June the 8th

I turned them in.

I don’t know what for, or why. They did nothing wrong that I saw, but the organization will find a reason.

But here’s the thing.

The organization could send in planes, helicopters, even drones. But where we are, those things would be seen miles off. Someone is always here, watching. The news and the feeling of strangers would spread through the small towns we got our food from. They would tell us someone new was coming. Drylab would arm up. Or leave.

So, despite their power, they must come like we did. In a nondescript van filled to the brim with strangers, the driver apparently normal for any that might see her. They must come in quietly, and leave quietly. The small desert towns have their followers and if people were stolen while they watched, they would speak. If someone came after them, they would filter through the cracks in society. It would be small, insidious, rumors on the internet. But if it happened enough times, and enough people talked to each other, and the discomfort and dissatisfaction with the government and the state of the world was high enough, change would happen.

The organization does not want to be a cog in its downfall. It wants to be a tiny, but important wheel in the machine of our lives.

The organization was not certain what the exact location of Drylab was. I had to move on the land to find it. Nadira and Kirsten are unsure how they found it. The organization had no record of it and even through my satellite communications, the position was indeterminate. So they asked me for it.

Here’s the other thing.

I gave them the wrong location.

June the 6th

I am sad. And tired. So tired. I had come into this filled with a sense of duty and the desire to commit shameful acts for the benefit of many.

They are shameful because I am a betrayer. I know that. I secreted myself among them, picking them up from the roadside with the intent of destroying their lives.

I like to think I have found friends, but none of them know me. They know a different me.

I lost my mind for a while. I saw things that couldn’t possibly exist. I saw words and people and stars and while those are the elements that make up a well-lived life, I know that what I saw wasn’t real. My words, my people, my stars are those of a trickster. I have no true understanding of those things because my intent was to break them, to vilify that which defined them.

They are my friends.

In Desert Time

SAF:

Time here is like a dream that has become reality, but one that has not yet fully been able to understand its new existence. The echoes of silence in my brain is now my waking world. The enchantment that exists in my heart has been blown away by desert winds and I find myself flying free. I am in a bubble of wakings, meals, and sunsets marred by the necessity of laundry and the sensuality of bathing. Time passes with only the end in sight and the present ever present.

BCC:

Time adheres to no man-made constrictions here.

Time, like the desert itself, abides by the sun. There is no need for a watch.

We rise with the sun to bask in the cool morning breeze as light creeps over the mountain.

High noon is the only place holder.

Three quarters to the sun directly over head – the heat begins to pound.

A siren of mortality alerts the flesh to seek shade.

Then we rest.

We slow down and layout, lowering the heart rate.

The worst is yet to come. The internal clock slows to a murmur and the layers of hot air sit  on top of themselves, elongated the day. But as the sun approaches the alternative horizon, the pace picks back up again. Bright orange-pinks flair out into the deeper blue sky.

Night is upon us. Time to gather and restore the bodies’ nutrients before we do it again.

We sleep under the stars in the yard with light blankets and neck support for an arena of dreams.

NAYARA:

The time passes differently in the desert, when you are out in the sun a few minutes feels like forever, but without cell service or internet time and days passed become a blur. The other day we went on a bicycle ride, we overshot the target by a few miles and ended up out longer than we had prepared for. We must have been out there for an hour, I honestly do not know how long we were out there because without cell service I don’t keep my phone on me and thus I don’t keep time on me. We ran out of water when we were about two football fields away, I could see home, which I knew had water there but it was so far away. At that point time seemed to stop and I could not get home fast enough, the few minutes to make it home seemed like hours, my mouth dried up and my salvia became foamy as my lips started to crack. It was the last few hundred feet but it could not end fast enough. However, for the most part I do not go out during the day because of this. Because of the lack of cell service and internet, time is now measured in meals for me. In the morning, I am often on breakfast duty I rise after the sun is up and prepare a meal before it gets too hot. Lunch is around the last bearable hours of the outdoors before nightfall. Dinner arrives once it gets dark, since it is too hot to eat in the sun, so we often have a late dinner. Bedtime for me is often once the dishes are cleaned, the meetings are over and most of everybody else is asleep. I do not know what day it is today, I don’t know how close we are to leaving and I don’t quite recall what month we are in now. None of this is important, what is important is that dusk is coming so dinner is soon.

MOSO:

the passing of time
understood by a series of numbers
7 days a week
24 hours in a day
1 o’clock
2 o’clock
and so on
society promotes schedule
be aware of the numbers

forget the numbers
let time be
adjust rhythms
the sun is your guide
listen to yourself
time will escape you
it was never actually important

KIRSTEN:

Measuring time here has changed. At the beginning, I was very reliant on my phone and computer for the time. Even thought I do not have phone service here, I would still carry my phone around in order to check the time. As the weeks have gone on and my days find a rhythm, time is more reliant on the sun and the actions that I associate with different parts of the day. When the sun is up, I know it’s time to get up. When the sun is setting, I know it is time for dinner and after dinner, it is time to sleep. At the peak of the day when the sun is high in the sky, I know I should be inside resting and taking refuge from the heat. Some days are different than others and there are still days that require me to use my phone to check the time, particularly on days when we have to leave early or go to town for food. I also measure days in terms of sleeps, as there are times when I am unsure of exactly what day it is. Instead of Tuesday, I would say two sleeps or nights from today. Once I began to organize my days around this new type of schedule, I found that they have started to go by very quickly.

JACK IN THE DESERT:

My phone is my clock. In the city I checked it often and by habit for notifications of one type or another. Noting the time was a perfectly good excuse for this compulsion. But there is no cell reception here, so: habit broken. 

I barely look at the time now that we are out here in the desert.

The increments of time are now told by the sun and the shade. There is short splinter of time when the sun cracks the horizon and the entire desert glows pinky-orange. This is one increment and its my favorite to wake up in. Then there is another, and its longer and golden blue. This increment casts shadows westward and it’s when we drink tea and talk in low voices and read or draw. Or hike. Or do physical work. The next increment is long and hot and bright and more challenging than the other ones. We each have our own way of moving through this chunk. And then it jumps to the eastward shadows when the tips of the desert glow golden yellow. This increment is for walks and blends into the next, when the sky is hazy and pastel. Then it’s the moon’s turn- she holds us in night until its time for the pinky-orange glow again.

SKIP:

Time has slowed down. I have slowed down. Gone in reverse if you can say. I use the elements to tell me the time. I rise with the sun and all her glory. And lay to rest when the moon is high above.

Morning tea bags remind me of the days passing. The cycling moon tells me of the days to come.

The moon, the sun, the hunger. Those are the time markers of my day.

Breakfast after tea. I used to skip breakfast, wake up and go.

Eat when I could, or worse when I remembered. Now I have learned to slow down, give myself time. Enjoy the morning coolness, conversations, contentment.

What do I run to? I don’t, I’ve learned to walk. Step away from the production line of make, make, make. Learn to live, to become present in the moment. The making will always show itself.

I know its lunch when my stomach sings the song of its people.

When the heat is reaching its max, I know it’s time to relax. Rest easy in the coolness. Not often found, but fabricated. Drenched sheets, shaded spaces, crafted breezeways.

When I rise, the heat has started to fall. My energy starts to peak and I find myself on an adventure. Walking, riding, searching, learning.

I return as the sun starts to set, switching spaces with the moon.

We gather for dinner. Togetherness, conversations, sharing, closing.

My clock has been swapped for a thermometer. The moon, the sun, the hunger.

June the 3rd

 

These women are infuriating. They speak of companionship and community, but they are blind to the tragedies of themselves.

Skip is silent and does not speak. She might have a glorious inner life, but who would know? Jack mourns someone who will never come and is beginning to delight in the loneliness. BCC: spends all day on a typewriter, a ridiculously ancient device, writing many letters and receiving only a few in return. Moso is strange, secretive but aware of herself and is a lesson in quiet regard. Nadira holds strength and compassion in equal measure, a contradiction to the truly strong. Nayara betrays knowledge that does not come from a peaceful life, but finds humor in its absurdity. Kirsten speaks of happiness and the happiness of others when she is sad, not considering that caring about the chaos that exists within other humans is the root of unhappiness, clear to those who have never been happy.

And what of me? What is my tragedy?

June the 1st

Someone has done this to me. I will find them. They will pay.

The security here is abysmal. Moso has begun locking her room and I wonder why.

None of the windows lock, however, so I climbed in. As I stood in her room, about to investigate, I heard someone clear their throat behind me. Moso stood on the other side of her wall, looking at me through her open window.

I don’t know if it was the cloud in my head or simply the flustered state I was in, but as she stared at me, I said, “I’m doing my hair.” For a while, I had been climbing in my own bathroom window to access the hair products I’d put there before the bathroom door locked me out. It made sense when I spoke it, but as the words left my mouth, I recognized the insanity in that statement.

She was silent, looking at me with an expressionless face. I skinned my knee climbing back out while she observed me, her arms crossed, head slightly back, lips together, and eyebrows up.

I don’t know what she thinks of me, whether I am a thief or someone driven to explore by insatiable curiosity.

I may have to kill her simply on principle.

May the 29th

flames roar down the road

tractor seated stationary

little white houses all in a row

tree in a field of dirt

ladder against cement

cafe sign bright

orange mountains, blue shadows

ravens on the roof

barbed wire tea

green spotted cinder block home

Restricted Recipes

Due to the extreme water scarcity, foods that require more water to produce are more expensive. Many processed foods require water, and others are simply not drought resistant. Meat and other animal products require the most water, so we are unable to purchase them. The war and social upheaval has made it very difficult to acquire foods in other regions, so we are limited to foods that can be grown in the Southwestern United States or California. They don’t have to be native, and due to the water scarcity and limited food, someone in the area is growing them.

Breakfasts

Quinoa Buffet

Prepare a batch of quinoa and serve along side bowls of roasted sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, ground flax seed, chopped dates and strawberries, and honey and peanut butter.

 

Tofu Scramble

tofu, potatoes, nutritional yeast, soy sauce, turmeric, onion, rosemary, cauliflower (optional)

Heat oven to 450 degrees, oil cubed potatoes, roast for 10 minutes, and remove. Roast cauliflower at 400 degrees for 30 minutes. Boil potatoes for 5-7 minutes. Drain and place in oven with onion, rosemary, and salt. Bake for 25-30 minutes. Mix nutritional yeast, turmeric, soy sauce, and some water. Whisk until smooth. Cut tofu into cubes and squeeze to remove water. Heat onion in pan until softened, add tofu and nutritional yeast mixture. Cook for 5 minutes or until liquid is evaporated.

the vegan bible, publications international, ltd.

 

Meals

Chili

tofu, onions, garlic, serrano peppers, green bell peppers, vegetable broth, molasses, pinto beans, garbanzo beans, vegetable broth, corn (from can or cob), lemon pepper

Toppings – tomatoes, cilantro, red onion, serrano peppers, red wine vinegar, fresh lime, fried masa chips

Fry the tofu in oil until crispy. Set aside. Add chopped onion and garlic to oil and sauté. Add chili peppers and bell peppers. Boil molasses with water on the stove, then add to pan. Mix tofu back in. Add broth, prepared cooked beans (or use beans from a can), and corn. Let boil to thicken, about 20-30 minutes. Serve beside bowls of finely diced toppings.

 

Butternut Squash Soup

butternut squash, red bell peppers, onion, garlic, vegetable broth

Skin the butternut squash, then cube. Put in oil in frying pan with chopped bell peppers, onion, and garlic. Roast in oven at 400 degrees or sauté in pan until caramelization occurs. Simmer in pan or pot with vegetable broth until at desired taste. Put in blender and blend until smooth.

 

Dhamma Vedana Curry

cauliflower, onions, potatoes, tofu (optional), ginger, garlic, frozen peas, tomatoes, mustard seeds, cumin seeds, turmeric, ground coriander, cayenne (optional)

Boil cubed potatoes for 5-7 minutes, drain and leave to cool. Put oil in pan, heat until smoking, add mustard seeds. Lower heat to medium and let pop. When finished popping, add diced onions, garlic, other spices and sauté on low for about 15-20 minutes until onions are soft and spices are toasted. Add tomatoes and their juices if in a can, cook for 5 minutes. Add potatoes and chopped cauliflower, stir until well coated, add some water if not much liquid. Cook 20-30 minutes, stirring often. Let sit for a while is possible. Add peas the last 5 minutes.

 

Leftover Tacos

tortillas, left overs in the fridge, food that is going bad

Fry the tortillas in oil until golden. Prepare stack of them. Roast or sauté vegetables, heat up food in the fridge and serve.

 

Snacks

Fried Masa

Prepare masa dough according to instructions. Shape dough into small 2″ patties, or make a few pancake-sized, and fry in grape seed oil. Eat with savory toppings like beans, tomatoes, or salsa. For sweet toppings, we use honey, peanut butter, and cinnamon.

 

Revised Soy Milk

1 cup soy beans to 1.5 cups water. Soak overnight. Use that water as gray water. Boil beans in water for 2 hours. Drain again and use as gray water. Allow beans to cool and place in blender with 5 cups of water. Blend until beans are of sand-sized consistency. Strain through cheese cloth. Preserve milk and okara (the pulp).

 

Berry Popsicles

Add fresh or frozen berries to pop molds. Fill to the top with water and freeze.

 

May the 27th

 

There is something more in the box, I think. I see things at the corner of my eyes and when I turn my head to look, nothing is there.

I was sent here because the organization I work for had heard of strange accounts in the desert. There have always been UFO nuts that congregate at the latest spot. Radios with signals that don’t make sense, voices on the wind, figures and shapes in the dust, strange mechanics on the ground, trash pits that are invisible ten yards away.

These things don’t make sense in an ordered society. Why have they been allowed to stay? They are nothing but remnants of civilization no one has bothered to destroy.

I saw the lights again last night and my thoughts are no longer making sense.

orange.      blue.      five.      star.

I think I’m going crazy.

May the 24th

 

We had visitors today.

They spoke of such illegal activities. Crossing the border, carrying food. They even said they did not bring their technological devices just so they would not be searched.

I feel I should report them, but they brought gifts just for the purpose of carrying them to those who could use them. They were kind and we ate their food. And therein lies the danger. Gifts and eating together builds companionship. I never understood how people could be so taken in by wrongful actions. Now I realize, it’s not the actions they are taken in by, it’s the people. After all, if the people who commit those actions are so kind in person, their actions must not be so harmful to society, right? I will report them in my next correspondence.

 

The strangest thing was that despite all the wonderful foods they brought, salmon, cheese, chocolate, it was our own strawberries I took the most delight in eating.

Just strawberries. So simple. Just strawberries. But strawberries.

 

May the 23rd

Words. The box was filled with words. Long, twisted strips of paper forming tangled sentences. I took the box back with me and in the privacy of my room, sorted through the contents. I was missing for hours and no one came looking for me. I take this to mean they don’t truly care about me.

The words were written by a man when went by the name John Smith, in the year 2020. He was a scientist who saw what was happening. He had tried to warn people the direction we were headed in. He left the cities and ghettos for the desert. The Mojave was as dry as it had ever been, but life remained. Snakes, birds, mice, toads, grasshoppers, ants. They continued their lives much as they had for thousands of years, humans a frequent deadly annoyance, but ultimately something to ignore.

I felt sorry for the poor man. He had such ideas and it is clear from his writings that he was a brilliant man. But absolutely delusional.

The state of the world we live in is not our fault. There might have been some predictions, but no one with a right mind and common sense believed them. And the world is not as terrible as he made it out to be. We created structures and materials that will last thousands of years. The footprints of our efforts cover the globe and our children’s grand-children will know it was us that created their world.