace of mind that having a "landed" life brings.
This blog is admittedly an important way for me to remain connected with our trip, to continue the journey and examine my traveler's navel, so to speak. Whether we're rolling down the road to nowhere or are ensconced here in Santa Fe with a busy social calendar and new people to connect with everywhere we turn, it's still a wonderful life, and we are simply embracing a more solid and grounded milieu in which to thrive, for however long it lasts.
Signing off for the evening as darkness falls on our little corner of "The City Different"-----
Keith
Despite its diminutive adobe buildings and relatively small size, Santa Fe still feels like a city to me, and actually living in a city still takes some getting used to for this sensitive middle-aged guy who often felt overstimulated in Amherst, Massachusetts, a town of 25,000! Santa Fe is working hard at various aspects of sustainability, but it still seems to be lacking in the areas of "smart growth", bicycle and pedestrian friendliness, and control of overwhelming traffic and automobile-related congestion. The city has a long way to go, in my humble opinion, but also has a lot going for it in terms of it's relatively small size, excellent galleries and shops, and easy access to nature (if, of course, you have a car!).
When it comes to work, over the next few days I will be interviewing for several local nursing jobs and examining ways to bring in some money beyond my various online writing gigs. Meanwhile, Mary has several exciting things cooking which I'll let her write about when she's ready to do so.
In terms of visitors, we've already entertained our son and daughter-in-law for an overnight pajama party, and look forward to them returning so that we can all go see Modest Mouse in concert on July 9th in celebration of our son's 27th birthday. And prior to that birthday extravaganza, Mary's Texan parents will pass through the city at the end of the month, and some dear friends from Washington, DC will be here to celebrate our 21st wedding anniversary with us on July 2nd.
While I miss some aspects of traveling and RV'ing (time in nature, so many beautiful places, the novelty of the road, new intentional communities to explore), I don't miss the rigors of maintaining the rig, emptying the waste tanks, and otherwise dealing with a 12,000 pound rolling beast. I still can't quite accept that we're not packing up and leaving some time soon, but also feel grateful for the respite and peace of mind that having a "landed" life brings.
This blog is admittedly an important way for me to remain connected with our trip, to continue the journey and examine my traveler's navel, so to speak. Whether we're rolling down the road to nowhere or are ensconced here in Santa Fe with a busy social calendar and new people to connect with everywhere we turn, it's still a wonderful life, and we are simply embracing a more solid and grounded milieu in which to thrive, for however long it lasts.
Signing off for the evening as darkness falls on our little corner of "The City Different"-----
Keith
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Adjusting and Acclimating
After one week here at The Commons on the Alameda cohousing community in Santa Fe, we are adjusting and acclimating to a life quite different from the one we've been living for the last seven months and 10,000 miles. Community life is so different from the relative isolation of the road, and living in a more urban environment is also quite a change for us.
For me personally, the adjustment has come as somewhat of a shock. Despite the fact that I've been deeply desirous of a feeling of rootedness---if only for a few months of respite from the road---actually landing and making the transition to a "sticks-and-bricks" (or fake adobe) home has certainly taken a little time.
Santa Fe is a lovely place, and it's the only capital city that I've ever visited in the United States that still has a number of dirt roads---and small farms---within the city limits. We've already discovered the plethora of health food stores (six at last count), an excellent bookstore where I plan to spend no money, some great thrift stores, and a favorite cafe where, unfortunately, dogs are not allowed on the patio. Santa Fe is said to be very dog-friendly in many ways, with a multitude of stores that welcome well-behaved dogs on leash, but city ordinances preclude dogs being anywhere near where food is served, so taking Tina cafe-hopping is not necessarily easy. Still, we know at least two places near the Plaza where dogs are accommodated, so we may frequent those establishments when we have Tina in tow.
In terms of adjusting, the relatively constant low hum of traffic and the occasional siren in the wee hours of the morning are something to get used to. Bicycling in Santa Fe is somewhat of a challenge---the city is not terribly bike-friendly, and some busy streets have no shoulders or bike lanes to speak of. There is one bike path in the city that's slated to be expanded in the next few years, but any commuting within the city definitely involves interacting with a lot of cars and trucks that don't necessarily slow down or make allowances for vulnerable two-wheeled vehicles.
Living in cohousing definitely makes up for our aforementioned social isolation. Cohousing communities are deliberately designed to be pedestrian villages where all of the homes face inward towards commonly held outdoor spaces, so interaction with neighbors is almost automatic. When we step outside our door, there are frequently children, adults, dogs and cats meandering the sidewalk that wanders between the homes, and smiles, chats and some more lengthy conversations frequently take place. Community meals on Mondays and Thursdays provide a sense of continuity and connection, and several community members are offering a creative workshop on Saturday morning that we both plan to attend.
Tina is slowly adjusting herself, but still gets very anxious when we leave her alone in our casita. We are slowly helping her get used to the idea, and have also secured several dog-sitters in the neighborhood. She seems quite content in the bigger picture, and it's hard to imagine taking the poor old girl back on the road. We hope she can enjoy this respite, however long it lasts, and then join us again when the time comes to move on.
Yesterday, a package was awaiting us on our front porch: a lovely plant sent by my thoughtful family who conspired together in order to grace our new home with a touch of beauty. We are so grateful to them for their thoughtfulness, and the flowers are happily ensconced on our kitchen table, brightening up the room and bringing the faces of beloved and far away family to mind every time we look at them.
Even though being in the city and leaving the open road has been difficult in some ways, there is also much comfort in stretching out in our casita, doing yoga and exercising right on our own carpet, and making meals without bumping into one another. We also have readily available chemical-free laundry facilities at our disposal, a commercial kitchen from which we can borrow any implements we might need, a shady courtyard next to a bubbling fountain where we can read and relax, and the community exercise room and living room. We're very grateful for this chance to live in community, and doubly grateful that folks here at The Commons have made this little neighborhood relatively safe for us in terms of our chemical sensitivity.
When it comes to activities, there is so much happening here in Santa Fe, and we actually need to pick and choose from an enormous variety of things to do. This weekend, we'll attend The Madrid Gypsy Festival in the nearby town of Madrid, and also meet with several new acquaintances for some food and conversation. The calendar is indeed filling up, and we're pleased that we're connecting with people and things to do so readily.
Meanwhile, I am looking for nursing work, applying for jobs, and working with my mind when it struggles with this recent radical lifestyle change. I'm trying to keep my "traveler's mind" intact, approaching our time here in the city as just another extension of our journey, even though there's a part of me that wonders if the journey is really over. Still, I know in my heart that the journey is indeed still in process, and whether we're in Santa Fe for two months or nine months, the adventure doesn't have to meet its demise just because our rig is parked and we're sleeping in a house that doesn't roll.
These last seven months have been amazing, and I feel that I've grown a great deal in the process. Leaving our home, friends, family, familiar haunts, New England and the East Coast was not easy---in fact, it was the hardest thing I've ever done. But 10,000 miles can change a person's outlook and sense of their own place in the world, and I feel that being in the West is an opportunity to redefine myself on many levels and jettison those things about myself that no longer serve. This adjustment period has been admittedly difficult, and I am still feeling some pangs and pains during the process. Still, I can't deny that a break from the road was in order, and we've landed in a safe place where we can stretch our legs, make new friends, have some fun, earn some money, and enjoy a sense of community for whatever amount of time feels right.
----Keith
For me personally, the adjustment has come as somewhat of a shock. Despite the fact that I've been deeply desirous of a feeling of rootedness---if only for a few months of respite from the road---actually landing and making the transition to a "sticks-and-bricks" (or fake adobe) home has certainly taken a little time.
Santa Fe is a lovely place, and it's the only capital city that I've ever visited in the United States that still has a number of dirt roads---and small farms---within the city limits. We've already discovered the plethora of health food stores (six at last count), an excellent bookstore where I plan to spend no money, some great thrift stores, and a favorite cafe where, unfortunately, dogs are not allowed on the patio. Santa Fe is said to be very dog-friendly in many ways, with a multitude of stores that welcome well-behaved dogs on leash, but city ordinances preclude dogs being anywhere near where food is served, so taking Tina cafe-hopping is not necessarily easy. Still, we know at least two places near the Plaza where dogs are accommodated, so we may frequent those establishments when we have Tina in tow.
In terms of adjusting, the relatively constant low hum of traffic and the occasional siren in the wee hours of the morning are something to get used to. Bicycling in Santa Fe is somewhat of a challenge---the city is not terribly bike-friendly, and some busy streets have no shoulders or bike lanes to speak of. There is one bike path in the city that's slated to be expanded in the next few years, but any commuting within the city definitely involves interacting with a lot of cars and trucks that don't necessarily slow down or make allowances for vulnerable two-wheeled vehicles.
Living in cohousing definitely makes up for our aforementioned social isolation. Cohousing communities are deliberately designed to be pedestrian villages where all of the homes face inward towards commonly held outdoor spaces, so interaction with neighbors is almost automatic. When we step outside our door, there are frequently children, adults, dogs and cats meandering the sidewalk that wanders between the homes, and smiles, chats and some more lengthy conversations frequently take place. Community meals on Mondays and Thursdays provide a sense of continuity and connection, and several community members are offering a creative workshop on Saturday morning that we both plan to attend.
Tina is slowly adjusting herself, but still gets very anxious when we leave her alone in our casita. We are slowly helping her get used to the idea, and have also secured several dog-sitters in the neighborhood. She seems quite content in the bigger picture, and it's hard to imagine taking the poor old girl back on the road. We hope she can enjoy this respite, however long it lasts, and then join us again when the time comes to move on.
Yesterday, a package was awaiting us on our front porch: a lovely plant sent by my thoughtful family who conspired together in order to grace our new home with a touch of beauty. We are so grateful to them for their thoughtfulness, and the flowers are happily ensconced on our kitchen table, brightening up the room and bringing the faces of beloved and far away family to mind every time we look at them.
Even though being in the city and leaving the open road has been difficult in some ways, there is also much comfort in stretching out in our casita, doing yoga and exercising right on our own carpet, and making meals without bumping into one another. We also have readily available chemical-free laundry facilities at our disposal, a commercial kitchen from which we can borrow any implements we might need, a shady courtyard next to a bubbling fountain where we can read and relax, and the community exercise room and living room. We're very grateful for this chance to live in community, and doubly grateful that folks here at The Commons have made this little neighborhood relatively safe for us in terms of our chemical sensitivity.
When it comes to activities, there is so much happening here in Santa Fe, and we actually need to pick and choose from an enormous variety of things to do. This weekend, we'll attend The Madrid Gypsy Festival in the nearby town of Madrid, and also meet with several new acquaintances for some food and conversation. The calendar is indeed filling up, and we're pleased that we're connecting with people and things to do so readily.
Meanwhile, I am looking for nursing work, applying for jobs, and working with my mind when it struggles with this recent radical lifestyle change. I'm trying to keep my "traveler's mind" intact, approaching our time here in the city as just another extension of our journey, even though there's a part of me that wonders if the journey is really over. Still, I know in my heart that the journey is indeed still in process, and whether we're in Santa Fe for two months or nine months, the adventure doesn't have to meet its demise just because our rig is parked and we're sleeping in a house that doesn't roll.
These last seven months have been amazing, and I feel that I've grown a great deal in the process. Leaving our home, friends, family, familiar haunts, New England and the East Coast was not easy---in fact, it was the hardest thing I've ever done. But 10,000 miles can change a person's outlook and sense of their own place in the world, and I feel that being in the West is an opportunity to redefine myself on many levels and jettison those things about myself that no longer serve. This adjustment period has been admittedly difficult, and I am still feeling some pangs and pains during the process. Still, I can't deny that a break from the road was in order, and we've landed in a safe place where we can stretch our legs, make new friends, have some fun, earn some money, and enjoy a sense of community for whatever amount of time feels right.
----Keith
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park
What can we say about our experience at Monument Valley? We arrived to Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park after a relatively short drive from Navajo National Monument and a stop at a local flea market in the reservation town of Kayenta.
Approaching Monument Valley, one is immediately struck by the magnificence of the rock formations that dominate the landscape. Like most tourists, we paid our entrance fee to the park, wandered the Visitors Center, admired the view, and scoped out the guided jeep tours on offer from a dizzying array of tour companies. Being protected and sacred Navajo land, outsiders can drive into a portion of the park if they have vehicles that can maneuver the rutted roads, but only local guides can take you into the areas forbidden to outsiders, and these magnificent portions of the park are beyond breathtaking in scope and beauty.
We negotiated with several tour operators but lacked a feeling of comfort with what was being offered, twice walking away to ruminate on whether the cost was an expense that we were willing to incur. Wandering through the parking lot to return to our rig and leave the park, we ran into a couple from South Carolina who were themselves negotiating the price for a two-and-a-half hour jeep tour. Through a series of conversations with representatives from two different companies, we and the other couple agreed to split the cost of a two-and-a-half-hour tour with a guide who would lead us on a journey that would include the cultural and spiritual aspects of the Navajo and their sacred land. This promise of a deeper experience beyond a simple bumpy ride with a cursory geological explanation made going on this trip a no-brainer, especially since Tina was invited to come along!
As synchronicity and serendipity would have it, our guide Brian Tom was a thirty-something Navajo man of deep spiritual wisdom who guided his jeep over rutted roads with the same aplomb and skill with which he could espouse the creation myths and sacred stories of his people. Not only were we taken to spots of breathtaking beauty and power, Brian drummed and sang ancient songs for us in order to share more deeply the spiritual significance of the formations, petroglyphs and stone sentinels that we were beholding before our upturned and awestruck faces.
Coupled with creation stories, myths, and Navajo tales of humor and humanity, Brian shared openly and honestly with us about the deep corruption within the Navajo Nation’s government and local tribal councils. He also confirmed the prevalence of alcoholism, unemployment, diabetes and heart disease, and the in-fighting and turf wars that continue to plague the wider community.
Many Navajo care deeply for their people, serve in the Armed Forces, and work hard to improve the quality of life for all, but an underlying frustration with the governing bodies who control the purse-strings of the nation is apparent, especially as the Navajo president is currently under investigation for economic malfeasance. We are also acutely aware of how the United States government has itself misled, disenfranchised and otherwise neglected and abused the Native peoples of this land since the inception of our country several centuries ago, even as Navajo and other tribes continue to contribute greatly to the economy, armed forces and rich culture of our nation as a whole.
Many Navajo care deeply for their people, serve in the Armed Forces, and work hard to improve the quality of life for all, but an underlying frustration with the governing bodies who control the purse-strings of the nation is apparent, especially as the Navajo president is currently under investigation for economic malfeasance. We are also acutely aware of how the United States government has itself misled, disenfranchised and otherwise neglected and abused the Native peoples of this land since the inception of our country several centuries ago, even as Navajo and other tribes continue to contribute greatly to the economy, armed forces and rich culture of our nation as a whole.
We have long understood that life for Native Americans is difficult at best, even as sovereign people living within the United States yet not entirely of it. Underneath it all, there is a love for the land and the mythological forces that shaped it and delivered the Navajo from what they call The First World to this world, which is known as The Fourth World.
Not having always been comfortable with Native Americans and understanding how to bridge the cultural divide between us, this experience opened my eyes and heart especially, since Mary had previously spent time with the Piscataway Tribe in Maryland and Virginia, attending sacred ceremonies and celebrations as an honored guest.
At several points during our tour, Brian had us sit and listen as he sang and drummed sacred songs from the Navajo tradition, and we were moved to tears from both the beauty of his voice and his earnest and deeply held traditional beliefs. Brian’s words of wisdom about life, love and community spoke volumes to our hearts, and the gentleness and beauty of the Navajo way of life greatly moved me. As he explained, there are truly no curses or harsh words in the Navajo language as there are in English, and since homes are understood to have ears of their own, no harsh language or raised voices are permitted in traditional Navajo homes where only gentle and respectful communication is welcome.
After our tour, Mary offered Brian a traditional gift of tobacco in addition to a monetary gratuity. Tobacco is sacred to Native Americans and is used in prayer as offerings to the gods and forces of nature that rule the traditional way of life. Moved by her offering, Brian took a bracelet of “Ghost Beads” from his own wrist and offered it to us in return. These beads are used as a means of comfort from nightmares and bad thoughts, and Mary tied this sacred object around my wrist as Brian looked on, and I am wearing them as a symbol of letting go, of welcoming love and ease into my life, and of remembering to be grateful for the many gifts that permeate my existence.
Visiting Monument Valley could have been just another opportunity for beautiful photographs and the enjoyment of an area of intense natural beauty. Rather, it was an experience of spiritual significance and cross-cultural sharing that will long be remembered as a watershed moment for me personally, and for us as a couple.
Our deepest thanks to Brian for the gift of his time, knowledge and spiritual insight, and our humble thanks to the timeless Monument Valley and the many spirits who inhabit and animate this very special piece of the earth.
---Keith
PS: More photos of this magnificent area to come......
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Nomadic Communitarians
Our friend Alan at the Sunflower River Community in Albuquerque wrote on Sunflower River's blog that Mary and I are "nomadic communitarians". Alan believes (and has observed) that there is a growing culture of nomadic Americans who are consciously choosing to live itinerant lives apart from the mainstream norm of being rooted in one geographic location. I have read some theories that nomadic lifestyles will actually become more popular---and necessary---over the coming decades as homeownership and the trappings of the so-called "American Dream" become less economically feasible for more and more individuals and families.
As far as American nomads are concerned, there are indeed a variety of subcultures that we have observed:
Retired full-time RV'ers: Of course, there are the many full-time RV'ers---mostly retired couples---who choose to live on the road and have the economic support of pensions, Medicare, Social Security, and a lifetime of investments and savings. They live in campgrounds, often volunteering as hosts at national parks, national monuments and even private campgrounds in exchange for a place to live and park their rig.
Younger full-time RV'ers: Like us, there is a small subculture within the full-time RV population that are younger, not retired, and either living full-time temporarily as they look for a new place to call home, or who are able to earn enough money on the road without settling down in any one place for too long. Younger full-timers also volunteer as campground hosts, or find temporary work in a variety of industries. Some work online and simply don't need or desire a "sticks and bricks" home at all.
WWOOF'ers: Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms (formerly known as Willing Workers on Organic Farms---www.wwoof.org) is a global network of organic farms that provides opportunities for "WWOOF'ers" to live and work in exchange for room, board and an education in sustainable living. Many young people travel the world as WWOOF'ers, and although a majority appear to be college-age young adults taking time off from school or simply WWOOF'ing over summer vacation, there is apparently a growing WWOOF'er subculture of young adults who see it as an economically viable way of life. Exchanging labor for room and board provides not only shelter and food, it also builds community and a sense of connectedness.
Skilled laborers: In some campgrounds---especially urban ones like in El Paso, Texas---we have observed groups of (mostly) men who travel the country in mobile homes to wherever their skills are needed. Many campgrounds charge anywhere from $150 to $300 per month for a "full hookup" (electric, water and sewer), so a skilled laborer who is able to travel in his or her own rolling home can pick up and move to wherever work is most plentiful. I believe that this will become an increasingly popular way of life as the economy declines in various parts of the country. I believe that those who are most skilled and mobile can best capitalize on the changing economic fortunes in varying regions of the country at any given time.
Homeless youth: I also believe that there is a growing population of homeless youth in the United States, youth who for one reason or another are disconnected from family and community, and live on the road in cities and towns across the country. When we lived in New England, we observed this phenomenon in southern Vermont as well as Massachusetts, and it seems that this subculture of young adults has been essentially ignored by the larger society, and very few services exist to support this group which I see as highly vulnerable. Without universal health insurance, affordable housing and affordable college education, many young adults are essentially left out, and some understandably choose to live an itinerant lifestyle, far removed from mainstream culture.
I'm sure that there are groups that I'm overlooking or forgetting at the moment, and I hope that readers will chime in with comments, additions and questions. Like the Roma (the true name of the gypsy culture), there are many Americans who currently choose to live a peripatetic lifestyle for a variety of reasons. Some may feel disaffected from the the larger society and choose to live on the fringes. Some are simply seeking an affordable and mobile way of life, while others may simply be in transition.
For the moment, at least, Mary and I are a part of the itinerant American subculture, and it is fascinating to observe others who are doing the same, often for very disparate reasons. While we are currently feeling drawn to settle down and grow some roots in a place of our choosing (at least for a while), traveling is in our collective and individual blood, and I have no doubt that we will again be on the road eventually. For myself, I have felt like a traveler for the last twenty years---albeit a traveler who was essentially in one place for most of that time. Our current lifestyle is indeed scratching that itch, and I can foresee a time when we will pull up stakes and create a life wherein we can roam the country---or other countries---earning a living either online or along the way.
In the coming years, as the economic fortunes of the country shift and different regions falter or sputter, those of us who are less invested in any particular place will have an easier time weighing anchor and sailing for more prosperous shores.
The brilliant musician Robert Fripp once called himself "an intelligent mobile unit", and he stated that "the future unit of organization is the small, mobile, and intelligent unit where intelligence is defined as the capacity to perceive rightness, mobile the capacity to act on that perception, and small the necessary condition for that action in a contracting world."
In such a "contracting world" (read "economy"), mobile and community-minded individuals and families may stand the greatest chance of success. Sustainable intentional communities are one way in which groups of people are pooling their resources and preparing for economic times when communal living and the sharing of collective energy will be a source of strength and viability.
Our search for community revolves around the notion that living in community is a way to hedge our collective bets and work together to create ways of living that are indeed sustainable and economically feasible. We hope to find a community where we can live with others and share our gifts, either for the long- or short-term. While we are indeed currently nomadic communitarians, the notion of rooting ourselves to a place, a group of people and a piece of land is beginning to feel like the right course of action, and when that place manifests, our lifestyle will necessarily shift away from the nomadic. For now, we nomads will continue our journey and our quest, and the next chapter of our lives waits patiently to manifest itself before our very eyes.
---Keith
As far as American nomads are concerned, there are indeed a variety of subcultures that we have observed:
Retired full-time RV'ers: Of course, there are the many full-time RV'ers---mostly retired couples---who choose to live on the road and have the economic support of pensions, Medicare, Social Security, and a lifetime of investments and savings. They live in campgrounds, often volunteering as hosts at national parks, national monuments and even private campgrounds in exchange for a place to live and park their rig.
Younger full-time RV'ers: Like us, there is a small subculture within the full-time RV population that are younger, not retired, and either living full-time temporarily as they look for a new place to call home, or who are able to earn enough money on the road without settling down in any one place for too long. Younger full-timers also volunteer as campground hosts, or find temporary work in a variety of industries. Some work online and simply don't need or desire a "sticks and bricks" home at all.
WWOOF'ers: Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms (formerly known as Willing Workers on Organic Farms---www.wwoof.org) is a global network of organic farms that provides opportunities for "WWOOF'ers" to live and work in exchange for room, board and an education in sustainable living. Many young people travel the world as WWOOF'ers, and although a majority appear to be college-age young adults taking time off from school or simply WWOOF'ing over summer vacation, there is apparently a growing WWOOF'er subculture of young adults who see it as an economically viable way of life. Exchanging labor for room and board provides not only shelter and food, it also builds community and a sense of connectedness.
Skilled laborers: In some campgrounds---especially urban ones like in El Paso, Texas---we have observed groups of (mostly) men who travel the country in mobile homes to wherever their skills are needed. Many campgrounds charge anywhere from $150 to $300 per month for a "full hookup" (electric, water and sewer), so a skilled laborer who is able to travel in his or her own rolling home can pick up and move to wherever work is most plentiful. I believe that this will become an increasingly popular way of life as the economy declines in various parts of the country. I believe that those who are most skilled and mobile can best capitalize on the changing economic fortunes in varying regions of the country at any given time.
Homeless youth: I also believe that there is a growing population of homeless youth in the United States, youth who for one reason or another are disconnected from family and community, and live on the road in cities and towns across the country. When we lived in New England, we observed this phenomenon in southern Vermont as well as Massachusetts, and it seems that this subculture of young adults has been essentially ignored by the larger society, and very few services exist to support this group which I see as highly vulnerable. Without universal health insurance, affordable housing and affordable college education, many young adults are essentially left out, and some understandably choose to live an itinerant lifestyle, far removed from mainstream culture.
I'm sure that there are groups that I'm overlooking or forgetting at the moment, and I hope that readers will chime in with comments, additions and questions. Like the Roma (the true name of the gypsy culture), there are many Americans who currently choose to live a peripatetic lifestyle for a variety of reasons. Some may feel disaffected from the the larger society and choose to live on the fringes. Some are simply seeking an affordable and mobile way of life, while others may simply be in transition.
For the moment, at least, Mary and I are a part of the itinerant American subculture, and it is fascinating to observe others who are doing the same, often for very disparate reasons. While we are currently feeling drawn to settle down and grow some roots in a place of our choosing (at least for a while), traveling is in our collective and individual blood, and I have no doubt that we will again be on the road eventually. For myself, I have felt like a traveler for the last twenty years---albeit a traveler who was essentially in one place for most of that time. Our current lifestyle is indeed scratching that itch, and I can foresee a time when we will pull up stakes and create a life wherein we can roam the country---or other countries---earning a living either online or along the way.
In the coming years, as the economic fortunes of the country shift and different regions falter or sputter, those of us who are less invested in any particular place will have an easier time weighing anchor and sailing for more prosperous shores.
The brilliant musician Robert Fripp once called himself "an intelligent mobile unit", and he stated that "the future unit of organization is the small, mobile, and intelligent unit where intelligence is defined as the capacity to perceive rightness, mobile the capacity to act on that perception, and small the necessary condition for that action in a contracting world."
In such a "contracting world" (read "economy"), mobile and community-minded individuals and families may stand the greatest chance of success. Sustainable intentional communities are one way in which groups of people are pooling their resources and preparing for economic times when communal living and the sharing of collective energy will be a source of strength and viability.
Our search for community revolves around the notion that living in community is a way to hedge our collective bets and work together to create ways of living that are indeed sustainable and economically feasible. We hope to find a community where we can live with others and share our gifts, either for the long- or short-term. While we are indeed currently nomadic communitarians, the notion of rooting ourselves to a place, a group of people and a piece of land is beginning to feel like the right course of action, and when that place manifests, our lifestyle will necessarily shift away from the nomadic. For now, we nomads will continue our journey and our quest, and the next chapter of our lives waits patiently to manifest itself before our very eyes.
---Keith
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Of Life, Beauty and Gratitude
After four days of life at Pancho Villa State Park and a few quick jaunts across the border into Palomas, Mexico (today being the day for me to have an inexpensive dental cleaning), we finally made a move and headed towards the town of Deming, not more than 35 miles away.
Our leave-taking from Columbus was slow, with a stop at the border for the aforementioned dental appointment, a quick fix to a faulty valve stem on a tire, lunch in town, and an overdue washing of the rig by an enterprising young man who power-washed months of grime from our 6-ton white beast. We also had to stop at City of the Sun one last time to say goodbye to our new friend with whom we share many commonalities and a wonderfully friendly rapport.
The ride to Deming was absolutely lovely, with yellow flowers blooming across the desert floor and the backdrop of the mountains creating a simply stunning setting on either side of the open road.
After a few errands in Deming, we made our way to Rockhound State Park, yet another strikingly beautiful spot surrounded by mountains and dotted by desert flowers and cacti in blossom. People come to Rockhound to collect rocks and gemstones, and every visitor is allowed to take up to fifteen pounds of stones or gems during a visit to the park.
A friendly couple from the Pacific Northwest who had noticed our rig over in Columbus came by to say hello, and I ended up spending several hours talking with them around their campfire this evening. We shared stories of the road and what it was like to divest ourselves of our former lives and take the risk of creating a new itinerant life, untethered (at least temporarily) by the trappings of our previous incarnation as homeowners. Like us, they sold everything and are in search of a new place to call home, and finding another couple in a similar circumstance is both heartening and encouraging. This level of being untethered can be unnerving, and talking to others having a similar experience can help to normalize it to some extent.
With almost six months on the road under our belt, we have hit our stride on some levels, and on another level we find ourselves pining for some sense of rootedness again. That sense of rootedness will certainly manifest at just the right time, and there's no doubt in my mind that, once rooted, we will once again pine for the wonders and uncertainty of the road. It's all a cycle and a continuing adventure, and I can see that our next chapter post-journey will in many ways simply be a continuation of this very same journey upon which we are currently engaged.
Sitting under the stars around a campfire tonight with new friends, I was struck by just how lucky and blessed we are to be here, to be so free, and to have this opportunity that many people would give anything to have for even a few days. It is a privilege to be doing what we are doing, and when I look at those stars, sense the enormity of the mountains around us, and take in the sounds and smells and sights of the land, I feel deep gratitude for being right here, right now. May I never lose sight of my relative privilege, and may I always connect with the sense of awe and gratitude that my freedom engenders. To be amidst such beauty is indeed something for which to be grateful, and I go to sleep this evening feeling that gratitude deep in my heart.
---Keith
Our leave-taking from Columbus was slow, with a stop at the border for the aforementioned dental appointment, a quick fix to a faulty valve stem on a tire, lunch in town, and an overdue washing of the rig by an enterprising young man who power-washed months of grime from our 6-ton white beast. We also had to stop at City of the Sun one last time to say goodbye to our new friend with whom we share many commonalities and a wonderfully friendly rapport.
The ride to Deming was absolutely lovely, with yellow flowers blooming across the desert floor and the backdrop of the mountains creating a simply stunning setting on either side of the open road.
After a few errands in Deming, we made our way to Rockhound State Park, yet another strikingly beautiful spot surrounded by mountains and dotted by desert flowers and cacti in blossom. People come to Rockhound to collect rocks and gemstones, and every visitor is allowed to take up to fifteen pounds of stones or gems during a visit to the park.
A friendly couple from the Pacific Northwest who had noticed our rig over in Columbus came by to say hello, and I ended up spending several hours talking with them around their campfire this evening. We shared stories of the road and what it was like to divest ourselves of our former lives and take the risk of creating a new itinerant life, untethered (at least temporarily) by the trappings of our previous incarnation as homeowners. Like us, they sold everything and are in search of a new place to call home, and finding another couple in a similar circumstance is both heartening and encouraging. This level of being untethered can be unnerving, and talking to others having a similar experience can help to normalize it to some extent.
With almost six months on the road under our belt, we have hit our stride on some levels, and on another level we find ourselves pining for some sense of rootedness again. That sense of rootedness will certainly manifest at just the right time, and there's no doubt in my mind that, once rooted, we will once again pine for the wonders and uncertainty of the road. It's all a cycle and a continuing adventure, and I can see that our next chapter post-journey will in many ways simply be a continuation of this very same journey upon which we are currently engaged.
Sitting under the stars around a campfire tonight with new friends, I was struck by just how lucky and blessed we are to be here, to be so free, and to have this opportunity that many people would give anything to have for even a few days. It is a privilege to be doing what we are doing, and when I look at those stars, sense the enormity of the mountains around us, and take in the sounds and smells and sights of the land, I feel deep gratitude for being right here, right now. May I never lose sight of my relative privilege, and may I always connect with the sense of awe and gratitude that my freedom engenders. To be amidst such beauty is indeed something for which to be grateful, and I go to sleep this evening feeling that gratitude deep in my heart.
---Keith
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Reflections From El Morro
Over the last few month or so, we have learned what an idiosyncratic place New Mexico truly is. Old friends who lived here in the 60s and 70s had always alluded to the rugged individualism of New Mexicans and the ways in which people consistently reinvent themselves out here, but it is only through first-hand observation and experience that we have now truly seen this phenomenon for ourselves. In fact, it is so intriguing that New Mexico feels more and more comfortable to us both, kind of like finding an old pair of hiking boots that fit so well but were somehow forgotten along the way.
In posts from Taos, we certainly shared our explorations of the Taos mesa and mountains, pointing out how Taos is still an outpost of individualism and creativity despite the difficult economic climate and other factors.
Now, here on the more remote mesas west of Albuquerque, we have discovered another significant outpost of incredible people who live in various intentional and unintentional forms of community, mostly in harmony with one another and with the spectacular land that unites them underfoot.
Here at El Morro RV Park, a lovable cast of characters cooks fabulous food, cares for guests, and provides a sense of interconnectedness and community for most anyone living within a forty mile radius of this sweet spot beneath the cliffs on Route 53.
Maqui, the general manager of both The Ancient Way Cafe and El Morro RV Park, is the central figure around which this community revolves, and folks from the Zuni Pueblo, the Zuni Mountain Sanctuary, and every nook and cranny of this widespread area regularly come to sit at his tables, chat over coffee and consistently delicious homemade food, and share gossip and news from the area. There is even a free Reiki clinic and community drumming circle every week right in the RV park's yurt, with plans for a larger yurt space in the making.
Our new friends Standing Feather and the canine Father Guido Sarducci (among others not pictured) also welcomed us with open arms, paws and hearts.
Across the street, The El Morro Area Arts Council runs the non-profit El Morro Old School Gallery (where we offered a free Laughter Yoga session just this morning), and yoga classes, art exhibits and other activities keep the cultural bar high here in an area that many would perhaps dismiss as "the middle of nowhere" if they were just passing through. In fact, those who live here say that there is often so much to do that one can choose to have a very active social life at any time of year, except when a harsh winter like this one messes with the best laid plans and intentions.
Last night, Maqui and another new friend from the RV park took me along to a potluck dinner at the Zuni Mountain Sanctuary, an intentional community which is part of the Radical Faerie movement, a movement which holds earth-based spirituality and an openness to varying forms of gender identity and sexual orientation as central pillars of its existence. The people at ZMS live an honest and healing life close to the land, welcoming visitors year-round to their magical spot on the mesa nearby El Morro. As a non-profit organization welcoming tax-deductible contributions, ZMS offers creative workshops and gatherings for like-minded people who share their lust for a life of spiritual depth, creativity, open communication, and interdependence.
Today at breakfast, we spoke at length with a middle-aged man who lives at the Zuni Pueblo about forty miles west of here, and he spoke candidly about life on the Pueblo, where the Tribal Council wields power in ways that sometimes pit family members against one another in the interest of land, water rights, and other salient issues of the day. He described life in the Pueblo as being like "a barrel of crabs", and we were saddened but not surprised to hear of the economic strife that plagues so many Native Americans in the Southwest. We visited the Zuni Pueblo yesterday, and it is quite clear that hardship is the norm for many residents of the Pueblo, and making a break for the wider world is often difficult or impossible for most. On the bright side, the hospital at Zuni is considered the best Indian hospitals in the country, although lamentably every doctor and nurse employed there is non-Native American.
Speaking of the Native Americans of the Southwest, we learned over the last few days that the Pueblos (a Spanish word meaning "town") are basically ancestral lands that have been inhabited for centuries by the different tribes, while reservations are lands to which Native Americans were removed when the U.S. government wanted them out of the way. For those living on the nearby Ramah Navajo Reservation, this past winter has been very difficult indeed, and eleven Navajo died this winter from symptoms related to either cold or hunger. So even as we travel our merry way through the Southwest on our journey of discovery, there is quite palpable human suffering just around the corner.
If conditions were not so harsh here on this mesa, we would perhaps consider making a life in this community as well. There is a great deal of richness and diversity almost hidden amidst the cliffs and massive rock formations, but we will, at least, be longtime friends of this intentionally unintentional community that rotates on an idiosyncratic axis fueled by the land, the people, and a common desire to live a good and honest life.
Today, the folks at The Ancient Way Cafe cooked a red meat birthday cake for Tina, and tomorrow morning Mary and others will offer free Reiki at 8am for those who come to the nearby yurt for healing. We will leave a piece of our hearts here in El Morro, and we depart with gratitude for our new friends who provided an experience of coming home to a place that we didn't even know was home, but in fact, turned out to be just that.
---Keith
---Keith
Friday, March 12, 2010
Reflections at Nineteen Weeks
As we pause for a six-day respite here in Las Vegas, New Mexico on the occasion of our nineteen-week anniversary of leaving New England, we are surrounded by natural beauty and reminded of just how lucky we are to be doing what we're doing. Having this beautiful and comfortable home to ourselves is a luxury, and having two horses and an extra dog to care for and spend time with makes it even more special and memorable.
This morning, I got out of bed around 7:15, roused by Zia the Dog, who walked up to the bed and unceremoniously rested his wet nose inches from mine. By this time, the horses had made their way over to the gate adjacent to the sunroom near the kitchen---they were apparently peering into the house in an effort to discern if we were indeed coming to feed them. Lucky for them, I was already dressed, and having fed Zia, I walked directly to the barn, scattering their ration of hay in two separate piles, and giving the Arabian his extra bucket of grain to munch. After cleaning the stalls and cracking the ice in the water trough, I left them to their own devices and went inside for breakfast with Mary. Soon after, we finished the morning routine by filling the myriad bird feeders in the yard, the lucky winged ones feasting on corn, sunflower seeds and homemade suet made from peanut butter, flour, lard and corn meal.
At this resting place in Central New Mexico, we're reaching out to intentional communities in the Santa Fe and Albuquerque areas in order to make connections and to see what communities are open to visitors and prospective members. There are a number of New Mexican intentional communities that are intriguing to us, and we hope to arrange a few visits over the weeks to come. New Mexico is feeling more and more comfortable, and we feel that the state is indeed high on our list of potential places to make a new life.
Next week in Santa Fe, we'll stay with a high school friend of mine and will also visit other friends and acquaintances who live in and around the city, one of whom is a new friend we met recently while visiting Hummingbird Community. We hope to attend a Laughter Yoga session, meet like-minded people, visit the food coop, and possibly make a day trip to Ojo Caliente, a natural spa just an hour to the north. And while we were indeed beguiled by the beauty and friendliness of Taos, the economic situation and milder weather in both Santa Fe and Albuquerque do indeed give us pause. Taos is lovely, but the rough winters, low wages and high cost of living are factors to consider in the bigger picture. Still, it's a nice place to visit.......
Staying in this lovely home, I'm reminded that we both do want to eventually have a place to call our own. Having recently sold a house and most of our possessions, we are loathe to buy yet another house and begin the process of accumulating things all over again. Rather, we would prefer to build a life within the structure of intentional community if we can, preferring to employ simplicity and the need for less as a general modus operandi. Give us our rig, perhaps access to a common house, kitchen and bath facilities, and the camaraderie of life in community, and maybe there's a way for us to create a life that's simple, sustainable, economically viable, and satisfying.
We do not see intentional community as a panacea. Community life takes work, organization and open-hearted communication. It also takes commitment and sacrifice for the good of the whole. Our hope is that there is a community out there where we will be a welcome addition, and where we can offer our skills and gifts as willing participants in an ongoing social experiment in sustainability and conscious living.
So, as the sun continues its arc along the wide open blue New Mexican sky, I ponder what the future might hold, I feel grateful for the present moment, and I look back on our past without regret. Nineteen weeks is a long time to be on the road with so much uncertainty in the air, but nineteen weeks is also long enough to begin to get a sense of what we want and where we're going, even if both of those questions remain partially unanswered.
---Keith
Friday, February 26, 2010
Travel, Travail, Wandering and Wondering
Continuing to read William Least Heat-Moon's Blue Highways, his assessment of the value of travel and exploration keep hitting home, in spite of---or even because of---the inherent contradictions of his words.
Just this morning, after waking up and meditating for a few minutes as the low clouds greeted the New Mexican morning sun, I read "If a man can keep alert and imaginative, an error is a possibility, a chance at something new; to him, wandering and wondering are part of the same process, and he is most mistaken, most in error, whenever he quits exploring." This passage hits home, reminding me of the fact that our endeavor to eschew our former lives and explore the country in pursuit of a new place to call home is indeed an endeavor of wandering and wondering, and moments of error and miscalculation are also moments when possibilities open which may have otherwise gone unseen.
Interestingly, several pages later Heat-Moon quotes Homer: "Nothing is harder on mortal man than wandering", adding that the English words "travel" and "travail" share a common etymological origin.
Our dear friend Paul Woodward from Connecticut has written a wonderful self-published book entitled "Years Wandering and Wondering", and it seems that it's a common denominator of human existence to look back on one's life, assess the extent of one's errors, miscalculations and successes, and draw conclusions based upon that assessment.
I imagine that, one day in the not too distant future, Mary and I will sit back on the sunlit porch of our new happy abode, reviewing and assessing the circuitous path that led us there. Perhaps from that vantage point of hindsight informed by experience, we'll see where we may have turned left instead of right, where we were misguided, when we were trying too hard, where we were totally tuned in, and when we simply allowed the journey to happen without our attempts to direct its course. How I would love to have a glimpse of that hindsight now---just for a second---but then again, that might ruin the game and rob us of the opportunity to commit even more errors that simply need to happen in order to get us where we truly need to go.
At times, the uncertainty of our journey weigh on me, and I long for that glimpse of what the future holds. At other times, I'm keen to continue wandering and wondering with great curiosity and openness to the future.
Our journey has indeed taken many twists and turns. We've gone off the beaten path quite frequently, exploring corners of America not seen from the relative safety of the interstate. We've been lashed by winds on the Mississippi coast while camped on the ruins of a house destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. We've sloshed through the red mud of Palo Duro Canyon, slept in a hotel parking lot, and relied on the kindness of strangers and friends alike.
Now, we're safe in the home of our son and daughter-in-law on this mesa outside of Taos, and the low-lying morning clouds ride the winds, floating over the distant adobe homes and casting shadows on the fields of sagebrush below.
Today I'll stay home and nurse the cold, cough and sore throat that have taken hold of my respiratory tract at a time when being sick is the last thing I would ever want. In fact, I had a nagging cold for the first nine or ten weeks of our trip, and it's only the last six weeks that I've felt basically healthy (aside from the chronic pain that's simply part and parcel of life in my particular middle-aged body---for now anyway).
Soon enough, alight from Taos towards the south, and perhaps our new home is simply waiting for us to find it. Perhaps a few "wrong" turns and miscalculations will be all that it takes to get us there. If it's true, as Heat-Moon says, that our worst mistake would be to quit exploring, then there's nothing for us to do but to continue on according to plan, and hope that we can remain open and flexible enough to allow the future to happen without too much help from us.
Traveling and travail may have the same etymological origin, but that origin from the Middle Ages may indeed be due to the fact that travel at that time in history was fraught with dangers unknown to the 21st century traveler. Our "wheel estate" has most everything we need, and with ATMs, cell phones, WiFi and credit cards, the sky is truly the limit (or is it our credit limit?)
No matter the travails of travel, it's a wonderful way to "reboot" our lives and begin our third decade of marriage. As the singer Conor Oberst once sang, "there's nothing that the road cannot heal", and it seems clear that the road ahead will offer even more healing, adventure and discovery than we can now imagine. One day, we'll write a final blog post from that sunlit porch and reflect on the road that delivered us there, and it's then that we'll truly know that we've arrived.
---Keith
Our dear friend Paul Woodward from Connecticut has written a wonderful self-published book entitled "Years Wandering and Wondering", and it seems that it's a common denominator of human existence to look back on one's life, assess the extent of one's errors, miscalculations and successes, and draw conclusions based upon that assessment.
I imagine that, one day in the not too distant future, Mary and I will sit back on the sunlit porch of our new happy abode, reviewing and assessing the circuitous path that led us there. Perhaps from that vantage point of hindsight informed by experience, we'll see where we may have turned left instead of right, where we were misguided, when we were trying too hard, where we were totally tuned in, and when we simply allowed the journey to happen without our attempts to direct its course. How I would love to have a glimpse of that hindsight now---just for a second---but then again, that might ruin the game and rob us of the opportunity to commit even more errors that simply need to happen in order to get us where we truly need to go.
At times, the uncertainty of our journey weigh on me, and I long for that glimpse of what the future holds. At other times, I'm keen to continue wandering and wondering with great curiosity and openness to the future.
Our journey has indeed taken many twists and turns. We've gone off the beaten path quite frequently, exploring corners of America not seen from the relative safety of the interstate. We've been lashed by winds on the Mississippi coast while camped on the ruins of a house destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. We've sloshed through the red mud of Palo Duro Canyon, slept in a hotel parking lot, and relied on the kindness of strangers and friends alike.
Now, we're safe in the home of our son and daughter-in-law on this mesa outside of Taos, and the low-lying morning clouds ride the winds, floating over the distant adobe homes and casting shadows on the fields of sagebrush below.
Today I'll stay home and nurse the cold, cough and sore throat that have taken hold of my respiratory tract at a time when being sick is the last thing I would ever want. In fact, I had a nagging cold for the first nine or ten weeks of our trip, and it's only the last six weeks that I've felt basically healthy (aside from the chronic pain that's simply part and parcel of life in my particular middle-aged body---for now anyway).
Soon enough, alight from Taos towards the south, and perhaps our new home is simply waiting for us to find it. Perhaps a few "wrong" turns and miscalculations will be all that it takes to get us there. If it's true, as Heat-Moon says, that our worst mistake would be to quit exploring, then there's nothing for us to do but to continue on according to plan, and hope that we can remain open and flexible enough to allow the future to happen without too much help from us.
Traveling and travail may have the same etymological origin, but that origin from the Middle Ages may indeed be due to the fact that travel at that time in history was fraught with dangers unknown to the 21st century traveler. Our "wheel estate" has most everything we need, and with ATMs, cell phones, WiFi and credit cards, the sky is truly the limit (or is it our credit limit?)
No matter the travails of travel, it's a wonderful way to "reboot" our lives and begin our third decade of marriage. As the singer Conor Oberst once sang, "there's nothing that the road cannot heal", and it seems clear that the road ahead will offer even more healing, adventure and discovery than we can now imagine. One day, we'll write a final blog post from that sunlit porch and reflect on the road that delivered us there, and it's then that we'll truly know that we've arrived.
---Keith
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Miles and Miles of Texas
In our quest to reach Taos this coming weekend, we spent today making our way through hundreds of miles of Texan terrain, leaving behind the mild and sunny climate of central Texas (just when signs of spring have arrived) and barreling along the flat, straight highways into the heart of the Texas Panhandle where huge Longhorn steers grazed along the side of the road.
Small Texan towns are frequently graced with interesting and quirky names. Inspired by William Least Heat-Moon's predilection for interesting town names (he would base his travel itinerary on which towns had the most intriguing or funny names), here's a brief and entertaining list of towns spied along the way today:
Texas is an idiosyncratic place, a country unto itself in many ways, and a state whose residents pride themselves in their history and individuality. In fact, it is the only state in the US that is also a republic unto itself and could legally secede from the union and be its own country if it chose to! (We know some of you probably wish they would!). There is so much to see, and so many small towns worthy of at least a brief walk along shady arcaded main streets with their false store fronts and interesting Western architecture. If we had the time (which we usually have plenty of), we're sure many colorful conversations could be had if we spent some lazy hours at a few local watering holes and barbecues (like the one pictured below where Keith took a surreptitious photo from his lap), but alas, that will have to wait for another time.
You see, we are on a mission to get to Taos as soon as we can, a mission which has motivated us to make a 360-degree turn and the longest drive in a single day of our trip yet---almost 500 miles! Phew! We actually made it beyond the halfway point to the little city of Canyon where Mary spent a very happy year of her childhood. We've already driven by the home on her old street (which looks just the same but even better), her old school Rex Reeves Elementary, and the pool and playground where she used to swim and play with her brothers and pals. It's nice to see that Canyon has retained its small town feel and that its downtown and infrastructure seem to be thriving. Canyon has one of the lowest crime rates in the state of Texas, not to mention the lowest taxes. Indeed, the general economy in Texas "es mejor" than most states we've traveled through, yet the Southwest still calls us, Mary's eleven generations of Texas roots notwithstanding.
This afternoon, stopping at a Home Depot in some nondescript town for supplies, we were standing outside the rig when a big black pickup truck pulled up, and the windows rolled down.
"Is that all you?" the young man in a baseball cap asked as he flicked the ashes of his Marlboro cigarette out the window, pointing at our rig. "That's quite a truck you got there." The woman in the passenger seat agreed, and the second young man in the back seat grinned and smoked in silence.
Keith strode over to their truck and leaned on the sideview mirror. "Yeah, it's our only home. We sold everything and hit the road. Now we're looking for a new place to call home."
The man in the truck leaned over towards the passenger side and said, "Well, the Texas hill country is one of the most beautiful places in America. We live near the lake about 20 miles from here. It's quiet, no one bothers you. You could live anywhere here and be happy." He took a drag on his Marlboro and his girlfriend nodded agreement to his assertion.
"Well thanks," Keith said. "My wife's parents are in Georgetown and her aunt and uncle are in Denton, so this is about halfway between them. But we're on our way to Taos to visit our son. We might end up in New Mexico, after all."
"Well, that's too bad, but good luck with your trip and all. That's a fine truck you have there." And with that, they drove away.
The rest of the long drive consisted of oil fields, oil refineries, long stretches of open country and low red cliffs, and the area of Sweetwater which claims to be the "Wind Energy Capital of the Country", where massive windmills dot the landscape like multi-armed titans. Meanwhile, the small oil wells (no photos, sorry!) dotting the vast open landscape resembled arch-backed dinosaurs hungrily pumping away at the earth in their eternal quest for crude.
Even though it's easy to feel judgmental of the people who speculate about, pump or invest in the development of crude oil, it's that very crude that powers our rig, cooks the food on our propane stove, and heats our rig to a toasty warmth on a cold night. Oh the irony of it all.
Slowing down to local speed limits as we entered various towns along our route, we saw signs for custom meat processing plants, an auction of "exotic animals", an archery and taxidermy specialist, a rodeo stadium, a gun shooting range, and any number of car lots packed with pickup trucks, diesel rigs, and farm machinery. Intriguing small town shops beckoned to us in almost every place we passed through, but the miles of open road ahead of us had a stronger magnetic pull than the storefronts, sadly enough. Still, the character of the charming towns left us wanting more, and there's no doubt we'll pass this way again some day.
At this writing, we are "boondocking" in the parking lot of the Canyon Holiday Inn Express, the night manager sympathetic with our need for a free and convenient place to park for the night. Mary entered the lobby, told him our story, and he said "I have no problem with that" when he learned that we would sleep in the parking lot and leave early in the morning to visit Mary's childhood home down the street.
At this late hour, the wind blows fiercely and rocks the rig, and the outside temperature is 47 degrees. With plenty of propane, we're safe and warm in our cozy mobile home, and the sounds of a distant train and the traffic on the street in front of the hotel are no obstacle to sleep (especially with ear plugs). After 470 miles of open Texas roads, we'll sleep as soundly as a rancher stuffed with pulled pork at the end of a harvest day.
Howdy from Canyon with love from Mary and Keith.
Small Texan towns are frequently graced with interesting and quirky names. Inspired by William Least Heat-Moon's predilection for interesting town names (he would base his travel itinerary on which towns had the most intriguing or funny names), here's a brief and entertaining list of towns spied along the way today:
- Novice
- Oplin
- Comanche
- Blanket
- Oatmeal
- Zephyr
- Sweetwater
- Trickham
- Rising Star
- Early
- Tye
- Lawn
- Happy (population 647)
Don't these just sound like they could be the names of horses? Mary bets there are Texan towns named after horses and horses named after Texan towns.
You see, we are on a mission to get to Taos as soon as we can, a mission which has motivated us to make a 360-degree turn and the longest drive in a single day of our trip yet---almost 500 miles! Phew! We actually made it beyond the halfway point to the little city of Canyon where Mary spent a very happy year of her childhood. We've already driven by the home on her old street (which looks just the same but even better), her old school Rex Reeves Elementary, and the pool and playground where she used to swim and play with her brothers and pals. It's nice to see that Canyon has retained its small town feel and that its downtown and infrastructure seem to be thriving. Canyon has one of the lowest crime rates in the state of Texas, not to mention the lowest taxes. Indeed, the general economy in Texas "es mejor" than most states we've traveled through, yet the Southwest still calls us, Mary's eleven generations of Texas roots notwithstanding.
This afternoon, stopping at a Home Depot in some nondescript town for supplies, we were standing outside the rig when a big black pickup truck pulled up, and the windows rolled down.
"Is that all you?" the young man in a baseball cap asked as he flicked the ashes of his Marlboro cigarette out the window, pointing at our rig. "That's quite a truck you got there." The woman in the passenger seat agreed, and the second young man in the back seat grinned and smoked in silence.
Keith strode over to their truck and leaned on the sideview mirror. "Yeah, it's our only home. We sold everything and hit the road. Now we're looking for a new place to call home."
The man in the truck leaned over towards the passenger side and said, "Well, the Texas hill country is one of the most beautiful places in America. We live near the lake about 20 miles from here. It's quiet, no one bothers you. You could live anywhere here and be happy." He took a drag on his Marlboro and his girlfriend nodded agreement to his assertion.
"Well thanks," Keith said. "My wife's parents are in Georgetown and her aunt and uncle are in Denton, so this is about halfway between them. But we're on our way to Taos to visit our son. We might end up in New Mexico, after all."
"Well, that's too bad, but good luck with your trip and all. That's a fine truck you have there." And with that, they drove away.
The rest of the long drive consisted of oil fields, oil refineries, long stretches of open country and low red cliffs, and the area of Sweetwater which claims to be the "Wind Energy Capital of the Country", where massive windmills dot the landscape like multi-armed titans. Meanwhile, the small oil wells (no photos, sorry!) dotting the vast open landscape resembled arch-backed dinosaurs hungrily pumping away at the earth in their eternal quest for crude.
Even though it's easy to feel judgmental of the people who speculate about, pump or invest in the development of crude oil, it's that very crude that powers our rig, cooks the food on our propane stove, and heats our rig to a toasty warmth on a cold night. Oh the irony of it all.
Slowing down to local speed limits as we entered various towns along our route, we saw signs for custom meat processing plants, an auction of "exotic animals", an archery and taxidermy specialist, a rodeo stadium, a gun shooting range, and any number of car lots packed with pickup trucks, diesel rigs, and farm machinery. Intriguing small town shops beckoned to us in almost every place we passed through, but the miles of open road ahead of us had a stronger magnetic pull than the storefronts, sadly enough. Still, the character of the charming towns left us wanting more, and there's no doubt we'll pass this way again some day.
At this writing, we are "boondocking" in the parking lot of the Canyon Holiday Inn Express, the night manager sympathetic with our need for a free and convenient place to park for the night. Mary entered the lobby, told him our story, and he said "I have no problem with that" when he learned that we would sleep in the parking lot and leave early in the morning to visit Mary's childhood home down the street.
At this late hour, the wind blows fiercely and rocks the rig, and the outside temperature is 47 degrees. With plenty of propane, we're safe and warm in our cozy mobile home, and the sounds of a distant train and the traffic on the street in front of the hotel are no obstacle to sleep (especially with ear plugs). After 470 miles of open Texas roads, we'll sleep as soundly as a rancher stuffed with pulled pork at the end of a harvest day.
Howdy from Canyon with love from Mary and Keith.
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