On to the Desert, Part 2

 After a day of exploring the Tablelands, we settled on a campsite. It was located a little closer to Bishop than we intended, but that really was not a distraction, especially since later, another camper drove past our site and parked at a slightly higher elevation. He was a paraglider, and his rig included a beautiful yellow wing. It was soothing to watch him soar and dip as the day came to a close. 

After dinner, we settled in our chairs and waited for the night sky to be revealed. As we looked up and watched the Milky Way become apparent, I thought of our ancient ancestors who were probably so much more knowledgeable about what they were seeing in the night sky. As we continued to sit and gaze upward, a sense of awe enveloped me. I am convinced I felt the love of the universe that I believe is always present for each of us. I did bring my wooden flutes, and as I was packing for the trip, I envisioned playing one under the stars. Yet, the silence was so beautiful, I felt I should not disturb it. I have tinnitus (ringing in the ears), so I really never experience complete silence, but that night I came close. I let the flutes rest.  

   

The next morning I picked up my smaller flute and walked across the unpaved road that led us to this site. Some of you know that I intended to play a flute in memory and gratitude for Rev. Earl Kehert who passed away shortly before we left. He was supportive of my going to seminary all those years ago, and he introduced me to the book, The Land of Little Rain by Mary Austin. I knew I was in that land.  As it turned out, we did not go see her house where she lived in Independence. A friend of Tyler's who owns a brewery in Mammoth Lakes had invited us to dinner that night. Tyler really wanted to go, and I knew I would enjoy seeing Sean again. To go to Independence would have meant an additional 80 miles.  Yet, standing there looking at the mountains and again feeling so much love, I knew I was indeed visiting Mary Austin's home - the desert that she wrote about and loved. I felt complete. 

  

As I began to play, I was a little tentative, however I remembered the advice that I had received on a YouTube video by Charlie Mato-Toyela of Blue Bear Flutes. He suggested to play to the mountains, or to a tree, or to someone or something. Beautiful mountains were before me, so I played to the mountains, especially since part of the range looked like a person reposing on their back in deep rest. I thought of Earl with deep gratitude and I wished him well as his journey continued.    

I then felt that someone else was playing. I was no longer tentative; I simply got out of the way. I let the desert sing through the flute. When the song came to an end I spoke a prayer and wept. I then crossed the dirt road once more, and we left for Mammoth Lakes to enjoy some time with a friend. Yes, we rented a motel room because I really wanted to show up for dinner clean. Tyler tried to convince me that Mammoth was just a ski town. It may be, but probably for not much longer. When we arrived, construction was going on everywhere in anticipation of the ski season, and major high end hotels were moving in. Even after briefly experiencing the desert, such commotion was jarring.  

There is a part of me that always yearns to return to the high desert. Tyler loves the mountains and the trees. We will probably always need to find compromise, and that is okay. In November we will celebrate our 37th wedding anniversary.  On this trip we learned much, and laughed much. Where to next and when?  We do not yet know.  However, I am confident that love will show us the way.  On our way back across the Sonora Pass, I played to a pine seedling growing among trees that were struggling to survive. I was filled with hope. I still am. 

   

  

Love and Blessings to you all. Pack a warm cap; you never know when you might need it. Oh, and one more bit of travel advice.  If, as you are driving, you suddenly realize that you forgot to pack your shirts, I do recommend stopping by Big 5 in Oakdale should you be in that area. The staff was helpful and kind, and in about 15 minutes I bought some very soft shirts in lovely pastel blues and teals. Between Big 5 and a sporting goods store in Bishop (I believe it was Reagan's) where I bought my cap, I realized that my needs are shifting, and that makes me smile.    

  

           

"I lift my eyes to the mountain peak -
Where does my help come from?
It comes from you
Maker of heaven and earth
Who holds my foot on the path up
Who's constantly present
Everywhere aware"

from Psalm 121, Opening to You, Zen Inspired translations of the Psalms, Norman Fischer

          

     

image:  Camp site, September 24, 2024