Sorry to all those of you left in the lurch by last weeks polyfaceted, hasty entry to this blog. Often when I am writing online, and on the road, we come to that time when the coffee shop (or where ever) closes their doors and we have to go. Julie is very tolerant and rarely is the force that dictates whether I can get out all that floats in my mind or leave the thought interrupted.
So we were in Mt. Shasta with all the these amazing experiences for which we had actually been asking, like when we were driving across the deserts of Utah imaging the wonderful new work we would like to be part of in California. We both loved mocking up the building of an outdoor wood fired oven and then enjoying the satisfaction when at the Earth Day festival (a month later) a new friend was looking for volunteer help to mix and make a cob wood fired oven display! (This was not a finished work, but the essence was there.) This asking has mostly been done on a spontaneous level, sprouting out of the journey on the road. This is great but we want a deeper connection to clarity and purpose in our choices. We hope to dream our biggest dreams, to feel and surrender to those places of the intuition with a whole hearted yes!, trying not to get gummed up by the little traps of logic or the rough, rights and wrongs of reason. The highest part of ourselves can access a reality which the small mind of limited experience can never know. Luckily we can know this and saying yes to the impossibility of mystery, keep diving deep into the source of love: perfect, infinite and unchanging. For now we are living in a finite illusion of change wrought with opportunities for karmic growth.
The skiing, the white water rafting, the milking of a cow and goats, the meeting of new and friendly people, the stimulating conversation, and the cozy riverside campsite were all somehow unsatisfactory to the feeling centers we have been trying to cultivate. Please don’t think that we are unhappy or disappointed with our time in Mt. Shasta. I am trying to give a sense of our curiosity at being attracted to this place and experience on the mountain, and then not really wanting to stay put, or continue living at the foot of the holy volcano. We need to land somewhere, to get jobs and feel some roots growing in the spring rains. Our friends are all telling us how great the summer is on the mountainside: good skiing until July, deep clean swimming holes, sunny every day, but not too hot. These are all the things we were hoping for as we journeyed across the country in Dolores. Moving on from the identities we left in Vermont is a long inner journey. I have begun to see that landing in Mt. Shasta could create a space where we would remember all the identities we love and hate about ourselves. Owning up to all of the pictures of ourselves, as we think we are, as we want to be, and what we want to let go of, gives us permission to see them come into reality. And they will, over and over again, as long as we so tightly hold them. Julie and I have both been carrying some “baggage.” (No big surprise, I know. Don’t we all that’s why we’re here to forgive the “baggage.”) By choosing a place to journey to and flesh out our identities, many of which are still in tow from farming in Vt and some older ones rising to the surface as well, we gave ourselves an opportunity to let them come up and release. Mt. Shasta is a well grounded place on this earth, (also quite well connected to the cosmos) and as we become reacquainted with our phantoms we are able to see how wonderful they are and let go of those which no longer serve us. The examples of all this rambling introspection are in the skiing which is fun but not the shear bliss I know I can live, the milking the one family cow and helping brainstorm about milk shares is exciting but not the full time community project I feel tugging at my core. (I came back to these thoughts 3 days later.)
We have traveled far since I wrote that last passage. From Mt. Shasta we decided to reacquaint our vibe with the coast and the fog of Humboldt County. We drove up the Scott River and down the Salmon River toward the sea. Along the often one lane, windy, cliff side, road above the Salmon we encountered numerous bits of rock fall which the rain of late had been so kind to throw down on the pavement. Usually I would just avoid the larger stuff and drive through. After our first flat tire we ventured on more cautiously. The spare only had about 10 psi (normal and safe at 35 psi) so we were going slower than I might have, if we still were going to Arcata for the evening. When we blew our second tire on a batch of very small rocks in the road we could only pull over and camp out for the night. Easy to do when your in a remote river canyon with Dolores. The morning dawn saw a little sun but no cell phone service. As I was packing up both tires, thinking I would try to get at lease one fixed and back to the van a.s.a.p, my first ride stops to see if we need help and tell us that we cannot leave the van here as the local drunks like to burn vehicles. That made me feel better (not!) After driving around the canyon with no luck fixing the tires because of gashes to the side walls, we pick up Julie (now Dan does not like the idea of leaving her alone for hours,) and drive down river toward Ereka and the first available tire shop open on Sunday. (This is certainly some kind of miracle I keep telling myself.) In Willow Creek (25 miles from the van,) the first shop we stop at actually has someone there but it turns out only because another emergency client has paid the $80 Sunday gate fee. He will have to charge me $80 as well to sell me a used tire and put it on the rim for us; even just for the used tire (which I could have put on at another shop that was open but had no spear 14” tires.) Our ride with Dan over the next set of mountains and away from our home parked back up river seemed too much (what with drunken pyromaniacs roaming the canyons.) Julie and I really don’t live in that kind of fear. Actually the amount of money needing to be spent to fix the emergency at hand was real enough fear for me. I was doing my best to see the humor in the situation and forgive myself for my limiting beliefs about my financial situation. Even at the time, I could sense that this wonderful scenario of 2 tire scrapping flats in one rainy day, as Julie and I are driving to the town in which we hope set up jobs for the summer, and gain a firmer foot hold on our finances, is not great irony but the magical moment to forgive in the now. It is exactly the type of experience I want to be having because, I want to be on the cutting edge of creative living and I believe that to be; letting go, forgiving, surrendering to love and not even noticing as the world of fear and lack melts away from me.
So I did my best to forgive (mostly myself here,) and I cooked up a plan, at the heart of which was safety and ease for Julie, Dolores and I and not my fear that I couldn’t afford to fix these gashed tires. The shop attendant agreed that his tow truck, which was already up near Dolores, would tow the van to the service station, about 14 miles away from Dolores, on our AAA account. There would be a $45 charge for the miles over our tow limit and with this transaction he was to sell me a spare tire for $25 and look the other way about the $80 gate fee. Okay my “I don’t want to pay a lot” fear poked it head in there, the sneaky little devil. But this was great, first we know that Dolores would be going somewhere safe no matter how long it took us to hitch a ride back up canyon, and second we now had all the parts to put Dolores back on the road we just had to get to her. We did but not before lunch. If possible always hitchhike when your blood sugar is up. It makes your patience go much further. Two rides, the first of which clinched it for me in regards to this being a miracle. The second was the perfect ride, the kind that makes you feel like you stopped to pick yourself up. It was not quite even 2:00 pm when I walked out of the service station where Dolores was now parked with the new spare tire to put on. Put a little fuel in the tank and we are on the road again.
Back in Arcata we enjoyed a gorgeous evening walking around with our friend, Joan. She is introducing us to a world we feel very attracted to. more soon. love and gratitude, zach
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