I'm in Washington. I've been visiting v nice fronds, driving on rough roads and sleeping in my van at remote trailheads, trail magicking @muffyjdavis and @bornsirius , writing, looking at too many existential memes, and wondering abt the nature of embodiment. I've been walking my dogs on mtn trails in the fog and thinking "what is the self". I've been reading lots of books abt emotional disregulation and the ways that trauma shapes our brains. I've been thinking a lot abt how to show up for this ocean of sadness called the human experience. 🌌
This is all coming up for me extra rn bc I'm writing so much about my mom, for #TheSunsetRoute. I've been trying to make sense of something that can't be made into sense. Trying to tidy something that can't be tidied. Why are our human brains wired to long so deeply for Closure and Justice, two concepts that hardly exist (don't exist at all?) in the natural world. A cruel trick of the universe. My mom is a schizophrenic homeless person in Anchorage, Alaska. I haven't seen her in 22 years. I haven't talked to her in 10 years. I know that she's alive... probably. I don't know how to find her. It's very hard to find a homeless person, especially one who doesn't want to be found. Did you know? Our world is full of people, very alone, who do not want to be found. 🌌
In a few days I'll join @muffyjdavis for a bit on the PCT. Then we might go to Alaska and do some heartbreaking, symbolic searching. I don't know.
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Ironically, my father also lives in Anchorage. He disappeared when I was 4, and I found him there when I was 20. Meeting him was a disappointment sandwich, and we have no relationship.
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Also: not asking for advice with this post, so don't give me any, thank you so much. (Unless u know how to find a homeless person in Anchorage- then plz DM me.) My intentions with this post are to ponder the nature of embodiment and to help show ppl who can relate that they're not alone.
A few months ago I got a rly sicc deal on a chevy express van that had been mostly built out already- it had insulation, flooring, a roof fan, a fold out bed and solar. My friend Emma helped me add lights, another solar panel and a fridge, and I ended up with this sweet ass beast of a camper that gets terrible gas mileage but has p good clearance and is hella comfy. I'd originally intended to stay in Tucson for the summer, but then it got hot and our lease was up and I had this van so... I packed up the dogs and drove north. ✨
My first misshap was just outside Phoenix, when the van decided to die on the freeway in 100 degree heat. I managed to get it off the road and into a parkinglot with shade structures, where I poured water on the dogs and their beds and we lay there sweating and waiting for the day to cool. I had a hunch it was the fuel pump, which was a problem in my last van, in which case it shld run again after a few hours. It did and we made it to Flagstaff, where I spent a few nights in a motel while the van was getting a new fuel pump, after which it ran like a dream.
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I cruised north to Missoula, Montana, where my friend Margaret lives in an ancient crumbling punk house with 6 other queers. We ate food and went on dog walks and I researched good public land spots where I might go live out my mountain writing retreat dreams. I found some, and herein begins my summer of working on #TheSunsetRoute while squatting on public lands, wandering in the forest amongst the lupines, napping in secret clearings, eating lots of that precooked brown rice that comes in a bag and bathing with only baby wipes. In Montana the sun sets at like 10pm and there are like, so many flowers, man. ✨
Vehicle breakdowns and occasional walmart parking lots aside, it's going to be a p cute summer.
"A few miles of rocky jeep track takes us to a ranch at the AZ/NM state line, where we know from our maps there is a good, graded dirt road, one that we imagined our friends would be able to drive in their passenger vehicle. Our friends are standing next to their subaru in the gloaming, holding a box of cinnamon sugar gluten free donuts. Billie’s dog lopes towards us, her tail spinning like a helicopter propeller. I eat a donut and hug my friends. I’m not frustrated anymore, and my exhaustion feels far away. I’m happy, so happy." ✨
We finished the #mogollonrimtrail on May 15, and all posts from the trail are now up on my blog, link in my profile. Thanks yall, for following along. And thanks to everyone who donated to the two asylum appeal fundraisers I linked to the blog posts- we met our goals for both! 🎉🎉🎉 Which is so awesome!! 😀🎉🎉🎉
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I'm back in Tucson now, back at work on #TheSunsetRoute. It's hot. There are dogs. I drink a lot of iced tea. It's good. ✨
"The temperature drops as we climb, and the rain falls harder. I’m warm on the ascents but as soon as the trail levels my body cools, and I wish the trail was clearer so that we could go faster, I wish we were already at the vault toilets at the road. I visualize the vault toilets, a sheltered space out of the wind. I can’t stop to eat or drink, it’ll make me colder. I’ve got to protect at all costs the small warm room that lives in my core. I check in on Muffy- she’s cold too. I visualize us boiling water for tea in the vault toilet. Has there ever been anything better than a vault toilet." New blog posts from the #mogollonrimtrail are up, link in profile! 😀
"As we walk past the log cabins I think of how tightly we white people cling to the myth of the American west, of pioneers in wooden wagons, immigrants setting out and persevering through great hardship. Making due. “Conquering” the land. Thriving against all odds. As white Americans it is our only remembered ancestral connection to the earth, and I believe that this is one of the heartbreaking reasons we hold onto this myth so tightly. My ancestors were poor immigrants fleeing famine and violence in Ireland, but it doesn’t matter. Just because a people experiences oppression at one point doesn’t mean they aren’t capable of commiting even worse oppression onto others. Israel’s current occupation of Palestine is a good example of this. My ancestors were scabs, brought into the west in droves to help force Indigenous people off their land, as well as kill them. In order to create real cultural change, we’ve got to change the myth. We have to let go. We have to tell the true story of this country, a story that centers Indigenous people. It’s the only way that anything will change." ✨New posts from the #mogollonrimtrail up on the blog! Link in profile.✨
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Lovely glory, burning magic. Beauty!
Thank you for this whimsy!
Great shots…what a good idea!
exquisite.
looks like the end of time (or beginning) and you all made it
These images are so incredibly beautiful. I keep coming back to gaze some more. I didn’t know you were back writing and the day I discovered it was the day I saw these images. It feels like a blessing just to look at them. I can’t help thinking it must of been a blessing to be there when you were there!