Wind gusts rock the truck, little pellets of sleet drum up the top of the shell, still, all is well in my world.
I’m up too early for my taste, because I went to bed with work in the morning. I have my Grand Canyon guide’s outfit on. I was dressed before I learned the tour was canceled. Prana hiking pants, tank top, long sleeve layer, down vest – the exact same pieces I’ll be wearing on the Appalachian Trail in 3 months. I have no space for single purpose items. My guide clothes are my street clothes are my hiking clothes.
The shell, as I call my living space in the back of the truck, is warm in spite of the wind’s best efforts. I just fired up my 3 ounce alcohol stove. A timble-full of Heet later and I am snuggling a Nalgene of hot organic raw Cacao thickened with chia seeds. Breakfast consists of Scandinavian crackers, coconut oil – I have no butter – and strawberry jam. The crackers, jam, and all staples in my food box, come from the Sedona Food bank. A side box I call “the breakfast box” holds a rotating assortment of hippy food – chia seeds, spirulina crunchies, raw organic cacao, hemp seeds, real Vermont maple syrup, mesquite and maca powder. These are gifts from the Universe. They come to me when I need them, usually in spectacular fashion for my own entertainment. Several of them I won in a raffle, some were left-over from a retreat – a retreat for four picky Russian billionaires for which I taught yoga and drove eight hr round-trip emergency grocery runs to appease tantrums. I could not afford these treats right now, but I don’t save them either. I wear my favorite clothes and eat my favorite hippy food today. I celebrate today. Tomorrow will take care of itself.
I usually would be dancing or hula-hooping in the desert at this time of day. There isn’t a human soul in sight. Silence and privacy in a wide open space is the norm here. I sometimes wonder if I’d ever again be able to live indoors. I left that life in 2011. Now full-time in the truck for 5 years, except for interludes of hiking, ice climbing, and one 3-month attempt at living with a boyfriend. In the beginning, I believed I was looking for home. In Dr. Seuss fashion, I asked each town I visited “Are you my home?” Until I realized I was already home – a mobile, mortgage/rent/utilities free home, custom-made to my dreams. Clients sometimes ask if I get lonely or bored, out here by myself. How could I? If it weren’t for dancing and hula-hooping, I’d be occupied in my books, journals, and crafts box. I’d be hiking. I’d be creating stories.
An ex-boyfriend once accused me of living an ostrich life, with my head in the red Sedona sand, unwilling to partake in the ugliness of the world. Aren’t I part of this world? Shouldn’t I know or care about this mass-shooting or that terrorist act? Am I selfish to selectively live in a beautiful world? Maybe. Or maybe it is my job to hold the opposite space for balance.
The sun came out and my cacao has now gone cold. It is a glorious day out in the desert. May yours be grand as well!
❤️ the roaming bobcat.
Post sent from my iPhone (written this morning)