Desert Institute

I feel my life has been brazed by a wildfire - in the past year. That is, fire has scoured the excess blockage, and now "what is" can be seen. My own open heart, my own poetic visions, my own courage and strength I'm finding to take the baby but strengthening steps into the path of a writer, to write and speak my truth, from the heart.

I had a wonderful weekend, teaching a California Desert Indian literature course for the Desert Institute at 29 Palms, California Visitor Center. A memorable experience with my second hike to 49 Palms Oasis in the past two weekends. A little warm, but not too bad.

Nothing like sharing stories, such as ones about the Chemehuevi and Serrano who used Oasis of Mara as their ancestral home for centuries - and being right at the spot while doing so. I missed the communal feeling and togetherness and spiritual connection granted last year by Matt Leyvas, Chemehuevi Salt Song singer - who did a beautiful ceremony last year with sage and singing and bird rattle right there at the oasis. There were many people in attendance at that one. What an honor, to have partaken.

The mood this fall is so different than last year. I was on sabbatical last fall, running mucks with my friend Philip all across the desert-scape. We took hikes to the Indian Canyons in Palm Springs - to Corn Springs way out near Blythe - several sites in Joshua Tree, including one trip along the road to Pinto Basin, and another to hike the summit of Ryan Mountain (that was one of my sacred visit frequent hikes, back in the 1980's, when I used to frequent the park from Apple Valley), and again on a cold day to the area near Black Rock, to climb a small peak. I was also privvy to exploring the closed-to-the-public Deep Canyon area, with my friend Cassandra, who worked there for one year and has since left.

Fall was mellow last year - was it Phil's steady company and shared love of the desert, or that I was on relief from the pressures of teaching, or that just a year ago, our country's economy was in pre-meltdown calm? I'd also not yet broken up with Jeff (or should I say, been broken up with,) hadn't finished co-authoring the Palms to Pines Birding and Nature Trail map, which turned out to be a big disappointment with a colleague (no book to follow, my colleague turning a cold shoulder on me in terms of doing events and dampening my enthusiasm for the map) - why is it that life seems to have been so much more innocent just one brief four-season round ago?

Phil hadn't yet lived with me, and moved back to Moreno Valley; Tarah hadn't yet decided to leave Pitzer and return home. I hadn't yet returned to playing tennis - hadn't yet done Phantom Seed magazine. Lots of spring poetry writing workshops were in store. I hadn't refinanced the house, and the desert anthology was still in the dark ages.

Now, the world and my life have both jettisoned ahead. Presidential election 2008 tomorrow - is it possible that the dark stain, the edgy burden so many of us have felt for the past 8 years, is finally to be lifted and cleansed? This, in itself, along with the crash and burn of the American dollar and the subprime meltdown have put everyone that much more on edge - I saw a bad car crash en route home from Riverside last night, and several more while on the road there and back again today for a doctor appointment. An edgy time, time to slow down and make conscientious effort to be focused. I listened to Jai Uttal and his Hindu-music blend on the drive there, and Joni Mitchell Ladies of the Canyon on the way home.

I just finished doing all of the intros and biographies for the more than 80 pieces. I'm still in a daze from working so hard. Phil has lived here, and moved out, and we're taking small steps at being friends and reclaiming our shared love of desert outings. I've published two issues of Phantom Seed, my new desert literary magazine that I edit - with huge success! We sold out of 100 copies in just a month's time, during October. I plan to print more soon. I already have many submissions for issue 3, which I hope to publish in March. Tarah is living at home, working full time making good money for a doctor in Rancho Mirage.

I'm doing more hiking, again, in Joshua Tree National Park. I've won an affiliate writers residency, just collaborated on a film produced by the CA Museum of Photography - screening this Thursday - and was honored as a guest speaker at the Oct 26 Desert Protective Council's Annual Meeting at 29 Palms Inn. I have met many amazing desert protectors and conservationists in this past year, particularly since summer. I've gotten a more solid focus on writing - although I've not written as much as I would like, since college started up in September, some big projects, to follow the desert book, are in the works, and ruminating in my mind.

It's weird to be "back" at the college. I haven't taught a fall semester there since 2005. Three years! I feel so much like moving on, like I already have moved on, sort of a ghost shadow partway there, doing my work, but also with such a wider scope now. That is what the sabbatical did for me more than anything - gave me the chance to ground my vision as a writer - make connections that are essential for this - and build a new life outside of the routine that my work there had become, since I moved here in 1999. This year, it finally feels like Tarah is grown up - a young adult, still, but much more grounded in herself and her ideas for how to live her life than she was just a year ago.

I have ideas of pursuing an MFA or PhD, now. I've learned so much about the CA desert, and have developed a parallel interest in CA Desert Indian literature, a subject which continues to unfold for me in leaps and bounds in accompaniment to the amazing body of writing that is emerging right now. I want to sell my house and move from Palm Desert. I feel so ungrounded in terms of where to go - but know some forward movement and flowering is already so in blossom within me - my inner self and outer circumstances. I see myself so much more now as a writer, and editor, and lecturer - and learner. I envy a friend of mine who is divorcing; she was able to pick up and move out of her house. I own my own home, so it isn't as easy as "I will be the one to leave." The only thing to leave is everything I've pursued and built here - no one to hold down the past for me and provide a nice backboard for my own forward momentum.

Mid life crisis - or growing-older wisdom and blossoming? Probably both. I'm a lot of steps outside of the old staircase I once climbed up and down, just sort of loping the best I can up a lot of new slippery but exciting slopes. I'm so glad I got the desert book introductions and biographies completed. It just about killed me. This is the first day in weeks that I've sat back and gone, "ahhhh." Now, it's just about finishing up getting some outstanding permissions to reprint certain pieces.

Off to bed - tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

I read Joshua Tree Imprimature last night to an audience in Riverside - it felt good and I think people were mesmerized. I was very rhythmic, which is just about right, as I based it on the pulse and pattern of the Navajo Night Chant.