Sunday, November 23, 2008


These are good friends who have scattered themselves to enjoy solitude.
The stealth trailer "claims" its hundred acres of solitude.
My friend Pete, a very clever engineer. His is the most fine tuned rig in boondocking history. Worthy of a separate blog. He sits, soaking in the sun. I kept this respectful distance.
General George Patton commanded war games here 68 years ago in preparation for invading north africa. The evidence is everywhere.
120 miles west of Phoenix and 5 miles north on hwy 95 is
La Paz valley (valley of peace)–well named because here is where mobile people come to get away from it all. Photos suggest how we scatter into solitude–to pull ourselves together–when we are weary of groupiness. I claim my spot and settle in—I’m deliciously alone in the desert. I tune in my electronics–locate the tv satellite, turn on my cell phone, place my verizon air card in the window. (4 bar reception–good!) My satellite radio is always ready. Yes, I’m here for solitude and yet I’m connected to the whole world. I can theoretically interact with anyone in the world, but I don’t want to interact PERSONALLY with anyone for a while. Most, I presume can identify with the paradox.

Next day, curious how alone I am, I scan the horizon with my binoculars and surprise, I can see 4 of my friends rigs scattered widely , each separated by a quarter mile or so.

Probably they’re here as I am to LET NOTHINGNESS HAVE ITS WAY WITH ME. I welcome it like I often welcome the darkness letting it slowly envelope me like water wraps around a sinking ship. Oh how sweet! Perhaps it’s a form of cocooning–like enclosed insects we are self contained and hopefully we too are quietly transforming. Time, quiet and solitude “knits up our raveled sleeve of care.”

I don’t demean the social hubub I have left–it’s been good for me. But like a trip to the marketplace, I come “home to myself” to sort and savor my gains. Four days later I’m out of my cozy cocoon, refreshed and ready to go venturing..

This wonderful place is no secret. I show you the red highway from Quartzsite, Az to Bouse; 30 square miles of free clean desert. Come find your place, your peace–and heal.


songbird said...

"Come find your place, your peace - and heal."
Really fine advice. Which reminds me of advice from Veronica today. An excerpt:
"It is important to take notice of the embracement of drama and its ability to spiral into more complicated predicaments. It is at that point where the dread of continuance can cause severe depression and immobility. This overwhelming experience puts the souls of many in jeopardy due to the lack of movement in their energy.

To remedy this moment it is necessary to pause in the linear creation you are experiencing. Attempt to stop the unnecessary chatter in your head while focusing on a quite moment connection with your energy.

If it appears impossible, it is imperative to provide for yourself the silence. If you have the time to be miserable indeed you have the time to reconnect to your soul."

Another great blog. Thank you.(The wise is gone.)

Anonymous said...

A Wise Man once told me that "most people underestimate their need for other people." So put that in your pipe and smoke it, while you hide out in the desert, hermit-style. (grin)

Randy said...

Thank you songbird for a great quote---so true and well said.

And to anonymous: You are not anonymous to me I recognize your style. And isn't it quirky that we've changed places---I say it is irony--not hypocrisy.

bushrod said...

I don't understand much of what "Songbird" is saying beyond the dangers, perhaps, in solitude.

But the article is very meditative, and meditation is something I practice. One tries to go behind the mechanical, the robotic, (and Anonymous's meanness)to what's alive. The hole in the donut, if you will.

Now, it is interesting that extreme RVing and watching one's thoughts cross paths.

"Killer wants to go to college" from Paul Simon's Musical, The Capeman...means that some one's reactionary habits need to become educated. Or in another theme, the Robot wants a Soul. See what I'm saying? As one ages, we kind of concentrate on what's alive.

Evolution programs us to live. Machines don't live. Meditators go to the hole in the donut hoping to escape slavery, and sometimes we do.

Bienvenu, muchachos.

Randy said...

Thanks Bushrod for your insightful comment. Much to chew on. "Robot wants a soul." Is an incredible concentration of wisdom in 4 words. I will make it a part of me.