heathervescent

Desert Winds

My city lights twinkled like the universe below me. I grabbed my bag from the overhead compartment. The smell of the city, of Los Angeles' moist cool jetfuel tinged air curled into my nostrils and my lips curled into a smile of pleasure. The sound of fine shoes echo through LAX's underground tunnel to baggage claim.

The wind whipping the palm trees on my street. Rustling the palm fronds. Clear night like the blackness of the desert. The wind swirls around me as I walk Mr Dog in this misplaced desert night blowing through this city. I think, smiling, if you can't go to the desert, the desert comes to you. I am thankful for these strong, cold, clear Santa Ana winds. 

At night, I bundle from their chill, remembering times around a sole flickering campfire. During the day, I strip down to t-shirts and hike the heat warmed creosote chaparral. Sweet dust desolation. 

I think of empty Mountain Ranges. Full fat moons rising in a pink sky. Black and white lunar surfaces of rock. Hot black cracked pavement. These memories evoked by these swirling winds of the desert. Penetrating my heart, finding the pain, drying it's wet bloody crying to dust, blowing from my heart to join with dust in these Santa Monica Mountains, the San Gabriels and beyond.

Kicking Dust

The wheels turned off the pavement to dust. We bounced over the transition. The road was level, no washboarding and I accelerated painting a trail of dust to the mountain. I follow the girls names, zigzagging and fish-tailing the back, never mind the sloshing gasoline.

The dust line ends at my gallows gate. Beyond it is a metaphor and a lot of hard work. I roll the wheels beyond and stop. The road noise is swallowed by the sweltering heat. And it is sweltering.

I pull the thermometer from its packaging and watch the red line rise. Inside the house it stops at 108. Despite this number, the desert is alive. The wind blows, hot as an oven. There is the constant hum of insects and the birds we've displaced chirp and twitter. 

We sit inside, in that heat, drinking effervescent wine. I look around at the bare beams, the crumbing insulation, the buckling floor, the jerry-rigged windows. My eyes soak in the view, looking for clues in the rusty nails, the window frames. My mind works the ratiocination. My imagination creates stories of the past, possibilities of the future. My body suffers in the heat and calculates the effort of these possibilities. For now, enjoying the cool bubbles.

Coyote Fear

I am constantly amazed at how resilient we humans are - and yet so fragile. How beautifully contradictory.

As the boyf was out of of town, I decided to take the opportunity to spend some quality time in the desert at LoriLisa, my little scrap of Mojave wasteland. I knew it was going to be hot: 90+ degree hot, but I was not dismayed. My plan was to work in the evenings and mornings and lay low during the hot afternoon. 

I headed out early afternoon on Friday in time to arrive for a spectacular combination sunset and moon rise. Truly only planetary bodies can compete with the expansive geological scale of the desert. Mountain ranges eroded into prehistoric effluvial plains. It was over one of these ranges a blue-ivory moon rose from the desert haze. I was racing the clock. Flooring the pedal that flogged my combustion engine faster. I could not reach my destination fast enough.

Behind me the I saw the red-orange rays of the sun setting behind a past range. In a moment, the pavement gave way to sand and my tires kicked up a line of dust as I headed to the far edge of this sparsely populated civilization. We were bumping and jumping through the washes and fish-tailed the back tires a bit just for fun. 

The tires stopped, the radio silent, I stepped out into the cooling desert.

 * * *

We sat in my front yard, splayed out on a retired bedspread watching the planets shine and the moon rise, getting smaller and whiter as the night progressed. That's when the coyote's started their howling. I had forgotten to pack my pistol and had only my small knife on me. When packing for the trip, I had considered exit strategies for mere human (redneck/meth-head) predators - and had completely forgotten about natural ones. It was a lesson in city living. It's gotten to me. I felt tamed. 

Out in these places I have heard the lone or two coyotes calling out his brethren, often far far in the distance. Not this time. This was a large pack - I would expect at least 7 or more. And it sounded VERY near. Intertwined with the coyote's barks and howls, I could hear a dog. It was easy to hear the difference. I expected the pack to visit LL any moment. For hours the coyotes barked in the near-distance. We watched and listened to the desert, no safety of the firelight. (I had opted against a fire because the moon was so bright.)

The planet set and the moon carved an ecliptic pathway across the sky, outshining the milky way and all but the brightest stars. The howling subsided and that's when I noticed the strange rasping sound of the wind in the creosote bushes. My vision was shifting and everything took on an underwater illuminated pointillism.

Moonshadows lept from my fence posts, my house, my legs. I was not quite brave enough to do my midnight walkabout - one of my plans for the evening - with that pack of coyotes and my pistol left at home. So I strayed not far from my land. 

The wind caressed my skin - soft warm and comforting. The upside of an unbearable desert day is a warm night. What does one do out here, I pondered? What can one do, but watch and think and see and listen and be silent. To be present. To feel the wind. To see the moon shadows. To hear the coyotes. To smell the air. To taste fear and comfort. To be present in the moment for hours.

Cracked Earth

The gunshots reverberated on the mountain range. I could see the sound rolling and curving around in the shape of the mountains. It sounded just like a jet airplane. Hours earlier, we had hiked to the top of one of the rocky fingers. Humanity shrinking as we took in the view. The landscape expanded and I swept my gaze on it, like licking an ice cream cone. The line between dry lakebed and chaparral was obvious. The El Nino rains have been good to the desert plants. The creosote responded in kind, with bright green leaves and yellow flowers. They made the mountain and desert plains greener than I have ever seen them. 

It was easy to see the underground stream in the lakebed by the line of flowers growing in the middle of it. Later, pup and I walked out to explore and sat in the dry cracked dirt filled with yellow flowers of the stream. I noticed shadows moving around us. High above us, between earth and sun, sever dark birds circled us. I stared up at them, wondering were they crows or buzzards. I watched their circling swarming method. Then one broke off. Slowly the rest of them followed the leader as it made it way over to the next mountain range. The wind brought my attention back to the ground.

There's something out being out there. Out in the wind. The heat. The starkness. It reflects. I don't like sharing it with other people. It's like an oasis I like to keep secret. It's like going to another planet - you go there to experience a different reality. But if you bring your whole reality with you, it contaminates that you are trying to experience.

Shotgun Wedding 
Originally uploaded by heathervescent

Winners!

Big thank you to Dominik, Sam, Kelly and our weekend welder Dave - the Junkyard Dogs Racing Team - who put hours of long effort to make the "Mad Max" car the Judges Choice at our first 24 Hours of Lemons.

I felt like of the runt of the pack - trying to help and stay out of the way. Sitting back and letting others make decisions. It wasn't my car. I hadn't put in the long hours welding the cage (although I did work on the car - it was mostly the guys). I was just excited to have my own racing suit and (third) helmet. (Apparently my motorcycle helmets can not be used for car racing.) I was nervous and anxious before the race. It would be a few hours before my turn behind the wheel. So I decided to sit down and chill out. My time to cram into the 5 point harness, neck brack and helmet would come.

And then it did. I was strapped in. Driving through the paddock to the hot pits. One final check and I was on the track. One thought barely flitted in my mind - that maybe I was scared - but like the bulldozer on the minivan Sunday afternoon - that thought was gone as I braked for my first turn and put the wheels to squealing.

I felt the tactile nubs on the steering wheel. My right foot went from accelerator to brake. My eyes analyzed the track, my brain calculating the curves, bank and how and where to enter them. I didn't notice the pressure from centrifugal force moving me to this side and that. I heard the rev and popping of engines. I smelled burned oil, brakes and fuel. I was calm, relaxed and one with the car.

I pushed it through the turns gaining what little speed I could. I swung the back end with a not always small fishtail (that more than once turned into a 180). I watched how the more expert racers (who were driving almost twice my speed) set themselves up for the curves and hills - and I tried to stay out of the way when the pack descended upon me passing on all sides through the straightways or the curves. I wasn't phased by them. I just wish I had someone to race with. I didn't pass one car the entire time. It seems we forgot to bring a racecar to the race. :)

Nevertheless, I've lost my racing virginity and gotten bitten by the bug. I foresee many cars and tracks in my future.

Rocks

Usually this time of year the blog is set up on auto-post while I'm off at Burning Man. This year, though, I've taken the year off. That's not keeping me away from the desert though.

I had a lot of desert adventures under my belt before I went to Burning Man. The playa is a blank canvas and the people out there are the mixed media paint. The expression of transient creativity is beautiful. But the desert is not just a backdrop - a canvas. The silence is not a vacuum to be filled up.

I've been researching mines and off-road adventures; airwater evap systems, solar kits and well pumps. I'm dreaming of solitude. The heat rising off the floor, the coyotes at night, quail at dusk. Dust trails rising from my track deep in the rocks.

"Here is no water but only rock
Rock and no water and the sandy road"
- t.s. eliot

This is my ocean. The silence and heat feeds me. Challenges me. Delights me. I swim in the wind. I sweat in the heat. Out there I am nobody, unfettered by definitions or personal branding.

Too Hot to Handle: School's Out

What was I thinking? A work weekend in June in the Mojave? Out where the troops practice heat acclimation before heading to Babylon?

We drove out under the coolness of darkness. At 1am it was still reading 80 degrees. We built a bonfire and pulled out a bottle of champagne watching the moon set in the west. Coyotes howling, their singing closer and closer to our little piece of nowhere. Under the Milky way refrains. Waxing spiral galaxies. You can't help but think big deep things out there.

I awoke to the sun before 8am - tired and groggy. The sun was already blaring hot and bright. I fiddled around, pulling out trash bags and surveyed the situation. There was a lot of work. There was a lot of trash. There was a lot of probably toxic insulation to be dealt with. What the hell was I thinking?

There was nothing left to do but start - so we started. By 9 it was still getting hot, so we decided to go to town for supplies at the new mega-Home Depot. We pass a convoy of tanks on the way and drooled at the machinery. S rolled down her window and we offered a swap - truck for tank. I did not envy the guys - open to the elements with full gear on. A streak of white cord snaked from a helmet into a pocket. A soundtrack for war.

We returned in the heat of the day and S napped while I sat in a patch of shade reading about Burning Man and looking at the hot still scenery - watching reflections on the mountains. Again wonder what the hell I was thinking. I've survived Burning Man - so I can do this. I alternated these rests with raking, picking up trash, rolling up fencing. It was finally starting to take shape as the sun rode its chariot west.

An afternoon adventure at the local bar turned things to the worst. Those stereotypes you hear about, they exist for a reason. Yeah - it's authentic, but it's not necessarily pretty.

We caught the sunset - purple mountains, pink clouds and a final burst of energy before calling it quits and vowing to return in September. School's out. We packed our bags, covered in dust and sweat and sunblock. On the return to civilization - I stopped to get an ice cream. The cashier at the checkout counter had been in the Marines. I asked him what the high temp today had been - and he responded with "it's been cool - it was only probably 105 today. Usually it's about 115 this time of year." Global warming making the Mojave cooler.

So I'm shelving LL until September. Besides - I've got a big move I'm about to announce and I've been clearing my slate making room for my next adventure.

Voices in the Desert

In Wrong is Right there was this Arab leader who would go into the desert "to hear voices". I thought of this as I packed some basic gear and the dog in the truck for a short trip out. It occurred to me that the reason I go to the desert is "to hear voices". Sometimes those voices are my own. Sometimes they are what is playing on the radio. Sometimes they are my friends. Sometimes they come on the wind or the movement of the flames in the fires I build.

I watched the fat moon rise over the prehistoric mountains of rocks. In my rear-view mirror the god effect reins down from the clouds. My reality is shifting as I pull off the pavement and onto the sandy desert road. The moon continues to rise and I see a tent city, flickering lights. I hear pounding music. I pull up only to find unknown faces in a familiar setting. Eventually I find the host - one of my cherished friends. We immediately dive deep into a conversation of consciousness - probably because I mentioned my week in Tucson - and he says something that stops me. "Everything is an illusion. The illusion is necessary so we can experience being individual." And I agree.

I had been thinking about suicide, death and killing on the drive out. I had been thinking about cliques and communities. Divisions, exclusivity and inclusion. My irritations. My own activities that are divisive, cliquish and exclusive.

I asked him about Mercy, since I figured he would be able to answer my mercy question, and he suggested thinking about compassion instead. Compassion I get. It's mercy, I have in my claws. It's mercy I want to understand. Elusive Mercy.

The music pounded all night long. I watched people I didn't know dance with fire and hoops and each other. I lurked in the shadows stoking the fire, throwing pallets on it, building a fire ring, pushing the wheelbarrow full of wood through the dance floor. Spider weaving the web. Playing the harp strings.

The music still pounded when I left this morning and headed into a silent desert. As I drove through the basin I saw the whole area as a lush ocean - the rocks and mountains under nutrient rich water. I saw the desert patina echo back to coral, algae and moss.

And then I was back on the 101, speeding through Hollywood, thinking about New York and Boston and the Purple Tornado travels. Remembering all the errands, emails, things to coordinate before I leave tomorrow. I'm glad I took the time to go out there and listen to the voices.

1300 mile highlights

Eight hundred miles in the past three days. (A total of 1300 in the past week.) Three states. Many states of mind. Much stimulation of the brain. Meeting new people. Getting to know acquaintances better. There are not enough words in my exhausted brain to even begin describing all that transpired the past seven days. I returned to Los Angeles a few hours ago - a car full of packages and a bit more worn for the wear. Both my fog lights were blown out Friday night after hitting a raccoon just outside of Sedona and a rabbit about 30 minutes south of the Hoover Dam.

I will try to pull out some snippets from my memory.

Most recently I returned from Death Valley this afternoon after a sleepless night filled with stars and conversations. A friend brought up two concepts I realized during our conversing I don't really know or use: Mercy and Happiness. I am not motivated to live my life with Happiness in mind. I have other emotions that motivate me. And about Mercy, well, it never even occurred to me. I don't think I even know what Mercy is. I generally wield the ax of justice and it definitely severs relationships. So this concept of pondering mercy and how to be more merciful, is intriguing and something I will meditate on - and perhaps practice.

Hiking at dusk in Sedona. I wanted to go to a magical place and instead the trail I chose went along an Indian resort. I was irritated and frustrated. It was getting dark, and it was not my idea at all to drive 5 hours to Sedona only to be surrounded by the sounds of cars and air conditioning and civilization when I was supposed to be in a magical place. I guess the Indians need to make a living too.

When I stopped to catch my breath on the trail at the twisted juniper right where the sign was posted "You are on camera, so don't jump the fence you stinky hikers" complete with industrial lights destroying the natural darkness. I spied a ledge - right in the middle of the light. I had a flash of inspiration and went straight to the spot - straight in the middle of the spotlight under the surveillance cameras and proceeded to meditate upon being in the spotlight. And so, instead of fighting my self about NOT being in the spotlight because that's not where I thought I wanted to be, I understood why I need to be in the spotlight because that is really where I must be. Inner conflict resolved.

I can't even begin to express how much the conference I attended in Tucson effected me. Over the next few days I'll try to write up some notes. I attended the conference to learn more about what science is doing around the study of understanding and explaining consciousness and the human brain. I left with the beginnings of a new language and awe for ourselves and awe for science. I plan to explore my interest in this subject more and more in the coming years.

I love driving in the desert at night. I put the top down and looked at the stars, felt the wind in my face as I drove back from the official conference dinner Thursday night at the Desert Museum. I put on Orbital Blue Album and took in the wind, driving fast and taking the curves. I am happiest at the wheel of my car, alone on a dark two lane twisty highway. My car is an extension of my body - I feel the vibrations of my tires on the road through my stick and wheel. I listen to the motor as I increase RPMs and slow down, shifting accordingly for speed or coast.

I wondered, why does this make me so happy? To be alone, a bullet speeding along. But then I stop thinking and enjoy the ride. This is truly something I love.

I felt the same way when I came upon the Hoover dam past midnight. I had spent hours driving through Arizona. Napoleon Hill was speaking to me in those midnight hours (and when the rabbit met her death under my wheel). I passed through the check point and then was upon the dam. A huge bright lit construction was being built above me. I was in awe at modern engineering. I slowed and looked at the new bridge. It was beautiful and massive.

A moment later I crested a hill and a city of twinkling lights unfolded below me. It was beautiful. And for once in my life I saw the beauty of Las Vegas. I found my way to the Strip and a posh hotel filled with friends. A strong difference of my last days in the desert.

There are many more stories to write. Many more things I want to share with you - my anonymous readers. But tonight I sleep. For tomorrow another adventure begins and I must tend to my dreams.

Checkmark Carkill: Another dream come true

• 20 hours in the car +
• A private ranch outside of Reno +
• Practicing my stunt car moves on a dry lake bed +
• Enough guns and ammo for a Hollywood blockbuster +
• 5 cars with death written all over them +
• The usual assortment of fire accelerators =
• A dream come true.

Adventures and Enlightenment

Shannon came down to LA for a long weekend in the desert. We always have fun adventures and this weekend was no different. I was feeling super foggy and unconnected. I feel so stuck in this world and not connected to the "out there". I suppose that's good, but at the same time I miss the clarity. Shannon in the opposite place and it took us a few days to equalize.

We drove all over Wonder Valley, 29 Palms and Joshua Tree looking at land and old homesteading cabins. We both decided to go in and get one together. I had brief fear of another Gloria situation - and since Shannon was there through all that we had a very frank discussion. It's a partnership of enabling, no burdens. We found some promising places and we have more research to do, but I'm excited to start actively working towards my dream of a desert ranch. We tentivaly named the ranch - The Wonder Valley School for Hyperactive Girls. And yes, it is going to be a cult and we will be the cult leaders. ;) I've always wanted to start a cult.

Then we went through Joshua Tree on the way to Palm Springs. There were purple flowers in bloom almost the whole way. See pictures. Later, after we showered we found ourselves at a swanky restaurant with pink Neon. We were easily 20 years younger than anyone in the place (except for some of the employees). We had champagne and steak and gave our waiter (who carded me) a good hard time.

After our Palm Spring interlude we headed to Salvation Mountain - which was truly inspiring! It was there we experienced our <3s Desire and lived out the dream. There is more to the weekend, but I'll have to tell it in my own way in another post, at another time.

 

A Story on Firestarting

I occasionally attend a multi-day gathering with friends at an old homesteader cabin in the Mojave. The area is desolate, and for one weekend we bring in generators and DJ equipment, a stage and about 80 people camp, party and generally have a good time. We shoot guns at the private range and generally engage in standard desert activities: eating, drinking, esoteric conversations and taking in the natural beauty of the desert. At night it is cold, so we have fires - inevitably started by yours truly.

In this particular weekend, it was unseasonably cold and as the sun set, everyone was gathered in and around the cabin. It was crammed in there while no one was paying attention to the cold desert beauty at dusk. So I went outside to start a fire. At first, it was just me and Sam, and a friend or two stopping by. We chucked more wood into it and really got it going. Then others came out and started adding wood and pretty soon there were a lot of people by the fire. The fire was going really well and people were enjoying adding wood and taking care of it. Since there were 2 other fire pit possibilities and plenty of wood, I moved onto start another fire in another location.

Same story as the first one. At first it was me and Sam (my firestarting partner) stacking the wood, the newspaper, twigs and lighting the match in several locations. We always get the fire started on the first try. Again, we were alone with the fire, but slowly folks moved from the first fire and others from the cabin came out to be around the second fire. It was closer to the stage and dance area so people would stop by to warm up between dancing and wandering.

The same thing happened for the third fire. At that point I would occasionally need to add wood to the previous other fires.

I feel like that's what happened here in LA Tech. There are tons of people around adding fuel to the fire, chucking on their own pieces of wood. Making a fire bigger and even starting their own. The fires are beautiful and roiling. It's very hot and going quite nicely.

I like the cars that go BOOM!

TikiFkos were playing  "Tigre and Bunny's - cars go boom" mashup and I couldn't help myself. Jenna caught my classic car-b-que activities on film. The "Heather" she is complaining to, is me. Thanks for taking one for me Jenna. xoxo, your BBF (your bad best friend)

oh yeah, and I this was one of the times I blew the door off the car-b-que. Perhaps you can imagine the effect at 3:30 in the morning. The sky lights up with a flash of boom, and then I pull a pizza out of the pizza oven (on the other side). pps. notice the unicorn hood ornament!

The Rainbow Connection

Doc took this photo of Gigsville, yes, that's a unicorn in the front row. Yes, that's a rainbow behind us. Rainbow Unicorn Camp, yay!

Burning Man is not my desert

I told you a little bit about my desert and how I like to experience it. Today, I want to tell you that Burning Man is NOT like that desert experience. When you go to Burning Man, you are not leaving civilization. You are not in a desolate, barren place. It is instead a blank canvas on which many possibilities in human creativity are realized.

Burning Man is the intersection of two worlds. The natural world - everything on this earth came from the earth. Everything has been refined. Every single thing you'll see on the playa (or today wherever you are) came from the earth. And the human world. Man taking these raw materials and transforming them into magical fantastic creations.

At burning man, we are all actors on a stage. We've disconnected from our everyday life and take on the persona of someone else. This disconnect allows something new to happen - call it magic. It's a bath in this type of energy. It's addictive to shed your stinky character and be something different.

The first time I was on the playa, I was disgusted. I hated the destruction of the desert quietude with the racour of dance clubs. The destruction of the cracked surface into a fine powder. This was another way people - supposedly enlightened people - we just abusing nature. But then I saw this is not about Nature. It's about humanity. (And it's not about people living in harmony with nature either.) It's an opportunity to leave everything behind, and become like the playa - a blank canvas on which a picture will be painted. A new story to be lived. It's a disconnect. A view, that the life you think you have to live, is the only way.

Because it's not.

But you don't have to go to Burning Man to get that. But you won't find a wider display of human creativity anywhere on the planet.

Burning Man Costumes - Redux

It's always strange to have a weekend at home. I'm most productive with a task list and this is one of the last weekends before burning man, so my focus was on pre-playa prep. I initially had a costume freak out, thinking that I didn't have any costumes and would be stuck wearing some regular clothes. You see, the domestic life is very good to the heathervescent and she's put on some weight! My slinky BM clothes from 3 years ago will not fit. But then I remembered my banana costume. And then the zombie cheerleader costume. And then my nurse costume (that I got for the Art of Bleeding show last October) and then I opened my closet and costume drawers, and it was like a cornucopia of possibilities! Really, there was no reason I should have ever worried, but I like to freak out sometimes.

I found my old Aeon Flux costume (which needs a new zipper) several sets of playa boots, evening gowns bought for the desert (what can I say, I do love the excessiveness of glamor in unusual places), capes, cloaks, wigs, gloves, stockings, knee highs - everything you could possibly want for the playa. But then in a fit of anger, I went to Melrose to try to fix my cell phone (which is an unlocked european phone that cingular has no clue how to deal with and I get horrible cell service since the iphone launched (me hate you apple!) and I walked by Aardvarks. Why I went in there, when I was feeling good about my costumes is beyond me. I picked up a lab coat, a couple flight suits, an ice purple cloak and wig to match, and too many other things. I think I now have costumes for a month on the playa. But wait! Don't stop there Heather, you're too good at being excessive. So how do we continue the excessiveness? Go to Hollywood Blvd! I picked up a new pair of boots, a police costume and some other spandex loveliness before headed into to the Costume shop - where I put my excessiveness on hold. I mean, do I really need to own a mascot costume? Well, not this year, unless you happen to have one sitting in your closet that I can borrow...

Fractyl cloud

Fractyl cloud
Originally uploaded by heathervescent.

We were headed out to the desert on the 10. I watched this gorgeous cloud cover spiraling above us. I snapped this photo (on my cameraphone) of the fractyl view. It doesn't necessarily come out so well, but the little fluffy clouds were fractyliferic!

Unicorn Update

Unicorn Reality!

Declare Independence

For the past two days I have had Bjork in my head. C put it there and it won't get out. But that's ok, because it's the theme song for today: Declare Independence.

And in a few moments I will pack up MsVescent, put the top down and we will drive away from this land of red rocks. It's my Independence Day Drive through the desert!

I'm excited because I'm taking a northern route and swinging through Nevada. I may hit up Death Valley and most definitely the Mojave National Preserve. It's too bad I'm not in an offroad vehicle, because the backcountry roads I know and love best are gonna be right off the pavement. Another time.

Why Hello Desert Wind

It's been hot in LA the past couple days. Very hot. It registered 92 before 10am today. You know what that means? Sing along with me everyone...

"here come those Santa Ana winds again...."

Yup. What we are feeling is a bit of the desert heat. And I love it. I know fires are raging and I'm writing this from my 85 degree air conditioned office, but I still love the hot dry smell of chaparral. Just another reason, I love LA.

Santa Ana Winds, I love you

I awoke this morning to bright sunshine. I rolled over and hid my face in the covers. Two hours later my feet padded down the stairs. I opened the patio door and my nose was greeted by the sweet hot smell of the desert. My heart jumped - the santa ana winds are back!

I sat outside in the shade and enjoyed the wind and heat. My mind traveled back to the tan, rust, striated mountain ranges I know so well, east of the inhabited LA basin. In an instant I'm standing on a pile of boulders on the top range. I can see a full 360 and all around mountains, basins, washes... no roads. No houses, no inhabitants, no water. My hair is longer and the wind is whipping it around my face. I love it up here. The sun, the wind, the openness, emptiness, space and lack of human mark (save the power lines and landing strips).

I miss the desert. When the santa ana winds come blowing through LA - bringing their China Mievelle dreams - it is like my favorite grandmother visiting. It's a little reminder of home and that I must plan a quiet visit soon.

Let there be Light!

I can't help it. I'm a moth to a flame. I am in love with the earth and it's bare elements. I was going to write that Fire is my favorite, but it's not. I love the ocean, the wind and getting the earth in every pore. However fire brings out something wild in me. It is a drug and brings me - takes me - to another place. A place where I feel the need to build up the fire and then release it. Sometimes that comes by mere tending the fire, coaxing flames from hot coals. Other times it's dumping pallet upon pallet into an already roasting flame. More often than naught, it includes exploding certain flammables. If you ever hear me yell, "Fire in the Hole" you will want to get away from the fire as fast as possible. Recently I've been branching out to other metals that burn bright. A friend recently presented me with at 2 ft brick of magnesium.

This past weekend, out in the desert with about 50 of my best friends, I put that brick into a hot fire. About 30 to 45 minutes later, we saw green pools of light (through the welding glasses). 15 minutes later, the fire was ablaze. The photographs that were subsequently taken did not need a flash.

Then someone had the great idea to pour water on the fire. So we started making water balloons. Someone handed me a water bottle and an idea flashed into my fire soaked brain. I remembered how fire spitters blow fuel out of their mouth to create flames. I have always wanted to do that, but have yet to learn.  But here I was, water bottle in hand, with the primary objective of putting water on the magnesium! What better way to spray the fire?

Photo by Ranger Rugburn. Note the people shielding their faces in the background. And yes, I am wearing a white ball gown. And no, no flash was used to take this photo. Thanks to Jetfuel for the, well, fuel.

ps. Mom, don't worry, I didn't get burned. But I do kind of feel like G-d now. ;)

pps. ha ha Rob Brezsny!
AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): Lightning strikes somewhere on the earth
6,000 times every minute. A single bolt may carry a million volts and
reach a temperature of 50,000 degrees Fahrenheit. If this elemental force
could be tamed and utilized, it would provide enough energy to raise a
cruise ship six feet in the air. While you won't be able to literally harness a
lightning bolt in the coming week, Aquarius, you could accomplish the
metaphorical equivalent. At least temporarily, you have an uncanny talent
for mobilizing tremendous power that's normally too hot to handle.
Halloween costume suggestion: a relaxed, smiling lightning bolt.

Neural Net

I left the party and hiked up a wide wash to the base of a small mountain. At the furthermost tip a pile of crumbling rock surveys the view. I rest here, like a hawk, the west wind screaming down my chest. I feel it pierce every fiber. The sun is hot, the wind wild, but I am not cold.

Directly in front of me is our motley camp. A collection of vehicles, tents, shade structures and fire-making devices. It is a tiny speck on the edge of the dry lake. Ominous rocky mountains surround, secure and hide the place, the huge space. Scrub grows in the wide washes, until nothing grows demarking the edge of the lake. Off-white smooth flat for miles.

I find a wide crack between the rocks. There is both sun and shade. Cool rock and hot stone. I set down my pack and lean back, face the wind and look out onto the landscape.

I love the desert. Its rough mountains raising out of rocky washes. I love the angle landscape and the tricks it plays with my mind. Twisting my perception into another reality - a new possibility. The wind has silenced me and yet caresses my body. I am a small being in a vast desert. A pair of eyes looking out from a crack in the rock.

My mind wanders as I turn my view east. The mountains open onto a vast plain that is not playa. Do not make the mistake and think it is level. The desert is full of anglepoise plains that do nothing but twist your perception upside down. I see myself as a tiny self-contained being, wedged between rocks. Similar to this neural net Mez writes about. I've just finished reading Hyperion again, so Brawne's story is fresh in my mind. And the possibilities of enhanced brains with tiny nanotechnology nets that settle in our brainspaces. Kind of like my nestle between these two rocks.

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There are no words for the ideas that pour out of the silence of the desert. Only the audacity to make them real in some future reality.

Leave No Trace

Not from this weekend, but it might as well have been.

 

Let's just say, that heather once again forgets she has limits and blew right past them in her paramnesia. Sometimes the line between reality and non-reality is blurred - especially out in the desert.

Photos by Kmo.