mexico, part 3.

we rode in a cattle truck to get here. the wind blew in my hair, and even around the tightest corners, looking over the steepest ledges, i wasn't afraid. i was too alive to be afraid. the town was beautiful, and small. dylan and i stood on the back porch looking out, as small children peeked out between cracks in the walls to giggle at us, and wave shyly. they are the same people as the people in matzam - these people had moved to this area from matzam. they farmed here, and then about 70 families moved onto their land and settled the town.

in church, we sang amazing grace in three languages. and for a moment, the sun was shining into this small church, and i felt like i was absolutely sure of what life meant, again. i held all of its meaning in my hands, that were open and facing towards the sky.

we shook everyone's hands. and some of the women cried, and i couldn't figure out why. i felt so far from them in this moment. i wanted to tell them, but i couldn't, that i am the grateful one. i am the one who is lucky to be in your presence. you are the beautiful ones, you are the wise ones. instead of saying that, i just called them my sisters and my brothers while they walked past me and shook my hand.

i couldn't help but keep thinking, "this is what life is!" - this is a woman who is actually beautiful, and this is a way of life that is actually meaningful, and this is actually community - and i felt so free from myself. like i didn't even matter at all. and that is the single greatest feeling that you can feel when you are surrounded by such love, compassion and belonging.

mexico, part 2.

martha the great.

tavita

mexico

the moment that i landed and breathed the air, i knew that i was living again. the sun was setting in the rear view mirror, and i saw my reflection on the backdrop of the mountains. my hand was out of the window, catching the rays of light.

i got the opportunity to go back for two months this summer and i'm really excited. i won't be spending the whole time in matzam, which is a little disappointing - but we will be back there for at least one week. i'm looking forward to seeing more of mexico, in general, and also getting to know the missionaries, jan and pablo better.

the people in matzam were the most joyful, incredible people i've ever met. i felt connected to them, despite the fact that we could hardly speak with each other. some of men spoke spanish, but they mostly spoke their native language. slowly, but surely, in living together for a week and working together, we grew closer. we laughed together and built a church together and ate together and got soaked in rain storms together.

for a single week i felt free from so much - judgment, and anxiety - life is just so simple there. it's amazing the ways that we've created all of this commotion and have disguised it as life. and so, i get to go to back to mexico, in search of life. in order to live.

philadelphia / first of spring

these photographs are average.

the weekend, on the other hand, was not.

getting to see mark kozelek live was the single most amazing experience of my life, yet. and i mean that, completely. it was good to be gone for the weekend. and with really good friends. i just felt lucky to be able to spend such a sweet, warm and bright weekend doing so many lovely things with people who make me feel good. happy spring.

snow day thoughts

today was my first snow day of the year. yesterday, i was feeling pretty sick. so today was spent mostly inside. around 5:00, the apartment turned blue, as the sun was almost completely down and the outside turned from daylight to twilight. i looked out of my living room window and the courtyard below reminded me of movies i've watched about the holocaust. something about the brick buildings, the lack of trees, the emptiness, the snow falling, the depressing blue color - it's like what i imagine auschwitz to have felt like. i saw birds flying in the sky above this courtyard - and i started wondering what people who are imprisoned think about birds. jealousy? or hopefulness? i'm not sure - probably a range of emotions. i watched a documentary on micheal jackson fans once who stand outside of neverland daily. they wait by the gates in hopes that they might be let in, or they might see micheal jackson. one of the women said, "those of us who wait here, we're jealous of those birds. they have the freedom to fly in and out of neverland. we wish we were birds." it made me think of this. my dad gave me this book a year ago. i read it sometime last summer.

it's from wallace stenger's book, "the sound of mountain water." the section of this book is called the coda - it's a letter. you should read the book if you can. the part i pulled out is just from the first few paragraphs.

dear mr. pesonen:
i believe that you are working on the wilderness portion of the outdoor recreation resources review commission's report. if i may, i should like to urge some arguments for wilderness preservation that involve recreation, as it is ordinarily conceived, hardly at all. hunting, fishing, hiking, mountain-climbing, camping, photography, and the enjoyment of natural scenery will all, surely, figure in your report. so will the wilderness as a genetic reserve, a scientific yardstick by which we may measure the world in its natural balance against the world in its man-made imbalance. what i want to speak for is not so much the wilderness uses, valuable as those are, but the wilderness idea, which is a resource in itself. being an intangible and spiritual resource, it will seem mystical to the practical-minded - but then anything that cannot be moved by a bulldozer is likely to seem mystical to them . . .

something will have gone out of us as a people if we ever let the remaining wilderness be destroyed; if we permit the last virgin forests to be turned into comic books and plastic cigarette cases; if we drive the few remaining members of the wild species into zoos or to extinction; if we pollute the last clear air and dirty the last of the silence, so that never again will Americans be free in their own country from the noise, the exhausts, the stinks of human and automotive waste. and so that never again can we have the chance to see ourselves single, separate, vertical and individual in the word, part of the environment of trees and rocks and soil, brother to the other animals, part of the natural world and competent to belong in it. without any remaining wilderness we are committed wholly, without chance for even momentary reflection and rest, to a headlong drive into our technological termite-life, the brave new world of a completely man-controlled environment. we need wilderness preserved-as much of it is still left, and as many kind-because it was the challenge against which our character as a people was formed. the reminder and the reassurance that it is still there is good for our spiritual health even if we never once in ten years set foot in it. it is good for us when we are young, because of the incomparable sanity it can bring briefly, as vacation and rest, into our insane lives. it is important to us when we are old simply because it is there - important, that is, simply as an idea.

california, 4 / joshua tree national park

it took us about 2 hours to find our campsite. kate and i spent a few hours in the town of joshua tree at a bar - we left early because they made us a vodka and coke, which tasted like hell, and because the irish heavy metal band didn't really suit either of our tastes. the bar was like every other establishment that we visited before we returned back to civilization at a subway in bakersfield - it was strange. and full of the same odd mixture of people. outside of the bar there were people who were missing limbs, hanging out in wheel chairs, and drinking liquids out of gallon bottles. inside the bar there were military men - really, a lot of them. and their ugly wives. but since joshua tree national park is such a hot spot for bouldering/rock climbing, you've got tons of hippies and twenty-somethings from L.A.

once we finally found our campsite, after getting to know the road between joshua tree, the town, and twenty-nine palms (the weirdest place i've ever been), we finally found our campsite. it was beautiful to drive through the park at night, although it was discouraging at times since we were tired and ready to find the campsite - but it was interesting to see the colors, rock formations and landscape change through the little light we saw from our car. once we got out tent up, we spent the evening on the picnic bench. i tried to climb the beautiful rocks behind us in my socks. we drank - a lot. the sky was awesome. and i like to think that kate and i shared one of my favorite, most real, and honest, and hilarious nights of our friendship yet. and like most wonderful nights like that, i don't really remember very much of it.

in the morning we woke up, and behind us we found a beautiful sun rising over some beautiful rocks. the park was busy - not with cars, but with people climbing these rocks. the rocks were similar to the ones in arches national park. i thought of camping with my dad there. i also thought about steve a lot this day and kept wishing i could be there with him. i don't think most people come here to see the trees. but i came to see the trees.

after leaving the park, we spent some time in the town of 29 palms. after leaving the town (nicknamed the "city" of "murals" - there's a mural on every (probably about 25, total) buildings) we drove up to death valley. i can't figure out why i don't remember most of this drive - except that we spent most of it in alien land of a new kind. driving down these long, 2 lane roads, where you pass nobody, except for huge military tanks, and there are beautiful desert mountains all around you - sand dunes that go on forever.

we did stop in a small near the nevada border, and had the best date cookie of my life. and saw an awesome elvis impersonator. if you've got the time, googlemaps the area between joshua tree national park and death valley. you'll understand. the desert is the type of place that can erase your memory of it.

california, 3 / salvation mountain + desert

while looking through these photos, i found myself listening to some old christian music. i was drawn to the music for other reasons, but kept it on once i started sifting through these images. kate and i woke up in san diego after a really nice evening and morning with her bother and his wife. they were a sweet couple - interesting, and smart, and really comfortable to be around. it was nice to see kate with them, i could tell she felt close to them, and it made me glad. the drive from san diego to niland (where salvation mountain is) is mostly driving through strange desert towns. it seems like people are either addicted to meth or work for the military (border patrol and large amounts of government land set aside for various military uses) or are hippies on acid from LA trying to get a break from the city.

i've always wanted to go to salvation mountain - well, ever since me, and everyone else, saw the into the wild movie. kate and i planned the trip mostly around seeing this place. and it was everything i thought it'd be.

leonard knight was kind. and old. and forgetful. and mostly incoherent. but he managed to give me about 400 postcards from the joint for free. if you'd like one, let me know.