Deep Thoughts Alert; existential musings ahead.
I had a good week at the Xscapers Bash. I’ve written so much about the joy of meeting new people and hearing their stories from all walks of life, I surprised myself by deciding NOT to join social gatherings at every opportunity. Sometimes I’d survey the groups of people chatting, and just decide to go be by myself in the van. At first I was judging myself for feeling shy and timid, but then realized I was doing what I preferred to do, rather than what I thought I should do. When an attendee asked me how the week was going, I described this departure from my usual attitude. He said, “You’re just full of people, and isn’t that great?” Nice.
There was a talent show, so I did my staple, The Avocado Song. Over the week I did make some really nice new connections, and gained a deeper awareness of the full-time nomad community. And it IS a community. I was describing my itinerary and how my trip will last until at least May 2027, and I got another pearl; “It isn’t a trip; it’s a lifestyle.” There were some great bands. Check out Rattlesnake Suitcase and Atlas Falls. The theme for the gathering was Route 66, which is in its centennial year. It became the primary route for migrants fleeing the Dust Bowl. The movie “Cars” is based on it. But really, the story of Rt 66 is the people who lived alongside it. It was designed specifically to go through the small town main streets. It became known as The Mother Road.
The last night of the gathering we went roller skating! I hadn’t been since middle school. I remember exciting times when they called couples skate, and you got up the courage to ask your crush. There was the one time in New York I thought I could save time between piano lessons by wearing roller skates so I could get to the next apartment sooner, but you can guess how that turned out. So, 55 years later, I did very well, I’m happy to report. Only one big fall with no injuries.
The next day there were the heartfelt hugs and goodbyes, and I was off to the Grand Canyon. In honor of the RV theme I took Historic Route 66 through Oatman, an abandoned gold mining town, now revitalized as a tourist destination. The miners had left the burros they had used as beasts of burden to fend for themselves, and now their descendants roam the streets of Oatman getting fed by tourists. It was a longer way to Grand Canyon, but I felt like I was riding on history.
Sharon and I were at Grand Canyon several years ago during my sabbatical. I’m afraid I’m veering into being maudlin, but I still went and found the cabin where we stayed, I hiked some of the same trails and had lunch in the same lodge.
But, to the deep thoughts. The first time I saw the Grand Canyon, I was struck by the sense of timelessness, for these canyons and “temples” to be as they stand now. Six million years ago isn’t even that long for such erosion from what began as a shallow sea. The uplift is still happening, and the canyon gets deeper by the width of a sheet of paper each year. When I went on the rafting trip last March, the guides would tell us about the sediment layers and inform us when we had gone a few million years deeper into the earth’s crust. At one point I leaned over to a friend and said, “It’s funny to think that we are a future sediment layer.” I think
I may have written that in an earlier post.
Along the Rim Trail, there is the Trail of Time, where every meter represents a million years. You can walk the whole timeline (horizontally) from the oldest rock at the bottom to today at the top, a little more than a mile. You can go the other way until you get to the age of the Earth, 4.65 billion years. I walked the whole thing up and back, about six miles. I thought about my (as of today!) 67 years completed. The same number of years Sharon completed. I considered how many more I may or may not have. I mused on how insignificant our dramas are, and how precious every day is. I’ve said to a few people today, “Every day is a bonus”, and I really feel that way. The beauty of the Canyon, the magnitude and the magnificence, both dwarfs and magnifies the spirit. You feel meaningless in its presence, but simultaneously part of the whole of Creation. And then you get lunch.
I was surprised today when Eva asked me to hop on a Zoom call, and suddenly there were a bunch of my friends who sang Happy Birthday (by Mildred and Patty Hill), with all the audio latency that goes with the experience! Eva had worked out the whole thing. I miss y'all. I had a beautiful ride down to Flagstaff and am staying with Anya, a friend of Eva's who took me out with other friends to Black Bart's, a steakhouse with waiters that sing Broadway show tunes. It was a pop-up party! My first birthday on the road.
I’ve come to the part of the country where I don’t know anyone, but as if on cue, I’m integrating with the nomad community and using newfound apps that connect friends whose paths intersect. I don’t feel alone. Or I should say, I don’t feel lonely. And I’m getting better at being alone and liking it. I kind of forced that confrontation with myself by embarking on this journey. But now that I think about it, making the choice to live in a van was easier than sitting around by myself at home. I get new vistas every day! Time seems to expand six-fold. It’s not a trip. It’s a lifestyle.