Nomad by Design Tea Ceremony

 On the second evening I start to make dinner.  I've pulled out my new Death Valley kitchen I made with leftover Japanese Pagoda Wood from the Oakland kitchen.  A young woman rushes over, "Hey, may I look at this?"

I laugh so hard.  "I've never made such a total failure in my life.  It's so bad, it's good."

I run through all the things on the new kitchen that doesn't work, doesn't close, warps, and shrinks.

She's from SF, from Tech.  9 months she's been on the road.  Chucked the life in the City for a life on the road.  Got rid of everything.  No mad by design. (Thanks Tony for that turn of a phrase.  Appreciate it.)

The Covid Moment brought The Great Migration, The Great Resignation, The Great Retirement and The Great Unfettered Mobilement.

In past years staying at Emigrant Campground, there were always a good stream of Nomads coming through but it was usually not by choice but by necessity.  Just didn't have the money for anything else but a home on the road.

This year, though the stream was different.  Single males, single women, families.  In nice rigs with canopies and solar panels and pull out shelves.  Min, the woman from above had a white bike that she put in front of her new white Sprinter that had "You are Love" written in red on it.

She wanted to know what I do out there in the Desert.  "I try to sit.  That's all there is to it."

This didn't satisfy her, so I made something up.

I think where I sit there in Death Valley there are more rocks than there are stars in the universe.  A infinite amount of Random out there with the rocks forming an infinite amount of Patterns.  I look at how Nature is Composing using wind, erosion, rain, gravity and Time to arrange the rocks the way they are.  I'm looking at these patterns so I can Put It in the Bank. (Thank you Cary for that turn of a phrase) Doing something over and over implants it, it's putting it in the bank.

The next day she heads off into the desert and comes over to my area at the end of the day and says, "I looked at the rocks like you said.  But what do you really do out there?'

So I had to make something else up and make some more stuff up the next time we spoke.  Whatever I said wasn't right for her.

I say, "I'm looking for the stream that runs under the stream."

I told her everything I’m telling you is made up, I will start a sentence and have no idea how I’m going to finish it, it’s all fictional.

Still she wanted to hear it though.

She thinks I know something she needs to know.  I start a sentence, not knowing where to go with it. The Arc of Western Science is to understand it all and it does it by slicing up the whole into ever finer slices thinking by knowing the small it can put it back together again.  We are born with all the knowledge we need.  You already know everything.  You're wearing the red ruby slippers, all you have to do is click your heels three times.

Even at her young age, she gets the reference and laughs and looks at her bare feet.

My red ruby slippers fit my feet, only your slippers fit yours so I have no knowledge to share.

I go and sit in the desert for eight days to understand the whole by feeling the whole.

My new friend Sean drove his motorcycle up from Phoenix to spend a couple days in Emigrant Campground, Death Valley with me.  I'm not sure if he's my disciple or I'm his.  He listens to me and I listen to him, he has lots to say.

He somehow finds me out in the desert the first day he's there and we sit out in the heat, in the sun, on rocks and talk for a few hours.  An hour into the conversation, I remember I'm wearing a goofy looking hat I made for the trip.

I point to my hat and "I look like the Flying Nun."

He laughs and agrees.

He's quite young so I say "Do you get that cultural reference, the Flying Nun?"

No, he doesn't so I explain.

Sean is one who understands the sitting on a rock in Death Valley.  I don't need to explain anymore to him.

Couple days, Sean leaves and I found a sketch he made of me under a rock by my tent.

 

 

Morning that I'm leaving, Min, the above woman comes over and offers me a macaroon fortune cookie she made.  I take one.

She says, "So what you do out there, would you say it's a Vision Quest, do you know what that means?"

I say "Yes, I have heard of that grouping of words but no."  "And it's not meditation, it's the opposite of meditation."

So I make something up.

I want life to be one tea ceremony.  One long uninterrupted tea ceremony where each moment is revered for whatever form that moment may be.  Every act is given a reverence and a conviction. An importance. Each act.  The next act doesn't take place until the one before finishes.   It's that simple.

She may have believed that one.

 

My macaroon fortune and Sean's sketch from memory

The Flying None (Thank you Sean for the turn of a phrase.)

It's funny how he missed the year by a year.  He drew it in 2022