searching for the source

returning to reality

I woke up in a daze. 
I had waited for this moment for the last few weeks, debating whether or not to go, but the time had finally come.
It was road trip time.
I got out of bed, put my socks on, and opened the door…

And my roommate David was still on the couch. 

It was 12:40 AM.

And I realized my alarm hadn’t rung.

It’s safe to say I went to sleep immediately.

We had no idea where we were going to go.
I packed for both hot and cold weather and headed out the door.
During our thirty-minute walk to the parking lot, we weighed our options. 

Kings Canyon was snowed in. 
“What about Death Valley?”
Nah, too hot.
“Point Mugu?”
Thunderstorms.
“What about Los Padres National Forest; Reyes Creek Campground?”
The weather looked good. 
“Sounds awesome.”

After an hour-long detour to Trader Joe's (still have no idea how we let that happen), we arrived at camp. It was a walk-in camp and we didn't have a reservation. We drove in, and as I took in the view, my eyes found an all too familiar sign as a resident of the Bay Area…

LOT FULL.

Time to find either a place to boondoggle (basically camping for free.

but there are no bathrooms) or BLM (bureau of land management) land.

We started driving, visiting turnout after turnout, when we found a road that led to... "Nettle Springs Campground"? At least that's what the map said. We arrived, put our stuff down, and began to set up camp. We inhaled a package of chips and guacamole, made PB&Js, and began hiking.

This hike was an adventure, to say littler than the least.

We scrambled up peaks and slid down canyons; through heat exhaustion and altitude problems, shade became our new best friend. We basked in it and enjoyed each others’ company. While we may have lost a few brain cells, we also gained a couple in return.

The moment we returned I set up my hammock. 
As I began to read someone approached us. 

It was our camp neighbor! 
And she bore fruits!

As I inhaled (trust me if there was a stronger word, I’d have used it) the apricots she’d brought us from the farmers market, we listened to her story.

A taxidermist, farmers market vendor, animal tracker, and hobby guitarist and sawist (more on that later), Ariana Rose was mesmerizing. She’d been coming here for the last 10+ years and had planted willow trees, dug up a pond, and run most of the Chumash Wilderness barefoot and fuel-less.

We were all very clearly burning up. Ariana proclaimed she had access to the most luxurious pond… it was a pond, but with the water rising only to our ankles, it was far from luxurious. Nevertheless, we drank in the water, both spiritually and literally. 

In hindsight, I shouldn’t have been that eager to drink creek water… but so far so good! 

We rattled off jokes, told stories, and collected memories. One of us (cough cough, the acting major) seemed to think a struggling wasp was “swimming” in the water. 

We’ll never let her live that one down.

While the others headed to prepare dinner, I assisted Ariana in collecting stinging nettle (yes, it stung, but it’s supposed to be good for me [yes that’s all it took to convince me to sting myself with a plant {yes I know I may not be the brightest chip on the block}]). 

We then cruised up to Ariana’s campsite, and boy did she put my overpacking insecurity to shame! She had a fire going, with so many amazing food options! 
Gaga dabs (fava beans), sweet potato, corn, and her very own nettle tea (made from the leaves we picked)… it was heaven on the docs, whiskey on the rocks.

As Shilpa began to play Ariana’s guitar (Rosemarie), Ariana pulled out a saw and began twanging it with a violin bow in accompaniment. We sang, clapped, and harmonized. It’s hard to explain how magical these mere moments were; I can only offer you a glimpse through audio:

We ultimately discovered two things:

Coffin rub (the greatest spice mix ever) and a band name: The Source (featuring Springwater Ari, Wrinkle Ariv, Geronimo Collette, and Sound Shilpa) 

Later, Ariana and I ran a mile barefoot and it was Born to Run in real life.
I’ve spent the better part of the year fantasizing about being barefoot.
After this, I was barefoot for the majority of the trip. I was able to put into practice the words of Caballo Blanco, not merely wonder about experiencing them.

And was it a feeling.
Though choppy at times, it was light, swift, and nimble.
I felt at flight.

I felt free.

Hiker midnight quickly passed, and as American midnight came near, we grew more and more at home.

The night was medium long. Tossing and turning, dreams and wind chills plenty, a good night's sleep managed still to find its way in. Awakened by the sun I clamored out of the tent, sipping on cold honey-infused stinging nettle tea, I put my shoes on. 

Very quickly they’d be taken off.

I decided to I’d hike up the mountain we’d climbed the day prior.
At the base, I was reminded of Ariana’s experiences on these trails.
She’d done them all barefoot, grounded, and connected.

Off my shoes went, and off I was!

I fumbled and stumbled my way up, sucking in short breaths as I was stung by the shrubbery beneath me. Slowly but surely my feet began to feel comfortable in this new environment. They weren’t yet immune to the powers of prickle, but they began to expect them just a little bit more.

They say giving in to the pain lessens it.
I ran the rest of the way up the hill.
I surveyed my surroundings… speechless, there was nothing to say.

I was free.

As I slipped and slid down the mountain, I felt definitively altered.
I was closer to myself, connected to the world like never before. 

Shilpa and Collette awoke and we dined on bananas and overnight oats.
After breakfast, we began to read.
I picked up where I left off in When Breath Becomes Air:

“There is a moment, a cusp, when the sum of gathered experience is worn down by the details of living. We are never so wise as when we live in this moment.”

Ari joined us for our reading time. When she headed to her luxurious pool, we packed down our similarly luxurious camp. Slow, steady, unbothered by time or task, we unbound and bound. We wrote Ari a note with our contact information and gratitude, and prepared for a “see you later.” We brought her the note, planted popcorn, captured a few photos on film, and parted ways.

Data-less, we headed towards two sources of magic: either Santa Barbara or Point Mugu. 

Option #1 was home to the fairy godmother who brought Shilpa and Collette together: Salome. Full of energy, she exclaimed “I AM JOT BUSY” just as we began towards Option #2. We rerouted and were on our way.

Salome not only high school at fifteen and conducted biology research in the Channel Islands, but she happened to also be a part-time sommelier.  She was boundlessly energetic and offered Shilpa a free wine tasting. Many years ago I thought I’d never meet someone who proved the concept of “energy” again.
Salome proved me wrong.

She could bring light to anyone’s face.

After eating a wonderful plate of noodles and learning Collete’s friend was roommates with Bill Gates’ daughter, we headed to Santa Barbara Pier.

There we swam in the open water, ran on the beach, and added to our already lengthy collection of inside jokes.

Keep in mind, of this was planned.

Toward the end of our swim, I immersed myself in the water, got out, and hugged myself. The tingling feeling of dread (to return to the “real world”) disappeared, replaced by a renewed sense of gratitude.

We walked back to the car, debating whether we’d just swam in the dirtiest water ever or a source of immortality. 
We decided on the latter… at least I did.

We drove back listening to memory-filled music, feeling feelings, reflecting on highs and lows. The emotional experience was rich.

We got back and parted ways.

These two days were some of the most magical I’ve ever had, dare I say the greatest of my college experience. The only brand of time here ticked slowly, moving in large increments of pomodoro-less, randomness-filled, magic. 

This slow brought calm. 
It filled me with feeling. 
I felt whole.

Ariana said something profound the night before:

When I’m here it’s the real world. 
When I’m back in Santa Barbara I’m camping.

This weekend the source was found.

And to think this all wouldn’t have happened had I gone home, taken a wrong turn, or who knows what else!

This life is so beautiful.

I’m grateful for it, I cherish it, and I don’t take it for granted.

Being this in the moment, being this present, it is nothing short of beautiful.

And I can’t wait for more.