Wild, Extravagant, Bright: Backpacking in New Mexico

“Thomas Merton wrote, “there is always a temptation to diddle around in the contemplative life, making itsy-bitsy statues.” There is always an enormous temptation in all of life to diddle around making itsy-bitsy friends and meals and journeys for itsy-bitsy years on end. It is so self-conscious, so apparently moral, simply to step aside from the gaps where the creeks and winds pour down, saying, I never merited this grace, quite rightly, and then to sulk along the rest of your days on the edge of rage.

I won’t have it. The world is wilder than that in all directions, more dangerous and bitter, more extravagant and bright. We are making hay when we should be making whoopee; we are raising tomatoes when we should be raising Cain, or Lazarus.

Go up into the gaps. If you can find them; they shift and vanish too. Stalk the gaps. Squeak into a gap in the soil, turn, and unlock-more than a maple- a universe. This is how you spend this afternoon, and tomorrow morning, and tomorrow afternoon. Spend the afternoon. You can’t take it with you.”
― Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

Day 1.   If at first you don’t succeed…

I have to admit that I think campground hosts may possibly be the happiest people in the world.  When I pulled into Columbine campground  in the afternoon on a late August Sunday, I was greeted by a merry faced, grandmotherly type with cropped grey hair and a portly but active looking figure.  We talked for a few minutes and I informed her I would be leaving my car and hiking into the back country.  “Ok, honey, here’s my number.  Call me when you get back or I have to call search and rescue.  I worry about you, you know.”  I tell her I will, and she tells me about the first campground in.  She says its been raining every day at about 4 pm.  It’s 2:30.  “But you’re young and chipper!  It’ll only take you an hour to hike in.  You’ll make it.  There’s an old silver mine; you can camp in the cave and you’ll be nice and dry.”  I take my leave, since I need to finish fitting my gear into the pack, and drive off to the far end of the campground where the parking and trail head is.

Backpacking has been my meditation retreat for  the last 10 years.  I have had a fascination with the backcountry for much of my adult life.  I taught myself how to backpack from trial and error in my 20’s.  These days, I  head out for a five day solo at least once a year.  

This trip will be my first such trip in New Mexico, plus I have missed two years due to illness and circumstance,  and I’ve been anxious about it.  I am learning a new skill- hanging food in a bag, instead of carrying a bear canister; and I’m not used to the altitude and climate of New Mexico.  But most of all, I’m not used to the essential wildness here on the south end of the Rockies, and the only way to find out what it is like is to go out there and camp in a wilderness for five days.  EEK!

The trail is about as nice as you can get: a verdant, mossy forest, pine and spruce, and a creek the whole way in.  The creek is big enough to drown out most other forest noise.  The host was right,  I am at the first meadow on the trail in about an hour.  I see the path leading off to the cave and think, “no way in hell am I sleeping in a cave!”  I’ve heard too many stories about large predators making their homes in caves.  I stop in the meadow, set up the tent, square away my gear so it won’t get wet should the looming thunderclouds break, and set about the task of throwing a rock at a tree so that I can hang my food up in the high branches, away from the predations of bears.

About a half hour later, I’m still throwing.  My arm is getting sore.  I’m hungry and the thunderclouds are looming but at least it’s not raining.  I am, somehow, at this point, laughing at myself instead of getting cranky and frustrated.  How can I get upset?  I’m in a beautiful meadow, up in the high mountains, and I get to STAY here for 5 days.  I’ve been seeing this trip as a spiritual journey, and I know that spiritual journeys involve heroes who face obstacles.  I throw the rock again.

Another half hour later, I’ve finally gotten the rock over a branch that is both high enough, and far enough away from the tree, to possibly withstand a hungry bear.  It’s also thick enough at the base to withstand a wily bear who might try to chew through it to get the food down.  I’m proud of myself.  I leave the rope dangling and set about preparing my dinner.  Also dangling is my sweet little orange thermarest stuff sack, from another high branch, around which it irretrievably twisted itself.  This was my failed attempt to do the “Pacific Crest Trail” style bear bag, which utilizes a small stuff sack (to throw the rock up in), and a carabiner.  Yup, lost the carabiner too, and about 5 feet of rope.  I decided that as crafty as throwing a rock at a tree in a stuff sack is, I’d rather just put the rock in a ziploc bag.  I have plenty more of those.

Dinner.  Fire.  I sit by the fire in complete bliss for an hour or two after dinner, watching the sun set behind a ridge.  Camp is set up, water proof and bear proof; it still hasn’t rained, and I am in the wilderness, finally.  Life is good.

Day 2.  Miniature disasters

First task in the morning on a backpacking trip is purifying water for the morning, and the day.  This involves sitting by a creek, pumping water through a little filter, trying to keep the water bottles balanced and upright, dodge the squirts of errant water coming out of the filter (the sun hasn’t come up over the mountains yet, after all!) and generally enjoying the time near a burbling creek.

It’s not a bad way to start the day.  I’m about done with my water- in fact, I’m getting up to put away the filter, when my right foot slips on a wet creek side rock and I go sliding uncontrollably into the creek, and over the mini waterfall that I have been admiring for the last 15 minutes.  As I slide, I hold fast to the water filter and bottle.  I land at the bottom waist deep in water and the first thought that goes through my mind is  the campground host saying, “Just don’t get wet, and you’ll be fine!”  Next, I think to myself, “Ok, don’t panic, don’t freak out, just get out of the water… one step at a time… you’ll figure it out.”  I wade out of the penetratingly cold mountain stream.  The sun has not come up over the ridge yet, so I consider that I could easily get dangerously cold.  Miraculously, I have lost nothing to the stream- glasses still on my nose, water filter still in my hand.  I climb up the bank, set the water paraphernalia in the meadow, and decide that the only reasonable thing to do is to strip down.

Minutes later, the wet clothes are hanging on the branches of a friendly fir tree, I’ve swabbed down with a handy bandana, and dive into the 10 degree down sleeping bag I borrowed from a friend for this journey.  Oh, what a good idea that was!  I spend the next hour huddled in the bag, warming myself, and feeling grateful that this incident happened in the morning, not in the evening.  Temperatures at night here are around 40 degrees or lower, and hypothermia is a real danger, even in the summer.  Hero’s journey, indeed.

Finally feeling warmed, I poke my head out of the tent.  Sun still isn’t hitting the meadow, but soon I hope it will.  I don my wool long underwear, topping it with a pair of shorts and a down vest, and crawl out.  Luckily I was not wearing them when I fell in… backpackers rule, ALWAYS have one change of clothes, even if it is strange.  I belay down the bear bag and set about making breakfast.  I try for a minute to start a fire, but I soaked the fire pit last night and it is impossible, so I get used to the idea of being chilly until the sun rises and start my food.  One of my platypus water bottles is 5 feet away from me across the fire circle, and as I turn away a chipmunk darts into the circle and grabs the empty bottle by its sippy nozzle and begins to drag it away.  It takes some pretty ferocious shooing to reclaim my water bottle and I gather all my gear and food more tightly around me, laughing at the chipmunk’s spunk.  I’m thinking that rodents may be more of a threat to my food than bears.

Day 3.  Lions, Coyotes, and… Bears!  Oh, My!

Having arrived at a new spot the night before, I wake the next morning in bliss.  I’m in a young aspen forest dotted with Jeffrey pine, that amazing tree whose bark smells of earth and vanilla.  The closely spaced young aspen remind me of the bamboo forest in crouching tiger, hidden dragon.  I’m perched on a wooded hill above an actively burbling, if not roaring stream.  I’m in heaven.

The night before, I arrived at this spot, hoping, hoping, to please find a campsite sometime soon.  I’d reached a point of exhaustion one can only reach when hauling 40 pounds at an elevation of roughly 10,000 feet, or more, uphill, for 2 hours.  The sky was full of ominous, grey, looming thunderclouds, and a rumbling noise had begun overhead.  I saw a slight trail off to the left and up a hill.  It seemed like a long shot, but I decided to hike up the hill, pack and all, and was thrilled to see a campsite as well as the Jeffrey pines. These beautiful trees were a relief to see, as the aspen forest I had been hiking through was completely bereft of appropriate branches to hang a bear bag from. 

I’d set up camp at a record pace, getting the bear bag hung with much more alacrity than the previous night, and fairly dived into my tent to huddle, looking out, eating my lunch of rehydrated hummus, zuchhini chips, and cheese, and listening to the roaring thunder above me.  But yet again- no rain.  The clouds passed over, and I decided I was too tired to eat dinner, hung the bear bag, and went to sleep.

Which brings me to morning.  I woke to the whisper of a ghost outside my tent… “who are you?”  Upon arrival the previous evening, the site had definitely seemed a little spooky, with abandoned, weathered gear, but not sinister.  Awake, now, I decided that whispered question was not a very malevolent ghostly action, and climbed out of the tent.  I found myself in the blissful surroundings described above and went about my morning… pumping water, preparing breakfast, eating, washing dishes.  So much time backpacking is spent in the simple tasks we take for granted in our day to day lives.  Morning tasks done and camp squared away, I decided to stay in this site for another night and go for a day hike.  The altitude was really giving me a run for my money.

I set off up hill on a steep hike that even without a pack found me exhausted and taking a long nap in the sun at 11,000 feet several hours later.  What’s wrong with me?  I can usually carry a pack for hours…. I found myself thinking.  I realized that I had set myself a much more challenging trip than I had thought; I had grown cavalier about the altitude, thinking that since I live at 7,000 feet, I would be fine with whatever 10-12,000 could throw at me.  Boy was I wrong!

After my nap in the sun, I ate my lunch, and made my way back down hill to my campsite.  After hiking uphill for two hours, and down for another hour, I was exhausted!  I set about making my dinner and eating, ready to get myself into the tent in record time.  As I finished my meal, I stood up to wash my mess kit… only to see the rapidly retreating rear end of a yearling bear heading down the hill.  Well.  It was nearly sunset, so I figured that the best I could do was keep the camp super clean, head to bed, and …hope that bear was not too hungry.  I learned to backpack in Yosemite, after all…

Day 4.  It’s a Wild, Wild Life

“If you can see your path laid out in front of you step by step, you know it’s not your path. Your own path you make with every step you take. That’s why it’s your path.”
― Joseph Campbell

I woke tired on day 4, having gotten very little sleep.  My worried mind took the bear encounter and ran with it, and I had a very hard time getting to sleep.  Heroes quest, remember?  Now I was dealing with my inner demons of anxiety and worry.  When I poked my head out of the tent, I found my site undisturbed, bear bag safely in the tree, gear unmolested.  OK then.

My goal for this day was to hike up to the ridge (12,000 feet), pop up onto it, and head over to the south side trails along the ski valley road, where I was planning to meet a friend in several days.  However , it was not to be.  About an hour up the trail, I became worried that I had not reached an intersection that should have come quite quickly, and that the trail was heading east rather than southwest as the map said it should be.  I began to come to the conclusion that I was not on the trail I had thought I was on.  After several stops to peruse compass and map, I decided to continue along.  Though I was initially a bit scared, with that anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach, I decided that though I was lost, I was not really LOST.  I was going up, which meant that I was still going in the direction I wanted to be going, even if I was not on the trail I had planned on.  I figured that I would either reach an identifying point, or a place to camp, and would figure out what to do from there.  Worst case scenario, I could follow the trail I was on back down.

After another hour or so of hiking, I came upon cattle leavings- bones, cow patties.  Strange.  After another little while I found myself emerging from the mixed conifer forest I was in into a huge and beautiful meadow.  It was rather like I imagine Lucy’s experience to be in the Lion, the witch, and the wardrobe: a sudden entry into a new and magical realm.  The meadow was simply stunning.
My first thought was how beautiful it was.  My second thought was, I bet I’ll be camping here tonight.

After a half an hour of wandering the huge meadow, carrying my pack and altitude exhausted, I decided to give up on finding the other end of the trail, the one that should be leaving the valley and heading up to the ridge- regardless of whether I was on the intended trail or not.  No cairns, no notches on trees, nothing, and I was too tired to schlep my backpack around the meadow and continue looking.  So, I decided to set up camp, eat lunch, rest, and if I could find the trail out before night fall, then I might hike up in the morning.

The meadow was a full 5 football fields long, 3 wide, gently sloping, surrounded on one side by aspen forest and the other side by mixed conifers.  there was a small creek running down hill to the north, and then cutting down into the forest I had hiked out of.  I was thankful for the beautiful spot, and the water source, which get farther and fewer between this at this altitude.  I estimated i was around 11,000 feet.

Camp chores done, dinner eaten, I rushed to finish the final bits- hoisting up the bear bag, cleaning dinner mess, and such, as the sun began to set and a cool breeze picked up.  It  was going to be a cold night and I wanted to be in my tent at dark.  Which I was.  Satisfied, I read for a few minutes, and tucked in to sleep.

A little after dark I was woken by a very strange and loud sound coming from the aspens to my east.  I thought that perhaps it was an elk, but the sound was eery and I lay awake listening for what seemed to be anywhere from 5 to 15 minutes.  Later, on the trail out the next day, an old timer informed me that the sound was actually a mountain lion, and I found this clip which sounds a lot like what I heard:  (mountain lion: scroll halfway down this page for audio link).  It could also have been a lynx.  I am glad in retrospect that I thought it was an elk, as I was only about a hundred yards from the edge of the aspen forest where the noise was coming from.  The noise stopped, and after a while I went back to sleep.

A little while later, I woke up having to pee.  I was a little bit concerned about leaving the tent after the noise I had heard, but finally ventured out.  The valley was blazingly lit by a full moon that had risen well over the ridge.  It was spectacular.  I peed, and considered laying with the tent open and my head out to look at the moon, but decided it was too cold, zipped up the tent and curled up to sleep.

Near dawn, I was woken again, this time by coyotes.  They were in the valley, very close to the tent, very loud, an entire pack, and they were singing their kill song.  It became clear that they were fighting another large animal, what sounded to me like a bear or a mountain lion.  (But who knows!)  This time, I was scared, and froze like a rabbit, being as still and quiet as possible.  All kinds of thoughts ran through my head…

…a tent is kind of like symbolic protection against this kind of thing…

…wow, us humans have really soft, vulnerable bodies…

…HO-LY SHIT…

…that folk singer that was killed by coyotes in Nova Scotia… they said that was a rare occurrence…

… wow this is not Yosemite… there are so many more humans in California, the animals just kind of avoid us…but here, they are going about their business regardless of human presence…

..how cavalier it was to pitch my tent right in the middle of the meadow, out in the open, no cover….

Finally, after what seems like forever, the noises stop, and it is as if both parties have simply vanished from the meadow in an instant.  I sit frozen, listening, for a while longer, and finally go back to sleep.

Day 5:  Leaving the Enchanted Forest

The next morning, I wake up tired again from all the interruptions to my sleep.  The events of the night before have somehow changed my consciousness.  I have been transported to that place, if briefly, of understanding how ethereal our human lives are, how quickly changed or truncated are the span of them.  I’ve stepped into that gap where my own mortality resides, that place that we as humans are so good at avoiding.  So, though I am tired, I feel fresh in some way- my own place and understanding in this reality has been refreshed.

I eat my breakfast and then sit, thinking for a moment, on my situation.  The amount of time and food I have left is not enough to attempt the over-the-ridge journey I had initially planned.  I am feeling my physical limitations related to the altitude, and I know that I would need several more days to do that trail, several days I do not have food or time for.  Part of being a skilled outdoorsperson is knowing when to stop- when to say no- what your limitations are.  I decide to hike back down to a campground at a lower elevation, camp for the night, and then head out to columbine campground the following day.  While I feel sad to leave the meadow aerie, I also feel like I have received the gift that I came for- and that maybe it’s better not to push my luck.

The descent is fast, so fast as to make the slow ascent feel almost ridiculous.  I am back to the previous nights’ campground in what seems like no time, and I don’t want to camp there again so I keep going.  I reach a lovely campground one meadow above where I stayed the first night.  I’m exhausted again and so I stop to eat lunch and decide what to do.  It’s early enough in the afternoon to hike out, or to set up camp.  Frankly, the thought of throwing a rock at a tree, making a backpacking dinner, pumping water, exhausts me.  I know that it will be work to hike out, and that arriving home is not the easiest transition.  I’ll have to stop by the grocery store and the thought of talking to other people, checking email, or making phone calls is completely unappealing.  However, I am also thinking about the huge clawfoot bathtub in my Earthship’s bathroom, which is set up so that I can soak while viewing the stars and moon out the huge south facing window….

As tempting as it is to be in nature one more night, nurture wins.  I pack out and find myself at the campground in an hour.  I change into clean clothes (another backpacking rule: always leave a pair of clean clothes in your car.  No matter how stinkin’ dirty you are, it’s amazing how much better a change of clothes will make you feel).  I ease my weary feet out of boots and into sandals, and drive to the other end of the campground to check in with the host.

“Oh honey!  If you didn’t come out today I would have called search and rescue!  These bear hunters came in and I couldn’t stop them!  Legally they are allowed to shoot within 100 feet of any trail.  I told them there were hikers up there but they went in anyway!”  Well, that explains the tail end of the bear that I saw!  I tell her about the experiences of the previous night and she, like so many other New Mexicans, asks if I carry a gun.  I admit that I don’t, but that I am starting to feel that perhaps the time has come to learn to shoot and get a gun.  I know this is a politically hot topic, but as they say, “It ain’t California anymore…”  Here in middle America, things are wilder, in so many ways.  I have found myself shifting to accomodate the new climate more than once, and this is another new choice opening itself before me.

The challenge of backpacking retreats, as with any retreat, is to carry that understanding that you have gained in the backcountry into your day to day life.  To keep your daily journey wild, extravagant, and bright.  To not compromise the walking of your path when confronted with prepackaged, “easy” options.

So mote it be.

Safer Camping Through Mountain and Desert West

Part of my healing process has been relocation.  Last summer, after months of arduous preparation and having incurred a considerably higher balance on my credit card, I launched myself out of California, and trekked through Nevada, Arizona, and New Mexico in search of a new place to live.  The trip went smoothly.  I felt incredibly better in the hot, dry, southwest, I found a place to live quickly and … here I am!  I felt that as a service to the growing community of Chemical Sensitive people out there- as well as for people who would just prefer to breathe clean air when camping- that I would publish the results of my research here for others to benefit from.  I’ve also included some excerpts from email letters I wrote to friends and family which help describe the terrain and what you may expect if you travel through these areas.  Happy Traveling!

California san Francisco Bay Area to Taos, Nm via Nevada City, CA and Prescott, AZ

Late June, 2010- I arrived in Nevada City exhausted from the drive and in toxic overload mode.  Highway 80 through Auburn, CA, in between Sacramento and Nevada City, had been sprayed profusely with herbicide.  When looking for a side of the road piss stop, I literally could not find any area that had not been recently sprayed.    Once arrived, I found that the level of mosquitos at night reminded me of blackfly season in Maine.  Even with long sleeves my arms were covered with bites.  I spent several nights at the South Yuba River BLM campground which was blissfully quiet and deserted though a significant drive out of town.

I had a lovely time in Nevada City. I drove around in the mountains and checked out some small towns, swam in the yuba river twice and found a lovely hiking trail.  There are lots of wildflowers- orange recurved native lilies almost as tall as me, california dogwood, and buckeye to name a few.

From Nevada City I drove around Lake Tahoe instead of through Reno  (let me tell ya, that was beautiful but added hours to my drive!!! It is a big lake.  For people worried about chemical exposure driving through Reno, I found on the way back that Reno was not too bad.)  I drove to the northern end of Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest in Nevada and arrived at the dirt road leading to my campground around midnight that night (I told you Tahoe added on hours!!!)  Bleary and exhausted I drove down a packed earth road through the desert for about 20 minutes to reach the Toquima Caves campground.  I was to find out the next day that this is ordinary for Humboldt- Toiyabe National Forest.  The 3 site campsite had only one other occupant and the air was very clean and nice.  I set up my tent and collapsed for the night, knowing I would wake up with the hot desert sun.

The next day I woke exhausted yet feeling strangely refreshed by the desert air and the ever-present Artemisia tridentata, aka, common sagebrush.  Though I tried to rush out of the campsite so I could drive to Prescott that day, I quickly realized that I was too exhausted to do another long drive.  I checked out the caves the campsite was named for, where there were beautiful rock paintings left by indigenous peoples, reminiscent of Australian aboriginal art.  They were very inspiring and I wished I had the time to sit and do a sketch of them.  Out through the desert, I was able to see the wildflowers I had only glimpsed by headlight the night before- prickly poppies, similar to matilja poppies, penstemon,  and many other lovelies.

I drove to a campsite at the southern end of the forest that day, only a several hour drive.  Another 10 minute packed earth road but it was worth it. The Peavine campsite was a 10 person site but I had it all to myself, the day before the long 4th of July weekend began. What a gift!  It would have been more aptly named the wild rose camp site.  With campsites nestled along a small creek, wild roses and clematis were growing every where and the air was thickly honey scented from the many blooming roses.  That fragrance was spiked with the sharp tinge of sage and heat and dust- heaven!!!  Swallowtail butterflies flitted from rose to rose, languid in the heat.  I set up camp, and thought to drive into town to get ice and gas to hasten my leaving the next day, only to find I was 39 miles from Tonapah.  Oh well… NOT!   So, I turned around, went back to my campsite, ate dinner, tidied up camp for the night and went for a magical walk along the creek through a high desert canyon. More prickly poppies, red penstemon, and other wildflowers then I could not name.  I felt right at home in the high desert, so like southern Idaho, where I spent many childhood days visiting my grandparents.  The air was crisp and very clean.

The next day, I drove out of the magical state forest and through Tonopah, NV, where I managed to squeak into the first gas station (downhill side of town!) on empty and fill up.   Moral: desert back roads eat up the gas!!!   I continued on through the Nevada desert- hot hot hot!!!- and Las Vegas – I couldn’t figure out a way around that city – which I must report is huge and ugly.  Guess that’s what you get when you center a place around gambling!  It took about an hour to drive through.   I also went over the Hoover Dam, which is a beautiful canyon turned into a strangely disturbing monstrosity.  Lots of traffic, tourists, and big electrical towers marching up and down the sides of the canyon.  I reflected that Edward Abbey wasn’t far off in wanting to blow the thing up, and wondered if that was why they are checking every single car that goes through for security.  Well, now I can say I’ve seen it!  (Note for travelers, a detour around Hoover Dam adds mileage but is worth it to avoid traffic.)

I continued on to Prescott – lovely country, though I must say, not as exciting to me as the Nevada desert.  At first impression, I was not thrilled with Prescott Valley, which is flat and surrounded by mountains on the horizon.  The vegetation is unassuming grasses and weeds.  The best part is the stars and the wildlife – lots of birds, quail, rabbits, skinks, and lizards-  and the sunsets.  It turns out that Prescott is hugely different from Prescott Valley, being surrounded by beautiful tawny, red rocks and pine forest.  I went for a walk up Granite Mountain in Prescott, which was very pretty with more wildflowers, blooming cacti, and purple, pink, and red penstemon.

The big, amazing thing for me about Prescott is that the air is enormously cleaner than California.  (even Nevada City… sorry!)  Within the few days I spent there I  found myself able to tolerate far more chemical exposure than I would have dreamed of over the previous year.

At this point in the trip, this is how I explained my feelings about the South West: “I have been very healthy overall and have felt that the traveling is a blessing. I have been able to widen my horizons and begin to see a new future for my self in which I have much more freedom in the world.  I feel that the experiences of this trip have been literally cementing the changes in my health- experiences that solidify the neurological rewiring that has happened and prove to me that I am moving forward and healing in my life.  So I am really grateful for that.”

The drive from Prescott to Taos took 2 days.  I arrived there in the middle of a New Mexico thunderstorm, complete with lightning and a double rainbow.  It was quite something driving the twisty canyon road from Santa Fe to Taos in a deluge.  I got into town at around 9 pm, and ended up driving around on rural back routes for about 2 hours trying to find those mythical campsites, the free ones.  Thinking “I hate Taos!!!”  (Seems like my first day or two in every new place, I hate the place!)  I drove up to the ski valley (highway 150- these campsites are actually decent but crowded) at about 11,000 feet looking for campsites but the dark was so dark and there was mist rising from the pavement from that thunderstorm… couldn’t see a thing.  Finally gave up and pulled into a campsite along a small highway (Kit Carson road heading east out of town- i would not recommend these campsites if you do not appreciate car exhaust and noise) and dropped into my tent around midnight that night.  It was the crappiest campsite ever.  Trash everywhere, and as I went to stake my tent, I saw that there was a piece of shiest on the ground right next to my tent.  Also the small 2 lane highway is very busy due to a nearby logging operation.  I switched to another campsite along that road yesterday and now have escaped that area to stay at a friend’s house for the night.  I am tired of the constant road noise and don’t want to be exposed to all that car exhaust, so I will have to look for a better campsite if I do not stay at the friend’s house tomorrow…

So, I am still recovering from all that.  Taos is beautiful.   The gorgeous mountains surround the town, and the ecological conditions are very different depending on the direction the slope is facing and the availability of water.  Today I hiked up a south facing slope that featured a high desert ecology with flowering cacti, pinon and sage; yesterday I hiked up a high-elevation alpine trail with wild valerian, cow parsnip, arnica, monkshood, and birches.  These were within a very short distance of each other.

People here in Taos have told me that the mountain will either suck you in or spit you out, so I have been waiting to see which it would be for me, though hoping if I got spit it would not be too violent.  Taos is a “power center” like Sedona or Hawaii; a place where the veils between worlds are thin-  so people tend to find that the energy either really works for them… or really doesn’t.

I was not sure about whether Taos or Prescott was the right place for me, so I went up to the mountain and had a talk with the plants.  The plants told me that I am needed here and were very pleased about the idea of a new medicine woman wandering the mountain, making medicine and talking to them and tending to them.  So….. my sense is that I need to be in the heart of this wilderness area, at least for the next few years, for my next phase of developement as a human being.  And oh yeah, for those of you who didn’t know, I talk to plants…

Anyway, Taos has been a trip.  The energy here is very wild, not at all sedate, and not at all under the control of humans.  (As if it ever is, but here, no illusions!)  I found out that while the unemployment rate everywhere else has dropped, it has stayed steady in New Mexico- so that the state once on the bottom of the heap is now closer to the top.

from Taos, Nm to San Francisco Bay Area, California Via Prescott, AZ and Nevada

The drive from Prescott to California had a surreal, beautiful quality.  Probably because it was so hot.  I went a little further south than before, through Yuma, AZ, to avoid the Hoover Dam traffic.  Scraggly muscular arms of ocotillo reaching up out of the desert, and heat like a convection oven when I stopped for a break.  All of the rest areas in AZ are closed (possibly due to budget issues), and there’s literally nothing out there, so I ended up getting off at an exit where the road ended abruptly in desert sand about 500 ft off the highway, driving off-road to the shade of a large desert willow, and eating my dinner sandwiched between the train tracks and the highway, hoping none of the atv driving hoodlums who had left all the myriad track marks across the sand would show up.  They didn’t, probably because they are smart enough to wait till dark for their hoodlumery.  Coming towards the site of the Hoover Dam, I discovered the twins of the electric towers I had seen within the canyon marching away from the dam, like a perfect army.  Aha! Delivering electricity created at the dam to places far and wide, I supposed.  Very interesting.  And ugly.

Back through Nevada, which I must say gets a bad rap.  Though harsh, it is a beautiful state, but mostly ends up being the place people drive through to get to California.  Mountains like torn paper, harsh edges receding into lighter and lighter shades of blue in the distance, becoming suddenly like crumpled paper and losing their harsh edges as I got closer.  Ghost towns and near ghost towns full of the half-ruined structures of the gold rush.  And lots of petroglyphs.  I found another petroglyph site on my way back through, huge boulders strewn across the desert on the shores of what once was an ancient lake, where hunters had carved spirals and many other designs into the boulders.  Beautiful, stark.  And an air force base right across the highway, so the quiet awe of the archaeological site was punctuated by the sound of sophisticated jet fighters taking off and whizzing away through the sky, creating their own spirals of complex manoeuvres.

California

South Yuba Campground,  Nevada City, CA

BLM Folsom Field Office 916-985-4474

Follow signs from North Bloomfield Road in Nevada City.  Cross the Yuba river on a one lane bridge after a steep paved down hill road twisting and turning through the canyon.  After climbing the steep, unpaved, rutted road on the other side there will be an easy to miss “South Yuba River BLM” sign that points to parking on the right.  Enter that driveway.  Drive takes about 30 minutes from Nevada City.

The 16 site campground had only a few campers when I visited in June. No herbicide use evident.  $5- self pay, pit toilet w/ chemicals and DIY air freshener, picnic tables and barbecue pits, potable water available.  Near swimming area on river, you may need a 4WD/ high clearance vehicle.  Plan to get to campground before dark.

Mojave National Preserve (CALIFORNIA BORDER)

Visitor Info 760-252-6100                                                      group campsite reservations 760-928-2572

Midhill Campground: 26 campsites, unpaved road, no herbicides and pesticides used.  Warning:  In July and August, this area may be unbearably hot, even at night.  One friend I know gave up on camping and ended up in an air conditioned hotel room when passing through this area.

Nevada

Red Rock National Conservation Area (BLM)             775-861-6400 Las Vegas Field Office 702-515-5371              or  515-5371

I have not camped here.  It is very close to the City of Las Vegas, so may be very crowded and more polluted.  One chemically sensitive friend I know tried to camp here and was miserable.  Not recommended for severely sensitive folks.  Also, of all the camping areas I tried to contact, the people in charge of this one were the least helpful.

Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest Austin District  775-964-2671Tonopah district 775-482-6286

Employees at the Austin ranger district told me they don’t spray campgrounds regularly with herbicides and pesticides.  However, noxious weeds are sprayed and they cannot predict when or where.  I recommend you call before using campgrounds if you are sensitive.  Folks at the ranger district were VERY helpful and non judgemental.  The summer I visited Humboldt-Toyabe, campgrounds were not sprayed, presumably due to budget concerns.   There are also three wilderness areas within Humboldt-Toiyabe that are NOT sprayed.

Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest is spread throughout the state of Nevada in sizeable chunks.  The land is isolated and extremely rural charactarized by high desert flora and fauna such as sagebrush, jackrabbits, prickly poppy, and penstemon.  I found the air to be incredibly clean and the landscape beautiful in a stark, desert way. Highway 50 “loneliest highway in the USA” is beautiful but make sure to fill up on gas frequently and stop in Austin to check out the cool little town- don’t blink, you’ll miss it!  You will also find many sites along the way with archeology, petroglyphs, and other Native American artifacts.  Sites in the Humboldt-Toyabe National Forest charactaristically feature a long (7+ mile) drive off the paved road on packed earth roads to the campgrounds.  Due to that they are not generally packed with people.  Some roads may require a 4wd/ high clearance vehicle and signage is sparse once off the main highway.  I recommend getting there before sunset, and purchasing a map of the area you would like to camp in from the national forest service, as many of these roads are not included on your standard road/ travel map.

Toquima caves- No spraying of herbicide or pesticide in this campground.  Gorgeous, high desert, HOT and very little shade.  A good 10-20 min off the main road on a bumpy packed earth road.*** Poor or no signage once off the main road.  Try and get there before dark, driving there in the dark is a bit nerve wracking.  There is a cave with really cool rock art that is a short hike from the campground.  Free, no potable water, approx. 3 campgrounds with picnic tables and a pit toilet with little chemical smell noticeable.

Bob Scott– This is the most accessible from highway 50, it is right off the road and not far from the small town of Austin.  I have not camped there but Austin Ranger district seemed to think it may be sprayed some years, so call ahead.

Kingston–  This campground may be sprayed with herbicide once a season some years, if you call they may be able to tell you when. Creek water to drink, bring purifying equipment, 5 miles off turnoff from highway, 5 tent or RV sites.

Peavine- Another campground down a packed earth rd- about 10 miles off the main road.  Take 376 south from 50 before you reach Austin; the turn off for Peavine is on the right with signage and only about 40 miles north of Tonopah.  You will proceed 9 miles to the campground.  The road crosses a creek, and is very primitive.   A vehicle with high clearance or 4wd is recommended.  No potable drinking water, though there is a creek from which you can drink purified water- bring your water purification system.  10 sites + 1 group site.  No reservations.  Free.  My sense was that this campground would normally be sprayed once a season- it was very overgrown when I visited it, call to check before visiting if you are sensitive.  Please note that this area is very hot in the summer, and is also isolated.  Fill up on gas and ice before you turn onto 376.  A cooler full of ice will melt in one day and the nearest town is one hour away.

This is a beautiful creekside campground, which was either empty or had one other group of campers when I visited.  One time was the Fourth of July, and it was still empty.  The creek is surrounded by a proliferation of wild roses that cause the air to smell like honey. There are lots of swallowtail butterflies, too.  Beware the mosquitos at night.  You can hike along the creek a ways during the day or drive further into the desert canyon.  There is hiking nearby in arc dome wilderness.  The creek and shaded areas along it mitigate the heat somewhat.

Big Creek- Water available from creek, must purify it.  5 campsites and one group site.  No reservations, 12 miles off highway.

Columbine- Creek water to drink. Bring purification system.  5 campsites, no reservations, 17 miles off main road.

Lake Mead national recreation area Nevada/ Arizona border

The contact person for this campground was unable to tell me whether herbicides and pesticides are used in this recreation area.  Contact them to find out before going if you are sensitive.   I did not camp here because the campgrounds were so big and popular, I figured that smaller, less popular campgrounds would be better for me.  This area is also going to be incredibly hot in the height of the summer.

Boulder Beach campground- 140 sites, popular- more shade, $10/ night.

Cottonwood Cove– very popular campgoround.  1st come 1st serve.  no showers, flush toilets, picnic tables, running water, 149 campsites.  Shower and laundry at marina resort area, within walking distance.  Resort area with hotels.

Arizona

In my experience, Arizona tends to more heavy handed in thier use of chemical herbicides, pesticides, and fire suppressants than other states I visited.  I recommend caution when camping in Arizona, and would recommend calling ahead to areas you are interested in camping.  They will tell you if they are spraying and often the website will have information posted.  Keep in mind that chemicals are often used during and after forest fires.

Lake Havasu (Arizona/ California Border)

1 campground, 46 spots.  They do not spray herbicide or pesticide, but there is a laundry area and the campground is right next to Lake Havasu City, so the air may not be the cleanest.  I did not camp here, preferring smaller, less popular campsites.

Warm Springs Wilderness – near YUCCA, AZ 928-718-3700 KFOWEB_AZ@blm.gov

You may camp wherever you like within the wilderness area, however, roads are primitive.  There are restrictions on fires. Warning- this area is EXTREMELY hot in July and August.  Warm Springs is bordered on one side by route 66, the other by highway 40, and is near Kingman, AZ and the California border.  All roads going into the wilderness are “Unimproved roads (Jeep Trails)”.  I recommend a high clearance/ 4wd vehicle for camping in this area.

Painted Desert/ Petrified Forest National Park 928-524-6228

There are no herbicides or pesticides used in the park.  There are wilderness areas where you can hike in and camp with a permit, but no campgrounds.  You must hike at least one mile in and be in your space by 6 pm.  You must get the backcountry permit at the visitor center.

Prescott National Forest

The summer of 2010, I refrained from camping in the Prescott National Forest.  There were forest fires near Flagstaff, and in addition to fire suppressant chemicals being sprayed in the region, the burned areas were also being sprayed with herbicides to prevent noxious weeds from growing.  There is one really nice campground that is very close to the city of Prescott that I would recommend checking out.

Kaibob National Forest

In the summer of 2010, the forest service was spraying for noxious weeds in the Williams district and in the Kendrick mountain area.  I refrained from camping in Kaibob.

New Mexico

Cibolla National Forest  505-346-3900                                  mount taylor ranger district 505-287-8833

Quaking Aspen Campground  7,600 ft el., 20 sites, $5-  7 miles from highway 40 between Grants and Gallup.  Take Fort Wingate exit from 40 and go right towards Fort Wingate.  Pass the fort and the campground will be on the right 7 miles after leaving the freeway.  Gorgeous, clean, well maintained campsite.  Self pay station, ranger checks in the mornings.  No pesticides or herbicides used.  pit toilet, picnic tables, barbecue pits, dumpster, NO POTABLE WATER!!!!  Campground was deserted in early July but nearly full at peak season in mid August.

Mcgaffey, 8,000 ft elevation, 29 sites, $56-, closed summer of 2010

Ojo Redondo 8,900 ft el, 15 units, free — from 40 go right on 612, take the left fork onto 178, and left on 480

Coal mine--7,400 ft e., 15 sites, requires reservations, $5- 9 miles off interstate, Take the grants exit (547) go up the hill.

Lobo canyon- 7,400 el. 6 sites, free, 11 mi off interstate Follow directions for coal mine but then take a right on 193.

Santa Fe National Forest –                                                             No herbicide or pesticide spraying, no bear problems but be smart

Carson National Forest  575-758-6200                                              No spraying but there is BLM land next door to some sections of the NF, BLM may spray so you may want to contact BLM.

Taos ranger station-  208 cruz alta road in taos

The following campsites are on the Ski Valley road/ highway 150 north of taos.  There is not much traffic in the summer, however, the campsites are small and crowded, and often full; expect wood smoke.  The campsites are also primitive.   They are along a beautiful stream in an alpine setting and as such will be colder and rainier than taos proper.

Cuchilla

lower hondo 

twining- no fee, 19.7 mi n of taos, 4 sites

cuchillo del medio- no fee, 13.0 miles n of taos  3 sites.

Camping on Highway 518 (the High road) – south side of taos- contact me for more info.  great isolated & primitive campgrounds.

Camping on Kit Carson road (64) East of Taos- not recommended, high traffic volume.

Always call ahead to the forest you would like to camp in.  Forests may be closed at times during the summer when fire danger is high.

Choosing to Grow

“Powerful forces of change are at work here.  Yet what is achieved is not easily or readily shared.  After all,  becoming whole- the means of it- is a profound secret”

-Ralph Blum

This summer at the Lama Foundation I reintroduced myself to the incredible world of flower essences.  Walking  on the grounds of this spiritual intentional community in Northern New Mexico, I came upon a stand of beautiful, vigorous milkweed in full bloom.  The pink, fragrant flowers reached to waist height, and were being visited by a multitude of insects, all in search of sweet nectar and pollen.  I remembered a long forgotten encounter I had more than ten years ago, when I had been told to make a flower essence of this plant.

In my early years in Northern California I went to the Northern California Womens Herbal Symposium every year.  It was at Wavy Gravy’s lovely Camp WinnaRainbow north of Laytonville in Mendocino county.  Because of the yearly pilgrimage in my little beige toyota truck, I knew that drive by heart. I savored the change from urban to grassland to wine country and finally to the peace and quiet of Mendocino.  I worked for a number of years as a volunteer in the kitchen for reduced fees, enjoying the many workshops on herbalism, meeting like-minded women, jumping in the creek, and revelling in the clean air and sounds of nature.

One year I decided to take a class on working with plant spirits while in trance.   The instructor explained that we were going to go into a trance and then move toward whatever plant called us to it and learn what it had to teach us.  She got out a bahlran type drum, and started drumming a slow, steady beat, like a heart beat.  I lay on the ground, feeling the round river rocks under my back.  After a while, she asked us to get up and find our plants, and I drifted up and toward the river bank.  I found myself sitting next to a milkweed, which had already gone to seed, bursting with silky floss ready to travel the air currents.  I sat with the plant, and after a while the plant deva began to talk to me.

She told me to come back in the spring, and make a flower essence.  She said that the essence would be good for helping me to heal the trauma from earlier in my life that I had at that point already begun struggling to understand and heal.  She told me that milkweed would be a powerful friend in doing the healing work that would empower me as a woman and help me tap into the innate feminine strength I already possessed.  I knew this was important and when I left that class I felt that I had gained a powerful new tool and ally.

And yet- spring, then summer, came and went.  I remembered my promise to the milkweed, and yet excuse after excuse kept me from making the journey to the plant to make my own medicine and claim my strength.  It was too far.  I didn’t know when the plant would be in bloom.  I felt uncertain about making my own essence…  and on, and on.

Under those excuses was  a choice- a choice not to grow.  A choice not to take the path offered by the spirits, to instead try to tough it out on my own.  A choice to step back into the place of forgetting and numbness.  So I went through years of post traumatic stress that popped up cyclicly.  I went through years of being unwilling and unable to connect with my deepest self, for fear of what I might encounter.

And so it was, that more than ten years later I found myself, in the midst of a transformational two week stay at the Lama Foundation, called to gather a small group of women to connect with the milkweed spirit and make the flower essence.

We sat with the plant, asking it permission and giving it cornmeal.  We each listened and waited for the message that the spirit of the plant, or deva, had to offer.  We cut several flowers, floating them in water, and finally left them nestled by the base of the plant to work thier magic into medicine.

That morning I sat in meditation and felt that I had been given an energy “tune-up”.  The energy was flowing freely through my chakras; I felt clear, and good, and right.  I had been distracted by passing people during the time we were making the essence, and yet, I felt that the power of the plant and medicine had worked with me where I was at and given me an adjustment.

Since then, I have been using the essence and have been finding that it has helped me to pull back the layers of illusion that I have been using to protect myself from deep, old hurt.  I have found myself rising from my own depths and feeling stronger, more grounded and rooted, and more assured.  And I have committed to the time and energy it takes to investigate the dark places that I have hidden and avoided for so long.

Yet again, I affirm that I am on a conscious path of spiritual and emotional growth, and that this transformation is the culmination of many choices, day in and day out, minute after minute.

What choices do you make, have you made, to conciously transform yourself?  How do you define the path you are on?  Are you moving toward your highest good?

Milkweed Flower Essence:  Helps to heal trauma, especailly trauma related to being embodied as a woman; helps women to access their FEMININE power (as in a distinctly different power than masculine!) – from my communications with Milkweed

From Bach Flower remedies:

Positive qualities:
Healthy ego strength; independence and self-reliance.
Patterns of imbalance:
Extreme dependency and emotional regression, dulling the consciousness through drugs, alcohol, overeating; desire to escape from self-awareness.

Milkweed is indicated for extreme states of soul dependency and regression, characterized by lack of an independent ego identity. Such a condition can develop for many reasons-an accident or other trauma which has made the individual overly dependent on family or institutionalized care; or gradual addiction to drugs especially narcotics such as sedatives, opiates, and tranquilizers.

Milkweed can sometimes be indicated for those on spiritual paths who deny the awake conscious ego function, or who believe that initiation can proceed only if the ego is annihilated. These regressive tendencies may also be the result of a disturbed maturation process in childhood which creates an unconscious desire for the ego to return to an infantile state. At its deepest karmic level, some souls may incarnate with impairments which disturb the natural maturation of the ego function.

Because the core identity is poorly defined, there is difficulty coping with the normal demands and responsibilities through drugs, overeating, excessive sleep, accidents, illness, or extreme spiritual practices. Milkweed nourishes the soul at a very deep level leading to the ability to rebirth that part of the core self which has regressed. As the soul learns to experience the healthy function of its ego, it grows in strength and independence.

– from the ‘Flower Essence Repertory‘, by Patricia Kaminsky and Richard Katz. The most comprehensive and user-friendly flower essence book we’ve found. Highly recommended for any practitioner.

Flower essences are for sale and $1 from each bottle will be donated to the Lama Foundation.  See the Flower Essences page for more information.

Isa: Standstill/ Withdrawal/ Ice

The rune Isa resembles the letter I, sans serif.  Isa is an archetypal symbol for the winter of the soul, a time when one must go inward to discover old patterns and ways you are holding onto, which need to be let go of in order for new life to come forth.   In the cycle of birth, growth, decay, death, and rebirth, this is the phase of dying and rebirth.

This rune is about gestational periods of inner growth that we all must submit to as part of a spiritual life.  Those times when our most ardently constructed plans and desires come to a standstill.  It is a time when one must release the small self and submit to the larger processes of the Self and the universal flow. Especially in our culture, it can be very hard to let go into this part of the cycle, and it’s a good time to go to nature for help understanding and letting go.

When I started thinking about how I wanted to talk about the two pieces in this blog, the rune Isa immediately came to mind.  I completed the above piece, “Winter Coming,” a month or so ago, just in time for fall.  I tied it in with the piece below, “Grounded”, because of obvious similarities in theme and visual elements.

I am fascinated by the towering aspen forests on the moist, high elevation areas of Taos mountain.  There is something cathedral-like to me about sitting in a grove of stories high trees, amidst the dappled shade, the mottled white trunks, the quaking leaves.  To me, they symbolize calm, peace of the spirit, and the ability to connect with Spirit at high levels of truth and clarity while still being rooted in the ground.   The towering branchless heights also have a visual similarity to the rune Isa, and to me, Aspen, as a tree of high altitude, also represents the winter and cold climate.

“Winter Coming” is about the inexorable, beautiful, harsh reality of oncoming winter in the mountains, of knowing that the dark inward times are approaching.  It is about the transition where the cold, crystalline, solidified forces of winter overtake the lighter, outward summer times.

“Grounded”, below, has a similar energy in terms of expressing a feeling of being stilled or frozen.  The dryads and niads in CS Lewis’ chronicles of Narnia originally inspired this.  However, I did not intend the woman in the tree to look and feel trapped.  But she does, which reminds me of the myths where a human woman or goddess becomes a tree as she flees the unwanted approaches of a man or god– only to become permanently embodied in the tree.

This drawing (not yet a painting) features the autumnal leaves and swirling background seen in “Winter Coming”, and speaks again to that place which we all must return to time after time, where we are momentarily trapped in non action/ non movement as part of a cycle of growth, death, and rebirth.

Interestingly, I started writing this blog as a way to contemplate the new body of work that I am planning.  However, as I began to write and talk about it with another artist friend, I realized that “Winter Coming” does not fit in with the new body of work, which I envision as revolving around archetypal essences of goddesses and gods.  As such, “Grounded” may make the cut, but “Winter Coming” will likely remain a stand alone painting.

I will be submitting “Winter Coming” to the Taos Open-  the opening is on Friday the 23rd of September, 2011 at the Bataan and Rio Grande halls in the Taos Civic Center, which is on Civic Center Drive off of Placitas.

As always, I appreciate your comments and ideas.  To subscribe to the blog click on the button in the upper right hand corner.  Blessings!  Evelyn

Interested in Runes?  Check out The Book of Runes by Ralph Blum.

Heart of the Mountain

In transforming my art practice, I am transformed.  The cycle of change and new understandings is like an ouroboros- a snake eating its tail,  the symbol of infinity.  This is the way of spiritual growth: always on the path, always learning.

This is the original study for the painting, “Heart of the Mountain”.  I created it as part of what I call my morning drawing practice.

draft, "heart of the mountain" colored pencil, 8.5" x 11"

Every morning, shortly after rising, I spend time in my art studio.  For a cycle of many months, I spent this morning practice creating small drawings in my sketchbook which would later serve as studies for larger paintings.  The inspiration for these drawings would often be an idea that had brewed in my head for days, weeks, or minutes.  The content reflected my spiritual growth, emotional learning, and the new path of discovery and opening that I found myself on as I emerged from chronic illness into the new life I am co-creating with spirit daily.

Some days, I would find myself facing a blank page with no idea arising in my mind or spirit.  I would challenge myself to set pen, pencil, or colored pencil on paper, and often would begin with what felt like a doodle.  Often, however, images would arise from my deepest subconscious and slowly fill the page.

I came to cherish these moments of stepping into the deep of my spirit and my own numinous connection with the unknown and divine.  I have come to feel that these particular drawings are in a sense “channeled” – they are what arise when my self– the small being of ego and thought- steps aside, and my Self- the being who is most deeply connected with the divine workings of the universe- steps in.

As such, paintings and drawings from this Source often do not make sense on a logical level, or even in terms of composition.  Images and symbols arise unbidden which later crack open to reveal deep layers of mystical meaning.

Transitioning from the study to the painting has challenged me.

During a walk in the Carson National Forest, my friend Marina took some snapshots of my hands in prayer pose for Heart of the Mountain.

One of the first steps for me in transitioning a drawing from sketch to painting is finding a model, if needed.  Here, I decided to use my own hands in prayer pose for the hands in Heart of the Mountain.  However, there was a huge difference in using a live model versus the stylized hands in the original sketch.  The main thing that I discovered was that, if painting the hands realistically, it would be very difficult to transfer the original, aura- like, rainbow-colored patterning of the hands.  It simply would not work when rendering realistic shading to transition rapidly through so many colors.

I traced the form of the hands in the picture onto tracing paper and tried several times to mock out the color transitions in colored pencil.  The first try featured mainly blue and purple, the second more reds and oranges.  I liked the reds and oranges better, and sat down to paint.  However, as I picked up the brush I found myself feeling that the hands absolutely had to have blue in them, and began mixing up a blend featuring the deep cool of ultramarine blue.  Halfway through the first arm, I realized that there was no way I was going to get from ultramarine to red and orange without the whole thing looking garish.  I felt a bit frustrated, having made a plan only to not follow it, but my intuition told me to continue on, and so I did.

For me, this experience is one of the hallmarks of working with a spirit image.  Even when I am working with my conscious mind on the level of planning composition, the intuitive core of the work, which is connected to a universal Self and a flow deeper than my individual mind, takes over.  Later, when I showed the painting to my new friend Sulis, she pointed out the connection of that particular blue as the color of the Goddess and the Virgin Mary.

22" x 28", gouache, this is the mostly finished version of the work, awaiting a few small touch- ups and adjustments.

Another change I made, thinking on a purely conscious compositional level, was based on the rule of thirds.  The original sketch has the hands centered in the middle of the page.  After reading some of “Composition”, by Arthur Wesley Dow, I decided to move the hands to the left.  This move  effectively used the hands as a vertical dividing line and the horizon line of the mountain as a horizontal dividing line, which then would meet in the upper right side of the painting, creating more dynamic interest than if they met in the center.  Again, my (very perceptive) friend Sulis, pointed out that when looking at the painting, it was now divided into right and left sides.  The left being the sacred feminine, the void, darkness, and the unknown, and the right being the sacred masculine, light, action.  This could then be read from the viewer’s perspective, standing in front of the painting, or from the perspective of the painting itself.

Shortly after this conversation, I moved from the left arm (from the viewer’s perspective), to the right arm.  The painting of the left arm and hand had been arduous, because I had experienced a several year hiatus from painting due to my chronic illness.  So I was still working my way around the remembered qualities of paint texture, viscosity, blending, and flow.  I worked through that area of the painting slowly, with a few sessions of repainting areas that I was not satisfied with.  I worked my way up the right arm, which is mostly in light but has a rather severe shadow beneath the ball of the right thumb.  I worked furiously, completely engaged in the work, and stopped when I had completed the arm, thinking that it was a good stopping point and that I would work on the hand in another session.  I stepped back from the painting to take a look, and was struck by the sharp contrast between the left and right arm.  There it was again- dark and light.  This contrast between dark and light, void and matter, seems to have become a central symbolic theme in the painting.  Again, I felt that regardless of any plans I had for the painting, the actual work felt like an act of discovery, as spirit worked through me.

One of the things I love most about this painting is the layers of symbolism within it, which I have only begun to delve into in this blog.  I feel that this layered effect is most possible when my conscious, planning mind begins to step aside and leave space for spirit and flow to work with me.  I feel that this has been one of the main lessons for me in my art in the past year as I began to recover my art practice from the impact of chronic illness.  While before, I planned out much of my work  through principles of design and composition, the new art works best and is most exciting when it comes from that place of unplanned “channeling”.  Or maybe, you could call it the void.

Please, give me your opinion… this painting is “finished” but still awaiting the final touches.  I’d love to hear what ideas, symbols, and feelings this painting arouses in you.

Finding the Wild Within

i dedicate this blog to my cat Raizin- lost in the New Mexico desert this September

I have wanted to express my feelings about humanity and wildness for a while.  I feel that my cat Raizin taught me a lot about retaining a core of wildness within the domesticated world.   My intention is to use her story to illustrate my feelings about wildness.

When I moved out of the city (having been for most of my life a city dweller)  it was really only to suburbia- but I was so accustomed to urbia that it seemed wild to me.  Through the year of my transition period out of the city, I watched myself become more and more connected with the earth.  I felt at this time that my cat Raizin was a leader and a teacher.  Her wild, wise intelligence helped light the path for my transformation.

In the city she had always hunted, fought raccoons, and generally been a cat.  But once in the country I was able to watch her transform, to connect with her true cat nature in a way that had not been possible in the city.  A new movement of farmers dedicated to raising animals free range, such as Joel Salatin, remark that it is important to let each animal live their animal essence to the fullest.  I like to refer to my cats as free range kitties, as a nod to this concept.  Though of course, I am not raising them to be eaten.

For animal and human, the city erects many barriers to true contact with the earth.  Electromagnetic fields falsely connect with our own electrical/ magnetic systems in our bodies, preventing us from connecting as we should with the earth.  Concrete, shoes, cars, clothes, all prevent us from touching the earth regularly, even daily.  The speed of life in the city also hampers us from that contact that is so natural and so necessary.  Over and over the city assaults us, molding and forming us as creatures apart from the earth.

Once out of the city, Raizin seized the opportunity to rewild herself with vigor.  When I first moved into my new house in the suburbian/country, I loved to watch my cats exploring the new territory.  They hunted gophers, of which there were plenty, but at first succeeded only in catching the youngest, smallest specimens, which they would leave as a treat for me on the front porch.  Not sure if there were predators that hunted cats, I kept them in at night.  Eventually, I began leaving all my windows and doors open throughout the summer, allowing the cats to come and go as they pleased.  It turned out there were no significant predators of cats in that area.

I also started feeding them some raw food mixed in with their regular food.  Raizin and her sister cat Bella had a gopher hunting extravaganza that first spring and were bringing back 3-4 baby gophers every day.  The cats became more and more skilled in their cat-ness.  At some point they started bringing all sizes of gophers, and mice, too, and at some point Raizin began to heartily devour them- entire- on my living room floor.  (I had no screens on my windows to moderate incoming cats).  At first she would leave part of the animal uneaten, but she worked up to where she would eat the entire thing, leaving only a small bit of innards, and sometimes a head.  I started feeding Raizin raw chunks of meat to which she responded with relish.

She also involved her sister cat in the hunting process.  I often observed a neat team of cats herding gophers, trotting one after the other (one carrying the prey), bringing mice into the house to play with together, etc.  The pinnacle was when my other cat, Bella, began to take the mice they had caught together and eat them herself.  She was learning wildness from watching the behavior of Raizin.  (Bella is a very domesticated cat in most regards, so this was a fascinating shift of behaviour for her.)

It’s hard to express the beauty and subtlety of the transformation I saw in Raizin.  One friend of mine said, “she’s like a feral cat except she likes people.”  She would roam, night and day, expressing her wild cat nature to perfection, then come inside at random intervals to cuddle in the sweetest, most intimate and trusting ways.  I gave Raizin complete freedom and choice to express herself, to engage with me and with nature whenever and however she preferred.

At the same time I was transforming myself.  I spent hours and hours in the garden, at first obsessed with having it perfectly clean and weeded (ha!  good luck!).  I slowly eased into the rhythm of the garden, allowing flowers to mix with veggies, letting areas be weedy when I just didn’t have the energy to work, and eating the produce of the earth as often as possible.  Eventually I also began to respond to nature as an artist, creating drawings of medicinal herbs, trying to express the energy of the plants.  I reached a point of such utter connectedness that I began to communicate with the plants, understanding their resonances as messages interpretable by me as verbal communications.  (I’ll write about this more in other blogs.)  I became unafraid to walk in my garden barefoot, to wade through the tall grasses in shorts, to emerge from the garden covered in whatever natural matter attached itself to me.  My spirit and my energy began to resonate with the energy and vibrations of the earth, the slower, calmer rates at which we are meant to travel through this reality.

I write this blog because I believe that humans are meant to and need to retain a wild core.  I think that this wild core is one of the hardest things to reinstate for urban dwellers habituated to all that the city provides for us and divides us from.  I believe, and know in my deepest self, that the future of the human race depends on us reclaiming and nurturing that wild core- finding the wild within.  I remember Raizin with love and gratitude for being one of my teachers in this area.

Used to hunting at night, and with a very headstrong will of her own, Raizin did not come in one night about 3 weeks after I moved to New Mexico.  Unfortunately her experience as a wild cat in suburban California left her unprepared for the reality of the New Mexico desert, including coyotes whose songs sometimes sound like they are coming from right outside my front door.  She never returned, and I have not to this day found her body.  Her sister Bella, much more domesticated, comes by the door on an hourly basis and so is easy to catch and bring in before dark.  She survived Raizin.

Rewilding ourselves is a process of slow steps that ease us gently into a whole new world.  I think it’s important, if you have been a city dweller for much of your life, to take it slow when it comes to rewilding.  Nature holds dangers, as much as it holds the promise of nurture or beauty.  It is good to educate yourself as you begin your immersion, and tread with care as you learn the ways of a human connected with nature.

Suggestions for rewilding:

• find a way to garden.  it’s best to find a garden where you can touch the soil with your hands, but if necessary a container or rooftop garden is good too.
• compost
• learn to identify and eat wild foods in your ecosystem.
• learn how to backpack, kayak or canoe and take time  in nature for days at a time.
• if you can, find a place to live where you feel safe leaving your house open at night, where there is nature right outside your door.
• spend time in nature every day.
• walk outside at night- look at the stars, feel the wind, see the moon.
• find a spiritual practice that resonates with you and spend time in nature doing it.
• practice grounding yourself into the earth.
• learn about the medicinal herbs in your area and use them.
• spend time in places where you cannot hear cars, planes, or see evidence of human technology.
• turn off your cell phone and computer whenever you can.

All of this information reflects my path.  Others’ paths are different.  In particular, I favor the idea of getting out of the city entirely, though many people feel for various reasons that they need to remain in the city.  Hopefully there, too, more and more people will learn to connect with the spirit of wildness within.

I offer this in the spirit of love and generosity.  May you find your way to a new, rewilded you.  Namaste.