Charon, the Odd Angel

I joined the guided hike as the Volunteer Ranger was pointing out a Great Horned Owl nesting site several feet above our heads in the hill that shaded the wash where we stood. He had just finished explaining that the owls may have returned to the site but had left the previous year after ravens had raided their nest and eaten the entire clutch of eggs. The three older ladies, one of whom I assumed was mother to one of the other two, were the only other hikers I’d seen on the trail and as I joined the party for the last part of the trail there were some things that bothered me.

The Ranger and I were the only people carrying water. Granted, it was a mile long trail, but this is the Sonoran Desert. The sun may not feel hot and that wind may feel cool, but both are slowly leaching moisture from you as you hike, and that moisture evaporates quickly here in the desert. I stopped to drink some water as I thought about this and the fact that the Ranger and I were also the only ones wearing hats. I thought a time or two about skipping ahead of the guided hike since my aim was to get my blood moving, but something told me to be patient and stick with it. I was in the middle of a beautiful section of the park and the weather was perfect. I slowed down to enjoy it that much more, feeling very present and very alive.

It was amid the slow ascent back to the trailhead that I noticed the eldest of the three women (I’ll call her Nani) slowing and leaning over to catch her breath. By this time it had been established through casual conversation as we walked that she was hiking on her own and was unrelated to anyone else in the party. I drew alongside of her and offered her some of my water, which she took with thanks. She assured me she would be just fine and we continued our climb up the stone stairways. Something in my gut told me to continue to walk behind her and I did so until we drew up with the Ranger and the other two ladies where they had stopped to wait for us to catch up. The Ranger inquired after Nani’s condition and she reassured him, as she had me, that she was just a bit winded. We had reached a marker, a forged metal signboard, which gave us an education about antelope ground squirrels, and we stopped to rest for a moment.

When I looked over at Nani it was clear that something was very wrong. She leaned heavily on the sign and I asked her if she was lightheaded. She replied that she was and almost immediately began to sag toward me.

If you have ever had to catch a person in a faint you know how awkward it is to support their weight. I called to the rest of the party and supported Nani on the ground as best I could. She came around and tried to stand back up at once, nearly striking her head on the metal signboard in the process. I kept her supported and covered her head to keep her out of harm’s way and once she was mostly upright I called to the Ranger to see if he had anything sugary in his pack. He didn’t, but one of the other ladies did and pulled out some fruit snacks, which we gave to Nani. She ate two of them as I asked one of the women to get behind her in case of another episode, which occurred a few seconds after we were in position to catch her and ease her to the ground.

I insisted we place her in recovery position as the Ranger called for assistance and gave the proper people our location and an overview of the situation. I was concerned that Nani might aspirate if she were to become nauseous and I wanted her in the proper position so she could continue to breathe freely if that happened. Up to this point I had no idea that any of the First Aid coursework I had taken to maintain my Tattooing License had been of any practical use. It was the Ranger who asked about my training and that was when I realized what I had actually just done.

The four of us kept Nani hydrated and on the ground, shading her with jackets that had been taken off during the hike, until the first wave of help arrived. When the first responders determined that she was lucid and apparently recovered they assisted her to her feet again with the intention of helping her to walk the last few yards to the trailhead. Within seconds she dropped like a stone for the third time and then the rescue began in earnest. Oxygen was brought out and a backboard called for and arrangements were made for transport to the nearest hospital. I offered assistance if needed, stating my Red Cross certifications and then stood aside to let the professionals do their work.

As it turned out, Nani’s daughter, whom she is here in Tucson visiting, was employed at one of the hospitals and Nani asked to be transported there. I’m certain all will be well with her.

As I left my information with them, the EMT Rangers took my statement about what had occurred and thanked me for my quick response. All I could say to them was what had been going over and over in my head. If Nani were my mother, I would have wanted someone to be there for her, to stay with her to make sure she got the treatment she needed.

I just did what anyone would have done.

Didn’t I?

I worked on both the big 2010 projects today, making a good amount of headway on one of them in particular so that the first portion may actually be completed this evening. In addition I saw a dear friend I hadn’t seen in many moons and filled the larder with good quality food from the local Ralph’s chain as well as the Trader Joe’s. It’s been a great day with a lot accomplished in preparation for moving on to boondock at Quartzsite, AZ for a little more than a day before wending our way back to Tucson and more chances for working interspersed with 4 or 5 mile hikes in the Sonoroan Desert.

Needless to say I’m wracked by guilt about it all.

I can’t seem to relax and let the enjoyment take over just yet, but I’m finding some solutions for that and they have been very effective thus far. I’m sleeping much better. I’m pining to get back to hiking, yoga and every additional sort of activity I find I enjoy. My jeans felt a bit looser this morning even after having been dried in an industrial Laundromat dryer the day prior.

I suppose I’m a bit anxious due to the fact that we’re camped on asphalt out front of a parts and service place that caters to trailerites. The people are friendly and very skilled, and we’ve been able to get some rare parts here that we really needed for the Safari as well as make some repairs with said parts, but the fact remains that we’re in the industrial section of Riverside, CA with all that implies. It’s the kind of place that makes one appreciate and fell rich gratitude for time spent in spots like Anza-Borrego. It comes with the territory and I’m getting over it.

The best thing I figured I could do after being woken early so we could move the trailer a half-block out of the service bay was to immerse myself in work, with the hope that I would move through my angsty mood and leave it behind. It worked very well. So well, that I’m now feeling angsty all over again.

I’ll find my stride soon, I know. I’ve already noticed that there are certain rituals forming during the course of the mornings and evenings on the road and I find them very comforting. They tell me that very soon attention to my own work will be a part of the format of the day. No procrastination and no guilt needed. It’ll take some more time, to be sure, maybe another month or two for it all to sink in that there is now nothing left ot do “when I get home”. Because home is here and I’m doing what I need to be doing every single day.

You know? I think I’m gonna be able to live with that.

The final days of my 2009 have been spent in Anza Borrego Desert State Park in California. We’re in Borrego Palm Canyon Campground, with about seven other Airstreams, a planned convergence.

On the last day of the year I watched the full moon (a blue one!) come up over the mountains in the east, right outside the front window of the Airstream. The entire campground ventured outdoors for the spectacle. You could hear word pass up and down the rows of campsites from person to person, encouraging everyone to step outside and take a look at what was happening with the moonrise. It was amazingly and profoundly beautiful and it was the first time in a very, very long time that I found myself able to be fully immersed in such a singular moment of beauty, simply letting the experience dominate my senses and sink in comfortably amongst my memories.

The rest of the night and the subsequent days have had me wondering, genuinely wondering, what it was that has prevented me from such complete appreciation in the past. It really boiled down to what I, personally, was doing to contribute to my own non-enjoyment of the glorious world about me. As I have scrolled down the list of my own choices that have led me into the dead ends of keeping my head down and eyes to the ground in front of my feet I have gradually realized that I have completed the needed work on all of them. I have done the best I could with what I had at any given time and am just recently confident enough to say that I’ve regained the lost stability of my health as well. My time and resources are now available to me to use towards other pursuits, other ends.

So. What do I do with it?

I’ve never been one to ask myself what I wanted to do. The questions on my mind have nearly always been with regard to what needs to be done or who needs to be kept happy. Neither of these questions is necessary any longer. I keep company with those who don’t need to be made happy by anyone else, let alone me, and I have reduced or eliminated debts and obligations that no longer serve me. I now have the novel experience of unscheduled time and the choice, free and clear, of how to fill it up.

I’m starting with new habits I’d like to form, new promises to myself, the one I always let down in order to fulfill promises to others. I’ve chosen Leo Babauta’s formula for doing so and will post a complete list here in the next week or so of exactly what I’m aiming to accomplish. So far I have the following:

• Drinking more water
• Posting to this blog a minimum of twice per week
• Getting outdoors to move about and be active at least three times per week
• Yoga in the evenings

From there I’m moving into ideas for projects I’ve shelved for more than a year, yet have still kept creeping into the corners of my mind, wheedling their way into my brainpan demanding some attention because, frankly, they’re GOOD. I have two of them. They’re in process now and I’ll write more about them when they’re near a more finished state of being. I imagine one will take the better part of three years to complete, but at the end of 2010 I’ll have a good portion of it done and hopefully submitted for publication and/or distribution. The other will be dispersed amongst close friends and allies and some of it will make its way to the blog here for download to anyone who might wish to share and share alike.

I’m also very enthusiastic about the idea of truly enjoying stillness once in a while, be it in the form of a nap, sitting in the sun, watching a waterfall, reading a book or enjoying the breeze cooling my skin. That was what I did the night the full moon came up over the mountains in the east. I admit, with difficulty and sheepishly, that I felt as though I needed to be doing something else. But there was nothing else more important at that moment in time than to be where I was, doing what I was doing, experiencing it and nothing else. It is sad to me in hindsight that I had initially felt pangs that told me there was something else that mattered more in that brief moment, and at one time in my life there would have been, when I was living for other people and promoting values that weren’t mine.

I am very grateful that time is in the past. And I am very humbled that my future holds myriad gorgeous, delicious, fascinating and amazing moments that are waiting for me to experience them, simply and fully, to become cherished and treasured memories.

“It is required of every man, that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellowmen, and travel far and wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness!”

Charles Dickens, 1843; A Christmas Carol

We arrived in Huntsville, AL at my brother and sister-in-law’s place the Saturday after Thanksgiving, to a house full of more warmth, laughter, family and, yes, food. We were given the basement to stay in for the first few days, and Brundlefly was even able to run about freely, tearing rapidly from one end of the large room to the other.

Our first morning there we heard a pounding on the sliding glass door and went to investigate. Brundlefly was seated regally at the glass panes, face to face with one of the pygmy goats on the property, and it had decided that the best way to deal with the newcomer behind the glass was to initiate a head-butting contest. *conk * The goat’s head hit the glass. Brundlefly looked up at us, amused, then looked back at the goat, expectantly. *conk * The goat tried again, a little harder. *conk * *conk * *conk conk conk* The cat was absolutely fascinated. Eventually the little goat tired of Brundlefly’s lack of participation and wandered off to seek more interesting things to do.

A good and relaxing post-holiday time was had by al in Huntsville, with a mixture of leftovers and freshly prepared offerings throughout the day to sate appetites. Anaphys and I both caught up on some much-needed sleep, then some also much-needed writing and phone calls. Evenings were spent thoroughly involved in various holiday movie offerings, including Miracle on 34^th Street (in black-and-white, if you please … ), White Christmas and a number of classic Rankin Bass stop motion stories. We still have a few queued up, but we covered a good many of the bases under warm blankets on the wrap around couches with my brother, who is just as much of a sap as I am when it comes to traditional holiday fare.

Wednesday we had the opportunity to go to the Space and Rocket Center and tour it properly. The previous year we had camped in the shadow of the enormous Saturn rocket on the property at a small RV park situated to one side of the museum and visitor center. I was particularly looking forward to touring the place with my brother who is a bona fide rocket scientist. His world of electronics and propulsion systems is a separate universe to people like me, with its own language and conventions, neither of which are decipherable without lengthy explanations. He is able to explain things to me in ways that make sense, a translator, if you will …

The visit made me wish I’d paid more attention in science class. Truly. Though I suppose if I’d had instructors as enthusiastic as my brother is when he genuinely wants someone to understand a concept, I might have been more motivated.  This stuff is fascinating, intimidating, overwhelming and amazing. I came away from it all starry eyed, which is only appropriate since we spent a great deal of time looking at advances in space exploration. The planes and other items built for flight were easy to appreciate from a design standpoint but I couldn’t help notice that item after item was labeled “no longer in the U.S. Army inventory” and that set me to wondering just how many people could have been fed decent meals with all the money that went to waste building an “unusable” inventory. It was pretty mind-boggling.

My sister-in-law, transitioning to a new job with a day schedule, treated us to her super special chicken recipe and an extra tasty salad (which I’m going to attempt to replicated while we are here in NC between shows … ) while we were there and gave us the tour of the farm she’s been building, with chickens, rabbits and goats, all (with the exception of the goats) running free on the property. The goats had visited the neighbors a week before we arrived and were consigned to a pen by the time we got there. While we were there, though, the smaller nanny goat discovered a way to jump the fence and there was no containing her after that. Anaphys caught her sneaking up on him as he packed the utilities on the trailer. She would have given him a wallop on the bottom if he hadn’t turned to look at her at the right moment.

All in all we were sad to leave, but we had work up north that beckoned and a schedule to keep. We pulled out a week after we had arrived and pointed the truck north once again, toward family, tattoos and, as we would discover much to our chagrin, SNOW.