Monday, August 20, 2018

Otheworldly


Desert Memories

If you don't die of thirst, there are blessings in the desert. You can be pulled into limitlessness, which we all yearn for, or you can do the beauty of minutiae, the scrimshaw of tiny and precise. The sky is your ocean, and the crystal silence will uplift you like great gospel music, or Neil Young.”
Anne Lamott

The first time I drove through the Southwest desert with my husband of six months, I was barely twenty and leaving the nest of North Carolina for the first time. The vastness, emptiness and frigidness (it was January) of the winter desert sent me into deep sorrow. We ran into a snow storm just outside Gallup, New Mexico, with snow so hard and fast it covered the flat terrain in what seemed like minutes. The road became invisible. I started crying then and didn't stop until we reached Sacramento three days later. I'm sure my new husband just wanted to open the car door and push me out somewhere near Needles, Arizona.

The second time I visited the desert, I was closer to fifty, and I found it to be both foreign and beautiful. We were a crowd of 120 women gathered outside Oracle, Arizona for a week-long seminar on the Emerging Feminine—Jungian Analysts and Native American teachers in an enormous circus tent on a YWCA campground in the middle of nowhere. When we convened in the big tent each morning and evening, the wind whipped the flaps and swirled around us like a living entity. The feeling of being surrounded by the ancestors was palpable.

After that, I made regular trips to desert compounds to study with Carol Proudfoot, and learned that deserts are just as different from one another, as they are from the green mountains of my youth. Some are rocky, some have lots of vegetation, some have only sand and saguaro cactus, some are high mountain desert, some are oases with streams running through them. I was ignorant, and I came to love learning all the lessons the deserts had to teach. One of my favorite desert experiences was sunset. As Anne Lamott states, the sky is your ocean. The sky seems only feet above your head, and the colors are something out of this world. They afford the same sense of limitlessness that one experiences on the ocean when you cannot see shoreline in any direction. There are no lights, so the night sky is a panoramic milky-way.

One can see why the early Christian Desert Fathers wrote about their otherworldly experiences. Deserts feel like liminal spaces—where the worlds meet and otherworldly experiences are the norm. Here's a little bit of Desert Father wisdom to ponder today. It comes from Abba Anthony (3rd century):

I saw the snares that the enemy spreads out over the world and I said groaning, 'What can get through such snares?' Then I heard a voice say to me, 'Humility.'”

Good advice from beyond the veil. If you visit the desert, any desert, be sure to pack a lot of water, and a couple of Neil Young CD's. They'll keep you company in the vastness of your own contemplation.

                                                           In the Spirit,
                                                               Jane

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