Semi-intentional intentions (Sunday, October 30)

Last night I found a beautiful campsite off a dirt road in the Caribou National Forest Land. I practically slept right on the Idaho/Utah border. I pitched the tent, cooked up some delicious cabbage with ginger, and snuggled into my sleeping bag to sleep through the cold night. That morning, I awoke to the sound of nearby coyotes and to a light dusting of frost that had settled on my sleeping bag. Already the second day and my senses were overwhelmed.

Before I cross the state line into Utah, I want to clarify a few things. Why did I choose the Southwest? What do I hope to gain from this two month escapade? What do I plan to see and do each and every day?

This is a huge country, and I could have chosen a variety of places to spend these few months. Yes, okay…there is an element of convenience to consider here. Southern Utah, Western New Mexico and Northern Arizona all strategically lie on my way to Tucson—where I will begin my next job in January. Also, these places are warmer (although not by much) and easier to travel to during the winter months than the Northwest states, another mysterious section of our country. But most importantly…these places are deserts. And although Montana has my heart, the desert moves my spirit. I still cannot explain the way that the desert of Chile and Argentina made me feel. Their beauty shocked, humbled, and captivated me in a way few places have before. I want to feel that way again. In the desert, you realize how small you are—both in terms of space and time. The landscape is vast. It is a massive space that contains multitudes of different forms and environments. From every vantage point, you can only grasp the slightest slightest percentage. The desert is ancient. Its formation has taken place over millions of years, and continues to change and shift today. My lifetime on this planet is so miniscule in comparison to its.

So here I am, exploring a part of the American frontier that few people have had the opportunity to see. This harsh country will test my resourcefulness and strengthen my independence in a way nothing else can. Our culture doesn’t provide us with those “coming of age” rituals I learned about in all my anthropology classes. Graduating from college? Smoking pot for the first time? Getting a job? I did all these, and while some of these achievements made me feel accomplished, I didn’t feel as though I experienced any grand transition. So over the past few years I’ve created my own rituals to mark transitions. I’ve gone West to live in Wyoming, experience the American frontier, and interact with the natural world. I’ve traveled around the world to learn different cultures and experience different realities. I’ve gone far South in the attempt to seek authentic culture and educational experiences. And then, of course, I’ve gone West again to learn how to explore a place deeper. Now. I’m going Southwest in the hopes that this “coming of age” ritual will give me the results I need.

In the meantime, I have the freedom to create a lifestyle here; one that I hope to continue in the future. Here, I am living as sustainably as I possibly can. Yes, I am driving a jeep; but because I spend so much time in one area, I use just as much gas here as I did living in Montana—which is about one tank each week. What can a person do? I cannot control the lack of public transportation to these remote places and I have no desire to hitch hike. So to counteract that, I am living a life without electricity and without running water. I am eating all organic and local food. I am separating my trash into recyclable material, compostable food scraps (which I trade to farmers in exchange for eggs), and regular trash (which I intend to accumulate only one shopping bag per month).

By living this type of lifestyle, I will be able to take the chance to SLOW DOWN. Even at Mountain Sky, where our bubble-world functions on mountain time and our lives revolve entirely within those 9000 acres, I moved so fast. Too fast.  Part of this is the life of the top-notch hospitality world and part of this, I’m sure, may have been self-imposed. Regardless, I barely found time to enjoy every delicious bite of food, to run each day, to follow the events of the outside real world, or to sit on that beautiful porch and take it all in. Such is life, and I cannot possibly imagine how anyone else, any person with a full-time job or a family, can actually slow down enough to enjoy life. But here, in the desert, I will move on my own time. I will respond to nothing buy my own wills and the wills of surrounding environment. I will take the time for yoga and meditation each day. I will cook each meal and eat it with gratitude. I will read, sit, think, watch that crow fly and hear the wind blow. I will find grace, rhythm, and poise once more. Hopefully, if I can better master this over the next few months, I will be able to make it a natural part of my every day existence—no matter the place or the occasion.

Truth be told, there could be any number of reasons why I am doing this. The fact is, this was an instinctive decision and I have come to whole-heartedly trust my instincts. It didn’t occur to me to find a temporary job to cover my expenses during the months of November and December. I didn’t even think to try to find a cheap apartment in Bozeman and collect unemployment. I didn’t think to drive all the ay home, no matter how much I miss my family, only then to drive all the way South again. This was the plan from the beginning, so I went with it. If there is one thing that I’ve learned, hindsight often reveals the true reasons for everything. Even today, I come to understand more and more why I chose to go to BU, why I became and RA, why I went to Yellowstone, why I chose to begin farming. So with time, I expect that all my unconscious logic will become unraveled. In the meantime, I am living my short little time on earth to the absolute fullest. I am learning to connect with my home country, and in turn learning to connect with myself. I am living, rather than making a living. This is my life; and I am honored to have the opportunity to live it.