Gain Peace of Mind, Lose Street Ninjas

Dunya, my Dancemeditation teacher, explains the Sufi practice of whirling as an acknowledgment that we always turn toward one thing and away from another. In the brutally heart-wrenching process of ending a relationship I explore these choices:

Gain space, lose companionship
Gain self-respect, lose best friend
Gain self-awareness, lose keys (comical how stress compounds stress)
Gain interdependence, lose sense of isolation
Gain depth and discrimination, lose illusion
Gain self-reliance, lose comfort
Gain tight muscles and fever blisters, lose tears
Gain anger and distance, lose attachment
Gain more truth in my life, lose long pattern of enduring lies
Gain sleep, lose Jackson Hole
Gain fear, lose fear

Gain fear, lose fear? Not a koan, only recognition of the outstanding power in consciously walking through the fire, letting awareness dance in the flames… transforming. Experience fear, lose fear perhaps more accurate. It has been said that our development progresses along a spiral. We revisit key issues from different perspectives as we grow. Multi-perspective insight supports our evolution.

This break-up and concurrent move triggered deep issues of survival, isolation and abandonment (oddly as the one leaving – but it is there). An opportunity emerges to explore interdependence and boundaries in a new light. Deeply grateful for the near decade of deep transformative work on my tool belt, I walk, cry and laugh through the learning exposing new depths to each issue.

Why do Round People Live in Squares?

A design teacher I had in college explained that nature never makes a straight line. Because I learn experientially and want to Know for myself, I look for validation. After minutes, hours, days and weeks of exploration...

Confirmed. I have yet to find a straight line in the wild.

Last night Dan Schmidt brought this home again with talks of spiral built bones, spiral flow and multi-dimensional wonderlands. He mentioned an upcoming exciting new book by Theodore Roszak, "Change Your Body, Change the World." You think there might be a connection?

When I returned from my desert trek I was painfully aware of how inhumane this 'civilization' is. A colleague summed it up as "why do round people live in squares?" After spending weeks in intimate contact with the wild and free flow of nature, returning to fluorescent lights and blocked off walls felt constraining and unnatural. Civilization is so boxy and rigid, lacking the spark of uncontrollable wild.

Last year Bob and I spent Thanksgiving in Joshua Tree National Park for the Yogaslackers Redefining Balance retreat. Jason led us through an asana practice and had us move our mats to the side. He mentioned the obvious truth I had not recognized that most of the time we try to protect ourselves from the elements rather than engage them.

On the RideShare van to work another colleague mentioned that even those of us who play in nature quite often are usually insulated from her touch. If we do happen to touch nature it means something has gone terribly wrong, like we've wrecked on our bikes and our now a dirty pile of mud and blood.

With our health so intimately tied to nature: Engage!

Consciously, willingly and generously.

I find myself hungry for the real, the wild and the free. Movement gets me there, especially in nature. How do you get there?

Photolog - Overview

Overview of my journey in the desert - Most of the pictures are mine, a few are from Bob's camera. Other people you will see in the pictures besides me include Bob, our cats Calvin (the camping cat) and Priscilla, our buddy Jaime, his doggy Lily and our friends Luke and Stacy. Around the middle of the trip Bob brought me fresh supplies and made sure I wasn't under a rock, bitten by a snake or in some other catastrophe. At the end Bob brought our buddy Jaime and his beautiful dog Lily down. After my trip we returned to the same area to climb with friends Luke and Stacy. The really rad music is Apocalyptica interpreting Metallica.

Enjoy:

Moving at the Speed of Elements

1st in the "Dancemeditation(TM) in the Wild" series

Time doesn't actually exist anywhere. We can't touch it or taste it or breathe it. Although we experience it passing, it is a fabrication. Time is a perception we live by in the human world.

Wilderness desert has her own time. What to us is a million years is nothing in desert time. Wind blows, water flows, plants grow and die, mountains erode, stars fall, and life ebs and flows in the depth without regard to being marked on a clock or calendar.

As I absorbed the beauty of the land formed by water and air and reflected on the drop that is a million years, I moved with the elements at their speed.


Air was chaotic and wild, a violent storm bringing life: seeds and the water to open and flourish them. My breath was forceful like dragon's fire. Fast and flinging, my limbs were separate and free. I shimmered like leaves in a gust. Directions changed on a whim and without warning. I was power and freedom embodied.


Water entered hypnotic flow. Curvilinear movements breathed into each other, connecting my awareness to my body - one liquid in a unifying membrane. Arms led the way, opening space for my torso to curve into the space created. My hips, always eager for their turn, widened the bend and my legs waved like s l o w tadpoles following the stream.


Earth brought me into glacially slow, a Dancemeditation practice I first learned at a workshop in Santa Fe. It could take an hour to stand up and turn around. Once in the space, an incredibly deepening practice. A witness of me in the workshop commented that it didn't look like I was moving at all, yet when she looked back at me I had shifted. This is the desert at the land's pace and she appreciated me slowing down to witness her.


Fire lives in me, electric transformation at work. Yet this element I couldn't quite get in movement. I tried explosive and it felt fake. I worked with waves of fire and it felt like flow. As I write this I realize the glow of the sun, the dimensionality aspect of the Diamond Approach 5 Movements practice is how I express fire. She and I are one, I only need sense to embody her, which I do in each interaction with God's creatures. This is what allows transformation to occur where I am the catalyst.

The Last Thursday

Near the end of my retreat I started coming out of contraction. In Dancemeditation the practitioner goes through stages of contraction and expansion, the deep work happens in contraction allowing the open space to occur in expansion. As I emerged from contraction I started turning my focus to what needs to be done when I get home, who I need to connect with... life outside of my Swell retreat bubble. I feel like it has been a good retreat. I know myself better, feel more self-reliant and self-confident. I have had some incredible meditations and great insight, seen a lot of cool things, been able to be calm in scary situations (snakes, spiders...), and have enjoyed the time by myself. Reviewing the last couple of weeks and thinking of wrapping up I feel like it has been a really mellow retreat all in all - nothing crazy, no standard Swell epics. My only regret is I haven't been able to pet a cat (mountain lions roam this area). Considering a big cat could easily eat me for dinner this probably isn't such a bad thing. I see Cat Canyon on the map and figure that a place by the name of Cat Canyon would be a good place to see cats.

My hunt for the elusive Cat Canyon takes two days. On the first day I drive to an old mining area and scramble up near the top of the canyon. I expected to walk a good bit more before getting into the hiking as a lot of the road I took showed unimproved on the map. Unimproved roads in the Swell usually mean impassable in anything but a high clearance 4WD. My 2WD space pod sports car is not the recommended mode of transport for this land. I am surprised that I can drive to the cabins which opens up a world of possibility for travel. Scrambling I get up just above the level of the mines. It looks like if I traverse I can possibly go higher or I can get shut down. I have already made some scary moves I am not looking forward to reversing and it looks like more of the same with greater exposure with the potential of a worse cliff on the other side before descending into the canyon on the other side. Reversing my hike I traverse farther out to see if I can avoid some of the scarier scrambling and find most of it is worse. I slowly make my way back to the car. In my rush to see kitty cats I consider just driving out to the freeway and trying my second option without going back to camp to change my note so Bob can find me if I don't come back to camp for some reason. Luckily good sense prevails and I head back to camp, calling it a night.



The next day (Thursday) I head out again, driving the 30 miles out of the Swell to the freeway. As I merge with traffic I feel myself shift gears inside to match the pace of the descendants of industrial age machines that have replaced solid earth as my companions. I drive several miles down the freeway and re-enter the Swell farther West. As I drive deeper into the desert I see no other vehicle tracks and no recent signs of human activity. Early I came upon a wash that was sketchy so I turned back and went the other way. This brought me into a pretty good wash that I was able to navigate fairly easily most of the way at a maximum speed of 20 mph (although I realized if there was a flash flood I was heading the wrong direction with no ability to turn around and would be in trouble). Along this wash I saw a dead cow and took it as a sign there were cats nearby. Although the cats would have eaten it and not left so much waste, I was on a mission to see them so interpreted unlikely things as signs. Shortly after the cow I encountered a side road that looked like a good shortcut. After .3 miles it suddenly turned into a washed out rutted path and I thought I was stuck. Fortunately Alexa (my car) and I have a good relationship so she pulled through for me even though I had gotten us into this mess. I made a cautious sketch turn to back out of that area and got back to the wash. Now I am on edge instead of just uneasy as I continue down the wash. Soon I gain elevation and get great views of the (La Sal?) mountains to the west and a canyon that looks like a likely cat hangout. At the highest point in the road I notice there is a nice turn around section and think "I should just turn around here and head back, it's late in the afternoon."



Instead, I head down into the next section. The road is steep with a cliff on one side. I have a strong presentimiento as I shift into 1st gear to descend. At the bottom of the road is the sign below. I am 70 miles from the nearest town, 13.3 miles from I-70, no cell service for many miles and no signs of other human life in the Swell for days - REMOTE! I think to myself, "this could be bad" as I head into slippery, slidy, get dug in and stuck sand. My car slides across the road and I know I need to turn around quickly before I get into deeper trouble. I find a spot that feels almost stable, do a quick turn and head back out of the wash. I am definitely freaked out now and remind myself of the basic sand and mud rule - keep going. I feeling pretty good about heading out and feel like I narrowly avoided a disaster.



My car starts to slide, I feel it jerk followed by an unnerving banging/bouncing sound/sensation. I panic and do the one thing I shouldn't do which is stop the car. I managed to get the front wheels dug in as deep as the underbelly.



After assessing the situation I get back in the car and try backing out turning the wheels and just spin in deeper.



So I start digging out sand and building a rock bridge. I'm glad I learned the skill I hope to never use again when Bob and I tried to feed his 4-wheel drive Subaru to the Black Dragon Wash 6-weeks or so before on that ill-fated scouting trip.



I think "this is Thursday night, help will come Saturday" - hopefully Bob can find my note and I took the roads I said I'd take so it will be easy for him to find me. Surveying my situation I realize I have 5 gallons of water in the trunk, glad I kept it there instead of taking it out at camp. Random food will sustain me and I can sleep in the car if needed. Looking around I see limited shade opportunities to escape the punishing sun in the heat of the day. I think about blowing my whistle for help, but since there had been no other signs of human activity or tracks on my ride in I felt like it would only add to my sense of desolation.



Situation assessed I drink some water, chew a little osha root (very helpful) and kept digging and gathering rocks for bridges. It was slow moving, but it was moving.


Encouraged to see progress, in the midst of digging I laughed to myself, "this is still better than work."



Warm sand feels soothing in my hands and along my arms. I have been dirty for days so didn't mind digging in, resting my belly on the warm floor to reach under the car. Rhythmic repeated motion became a meditation. After a few bridges I was able to re-use the rocks and extend each bridge farther.



I notice a harder packed area to the passenger side and think if I could get my wheel there I'll be set. After about 60-90 minutes, fortunately in the cooler part of the day, I finally build the last bridge. The car drives over it, onto the hard pack, up and out of the wash to a big Woot!



My heart pounds quickly with joy and relief, a happy high!





























I did want to test my self-reliance and passed with flying colors even with the presentimiento as I was driving down into that canyon. I had less than half a tank of fuel and used that as the excuse to drive to Green River to feed Alexa and myself. It was time for a burger!

Spa Day in the Swell

How do you create luxurious pampering in a harsh, remote environment? Spa day! Yes, it is possible even all alone, with limited resources, deep in the heart of the San Rafael Swell. I had flowing water, a rich creamy lotion (completely out of place with most of my other gear) and my resourcefulness.

During my time in the Swell I frequented the creek, mostly to ward of sunstroke. When the fiery imagery reminiscent of my heat hallucinations in Costa Rica arose in meditations I knew it was time to soothe fire with water. Usually I climbed into the knee deep creek fully clothed and submerged myself to keep the coolness alive on my skin longer.

After some rough nights and even rougher days I felt it was time for some pampering, hence Spa Day and laundry day. The reason for laundry day was in the interest of simplicity I packed two pairs of pants and three shirts plus fuzzy pants and a sweater for sleeping (and a pair of clean socks and underwear, no bras – yay, for each day). Clearly, everything was filthy. Beyond the requisite desert dust there were tea and food remains, the perma-stench from sweating profusely into the same clothes in the 100+ degree heat day after day, soot rubbing off my cooking pot, random small insects, and unrecognizable particulate matter from whatever floats in the muddy creek: icky (yet heavenly in its own way).

Spa day wasn’t the typical dip and run visit but a nice soak and scrub from head to toe. Despite the obvious dubious benefits of bathing in something called “Muddy Creek” I stripped down at ‘the beach’ and got in, enjoying squishing my toes through the mud while I encouraged my body to slide into the cool water, cringing at the shocking temperature difference. I found rocks to hold my clothes steady so they could wash in the current while I leisurely rolled myself around in the creek, enjoying the cool wash. A light cloud cover rolled in – water letting me know she had my back. I submerged myself completely several times and took my time enjoying all the sights, sounds and sensations along the creek. A beetle came chirping scared down the creek as he had fallen in and I splashed him to the shore. I noticed how nice it felt to help another creature along and contrasted the feeling with the earlier glee of killing a fly that had bitten me. Where along the compassion to self-defense continuum do creatures fall?

As I submerged myself I remembered my childhood baptism at the age of 8 where all parts of person including clothing had to be submerged. Because I had long ago traded in my family’s religion for seeking my truth I decided to repeat my own version of baptism “by the authority granted to me by myself and the San Rafael Swell” washing away the superfluous parts of years past into the cool desert stream. I felt clean, refreshed and renewed.

When I got out of my bath I massaged the ridiculously rich lotion into my skin, especially my feet which I then covered in socks to keep them from collecting even more insane amounts of dirt. I scrubbed my face with herbal wet-wipes and did some minor cuticle maintenance. All in all the best spa day I’ve had in a while. I spent the rest of the luxurious evening wandering wrapped in a light wrap enjoying the cool-ish air as the cloud cover remained until the bugs came out at dusk.

Transitioning Back to Society

Today was my first day back at work after 5 1/2 weeks in meditation/adventure/personal land. All in all it was a gentle roll back into the rhythm of 'work at a desk' life. Full blooms of tangerine colored roses brought the pleasure of scent with the beautiful reminder of the richest colors of the desert into my space.

The afternoon included a nice walk by the Swaner Eco Center. I enjoyed the birds calling and the long grasses waving in the the slow wind, a reminder of listening to the approaching wind through the canyon in the Swell. Dry wind, the faint smell of desert, a small squirrel and a single yellow sweet clover brought me into the depths of feeling at home. I LOVE Summer.

Conversations were interesting and lively as always. Thanks to the indescribably wonderful people of Backcountry I didn't even have to rely on chocolate, my everlasting friend, to make it through the day!