Birds Will Shit on You

We spent last week in Mesa, AZ. visiting with my son Peter and his wife Pam. They were here for a bodybuilding competition and we were there cheering him on. It was such a great visit. They are an amazing couple. Peter put in an incredible amount of heart and hard work and it paid off, he looked awesome. Props for all the dedication, determination and grit it took to get where he is. I am in awe and I could not be prouder of him and Pam is the girl to have in your corner. Super supportive, smart and beautiful. A gem.

And Mesa! Who knew? Hotter than Hades but we found an RV park with a super large pool and brand new facilities for a great price. It’s not Snowbird season yet so the place was kind of ghost town. Perfect! We found great places to eat fantastic food. Lots of farm to table, clean and green food. So nice to see this becoming a trend. Grabbagreen, Overeasy, The Cutting Board and Republica Empanada! So good.

We also managed a quick visit to the Mesa Art Museum where we discovered Daniel Martin Diaz. He had a showing of his drawings based on Milton’s poem Paradise Lost. It blew my tiny mind wide open. Thank you internet and DMD for having a website where I can take my time looking at your work.




When in the big city, we also like to take in a movie if there is one worth watching. That is not usually the case but this time we found one. The Wilderpeople. Go see it! Hilarious and beautiful. Shot in New Zealand, it’s the story of an unwanted foster child and his wild adventure towards finding family.

We had a short and sweet visit with Scott’s grandmother before heading back up to Sedona for a few days of cooler temps and hiking! We came back to the same spot we had on our way down to Mesa last week and found a group of cyclist women having a retreat. The spot is big enough for all of us and little did we know those girls would be my new best friends before the day was over.

We decided to ride a few miles down the road to the Palatki Ruins our first morning. It was a long hot and muggy ride for me up hills and I wasn’t feeling too great so we turned around and I was really loving the downhill until I lost control on that gravel washboard road and went down hard, ate a bit of gravel. First time that’s happened since I was a kid and guess what? That shit hurts a lot more when you’re an old broad. Shoulder, elbow, knee and hip tore up and hurting. I’m sure I’ll feel it more in the next couple of days. So much for all the hiking I had planned.  I’m not even up to hobbling.


Paige, Max and Ash…and Rider


So…Sedona.  What’s up? First time we tried to visit, we had to turn around and go back to Flagstaff  because the heat was just too much and forget about finding any hook-ups. It’s boondock or bust. Second time was good but we had only one night. This time, not a great start, though I felt super lucky to have the girl cyclists in camp. Scott rode back about a half mile to get the truck but forgot the keys. Cyclist girls to the rescue ! They dropped what they were doing to come and scoop me up. A BIG THANK YOU!!! to Paige, Ash and Max for  bringing me home.

I was kinda not feeling a whole lot of Sedona love at this point but then…

We went to lunch at Cafe Paleo Brio. That cheered me up. They have bone broth on the menu y’all and kombucha & vodka for happy hour. Among other goodness and it’s decorated like a cave!

I have this app on my phone called Field Trip and it pings out when we’re driving by anything of interest.  From the Historical to the Metaphysical. It pinged out Rahelio Mystic Tours here in Sedona as we were driving to lunch. There was a short article in Sunset magazine and a link to his website. Sweat Lodges, Sedona Vortex tours, Astrology, Shamanic healing. He does it all. There’s a lot of that kind of thing here. I chuckled as I read some of it to Scott after lunch and on our way to the grocery store.  So of course, Scott runs into Rahelio himself on the way out of the grocery store and makes a date for a sunset tour and if I can walk well enough by then I’ll be going too because that’s what we do.

“We are not there until we can say ‘yea’ to it all.”

Joseph Campbell


“As you proceed through life, following your own path, birds will shit on you. Don’t bother to brush it off.”

Joseph Campbell






Peter and Pam Mesa 2016


Pilgrimage to the Shrine of Our Own Inner Darkness…

Poor little blog. I have abandoned you for the lure of the quick and easy Instagram and Facebook platforms. I’ve fallen into the arms of #ing and photo filters and kissing smiley faces.

Sad face.







It will soon be a year since we began living on the road and it’s only very recently that I have begun to feel like it’s real. We’re not just camping. I am a Nomad.

Since we’ve been on the road we’ve had several family tragedies and fiascos which have demanded our full attention and participation. We’ve gone across the country twice. It has not been easy but it has been wonderFULL as well as awful. Life in high-definition.

I see and feel a pattern here. Huge, intense and overwhelming situations crash down upon us and we ride our little ship across the waves as best we can. We have crafted a sturdy vessel to weather these storms. They pass and we ride calm seas for a while. During the calm we take stock. We lounge and process and give thanks. We don’t wait for the next storm. It comes with or without invitation.

We’re in calm seas at the moment. Back in one of our favorite places. Up on a mountain, in a meadow of yellow flowers. A ring of pine forest surrounds us and the sky provides all the drama for once.

So it is time, pattern and distance that creates the rhythm of this nomadic life. And stuff happens in between. I’m rolling with it.

This morning we walked through the forest. It looks like it’s been a good monsoon season here in the mountains of Arizona. There are wildflowers still blooming but some are already shedding their party dresses, succumbing to the long sleep. I foraged yellow and blues and purple blossoms for some eco dyeing ala India Flint, the Prophet of Bloom.  There are pockets of sun in between the trees where Black Eyed Susans dance in the breeze.


I came upon this when we got back home.



An interesting article by  herbalist Claire Norris. 

she writes:

“The Black Madonna guides us through our darkness and represents the inner process of transformation. Her blackness has been attributed to the accumulated smoke from votive candles of the faithful, or the dark-skinned inhabitants of the Holy Land, or simply to artistic license. But we need to look deeper to the symbolic and spiritual meaning of her blackness—to the powerful attraction she holds for her devotees in terms of healing, inspiration and transformation.”

Synchronicity at it’s finest.

“This journey is not only about traveling to a particular place, but also about a journey to the depths within, a pilgrimage to the shrine of our own inner darkness.”

My only expectation when I embarked on this part of my journey was to find my way forward by getting quiet and listening. Attending to whatever presented itself. And so I have done and so I will continue to do.

I’ll be out in the forest picking a few Black Eyed Susans.

Camping with The Bobs

It’s been a helluva a ride.


We’re currently in the mountains in Arizona camped with The Band of Boondockers, The Bobs, a small band of nomads creating a nomadic community. Fun and interesting people parked in a meadow surrounded by pine trees under blue skies. We’ve only been here a couple of days and already it feels like home. Of course, that’s because wherever I go, I’m home. That’s a strange and wonderful thing.


The first night we spent around a campfire listening to music from the Dear Leader’s vast collection and amazing sound system. I could feel the trees dancing around us and their gentle applause. Last night we huddled into one of the trailers and watched tv and then spent a few hours in deep and open conversation. During the days we’re pretty much each doing our own thing. A perfect combination of solitude and community.


I found this on Instagram today:


The universe does this thing, where it aligns you with people, things and situations that match your vibration.

The higher you’re vibrating, the more you will attract things that are beneficial to your well-being.






Hatch and Hillsboro New Mexico

More from the ghost town.

A post shared by yolieom (@yolieom) on


There! Finally figured out how to post my Instagram pics here. Yay!



Chickens, Forests, Rivers and Moons…

It was cool and wet yesterday morning. Cool enough to see your breath.  North Florida is not anything like the southern part of the state. It’s lush and deep. Forests, rivers, lakes and big dramatic skies. It’s a wild and beautiful place made more so by the people we have been with here. The Moons.


the moons

What a gift it has been meeting them all, eating Ms Mary’s delicious meals, sharing stories and mind blowing outings! The Wakulla Springs! The earth primeval. Alligators, birds, turtles, trees and water bubbling up from the earth.

The Tallahassee Jr Museum! Hands on history. Historic buildings, native flora and fauna. An amazing place to spend an afternoon. Ms Moon’s beautiful daughters Lily, Jessie and May joined us with their children Owen, Gibson, Magnolia and August. Have you ever heard more perfect names? They were, each and every one of them, beautiful, sweet and warm people. It’s going to be hard to leave.

This is it though. This life of movement and stillness. I’m learning to flow with it.

Scenes from the last few days…


Ms Moon’s chickens! They’ve spoiled store bought eggs for me forever.




Owen and Kaleb and the blue Dinosaur at the Tallahassee Museum of Natural History.





self portrait at the Moon House, full of treasures and truly one of the most beautiful and love filled homes I have ever been in.


So…What’s next Universe?


Our time here at shhhhhhh!!!! Whispering Pines is coming to an end and I could not be happier about that.

It’s not JUST the train that rolls by our bedroom window, rocking our bed in a not fun way every hour or so, or the unsmiling folk that look offended when I smile and say hello. It’s not even that the weather has been so cold that I’ve only been in the pool twice! The pool was the main reason for staying here in the first place! It’s really just that my feet are literally itching to get on the road. To give my eyes something other than 300 other RVs to look at.

In keeping with my life as Mexican telenovela minus the tits and ass, we now have a new crew member. He’s short and loud and carries a bag of dinosaurs around.




He’s a brave little guy, down for almost any adventure so he’s fitting right in. Braving cold water, learning to ride a bike and dancing late into the night.  


So what’s next universe?




Life Interrupted

20160125_091305My baby brother died two weeks ago. He was 52, had just gotten married five days earlier to a woman he was really happy and in love with. His youngest daughter was/is about to graduate from the Naval Academy and begin her new life. He was an amazing father and mentor to so many people in his community and he was funny and sweet and a good son. He took care of my mother these last few years.

I flew to Florida and helped his widow make “arrangements”.  Spent a few very intense days dealing with all kinds of family issues and am now trying to settle into the idea that he is really gone. Not an easy thing this grieving. It takes it’s own time.

The Monk came to be with us and I am forever grateful for his presence in my life. He guides and steadies me. We’ve known each other since we were kids so he knows me and my family as well as his own. Knows every skeleton in every closet. What a blessing. He knew my brother well and loved him.

Tearful drove across the country like a madman to be here with me. He had his own profound and solitary adventures along the way. It’s not how we planned to spend this part of our journey but here we are. We’ve come to realize this is all part of the journey. Every wonderful encounter, every devastating heart break. This life on the road has one amazing aspect I did not imagine. It makes me feel awake to every moment, good and bad. No two days are alike. It makes the world seem fresh and new and fluid.

We’ll be here for a few more weeks before we head back west. There is not much in the way of “wild” camping here in Florida. It’s the high season so all the state and county parks are booked solid. There is no boondocking to be had anywhere near where we are so we’ve been staying at private RV parks. I don’t have many positive things to say about them other than you can have all the water and electricity you want and it’s not freezing but it’s not warm enough to take advantage of the pools. On the plus side there are plenty of Latin restaurants around so I am having my fill of Cuban and Puerto Rican food.



RIP Mike. Love you forever bro.


Anza Borrego part Deux

We wound our way one mile up a fairly steep, rocky and windswept mountain yesterday to find Marshall South’s homestead. I’ve been reading his Ghost Mountain Chronicles, the account of his family’s “experiment in primitive living”. I am soaking in it.

Something about this man and his family on that wild remote mountain has captivated me. An Australian dreamer, poet, artist who had a vision back in 1932. To flee from the modern world and it’s soulless drive away from the natural world.
They lived like the Indians. They roamed the mountains naked and barefoot and made everything they needed. They wove rugs and fired pottery, made a printing press for their poetry and drawings and they raised 3 children up there. Well, mostly. The dream went south when they divorced but they lasted 16 years up there and kept a journal of sorts which was published in Desert Magazine monthly.
So it was a thrill  for me to walk the path Mr South and his family trod and even though the wind was howling and we’re both fighting off colds, I’m so glad we did. As we were exploring the homestead I spied a tiny tent  tucked in among the mescal plants and boulders. An older gentleman stepped out of the tent.  Tom who is 78 years old,  was spending the night on the mountain in his super lux Cuban fiber tent. We had a lovely chat about Marshall and his wild experiment and he told us about his trek on the PCT a few years ago AND  the AT when he was 14. The dude is hard core. I’m thinking of him up on that gusty mountain top communing with the ghosts of Marshall and Tanya because they are up there I’m sure. Tanya gave up the ghost and left the mountain once Marshall started spending more time in the town of Julian than with her and the children up on the mountain. There is almost nothing left of the homestead. Some of the water cisterns they built, part of an old bed frame and other rusted pieces of things.


Scott and Tom @ Yaquitepec



View from the top.


We came back to camp and visited with the fellow Airstreamers who are spending the holidays here in the desert.

It was a fine day.





We had little visitors for a week.






It gave me a whole new appreciation for those full timers with small children.






We’ve enjoyed this spot and the little town of Borrego Springs. I feel like a regular at the Market and the Library and this place….



which makes a fine Ketel One dry martini.


The Red Ocotillo which makes a delicious crab cake benedict and Carmelitas for Chilaquiles.

I love it here and look forward to coming back in the spring maybe but I’m ready to head out. Tomorrow we move on. West to Yuma.

I wish you all the Sweetest and Happiest of Holidays.XXOO

Anza Borrego




Monday. I write that here to remember it. Monday, Wednesday, 7, 23, April, December? It’s become irrelevant in some ways. In other ways one needs to know what day of the week it is, should one need a book or a quick run through the thrift store, both closed Mondays and Sundays. The library however has a strong enough wifi signal to mooch from and they kindly provide comfortable benches right outside their doors.

Notable times here are becoming so not by times or dates but by quality of light. Early mornings and dusk when our long shadows follow, lead or walk beside us, up and down trails, roads and washes.

I love the desert more and more. The terrain is otherworldly and can be tricky. You think you can see far into the distance but it dips and rises making things disappear and reappear like magic. We’ve come upon seemingly abandoned encampments cobbled together from hay bales, furniture, wood, old phone booths and tarps and rock gardens out where you can’t imagine anyone working that hard. The only life, other than the occasional human variety we’ve seen are rabbits, birds and dragonflies. A hummingbird visits at least once a day, peeks in the open door, flits around camp for a minute and takes off until the next day while the dragonfly perches on the tip of the van antennae. At night the coyotes yip and howl late into the night.

Endless excitement.

Meanwhile our little nest/spacepod is becoming an efficient and cozy little hang about. We organize a little more each day as we learn our new way of life. It gave me great pleasure to organize the kitchen pantry and bathroom cabinet today. I marvel at how little we need and how well this little Lairstream suits us.
The van is finally clear of all the stuff we needed with us but didn’t quite know what to do with. There is a place for everything and there has to be, it’s a tiny space and we both like keeping it neat and tidy.

There is sometimes a cell signal at our camp but mostly not so…




It’s done. We are officially homeless and jobless. Currently staying with family until we pick up our home on wheels in 2 days.

I feel about 5000 lbs lighter in my soul. Letting go of material possessions…who knew it could feel this good.

Thank you Universe.


Poor lonely little blog. Sad face.

That well I fell down, it was deep and vast. I’ve pretty much explored 1/15th of it. I’m leaving the rest for breakfast, as my big boy grandson says when he’s had enough to eat.

Since August (!) I have gone camping again, this time to the Eastern Sierras where I taught a soap making class to a group of survivalists  and herbalists and I learned how to dye fiber and comb wool and make sourdough bread and survive the apocalypse. If it ever goes down folks, you want to come with me. I’ve got the soap! No need to be dirty or stinky. And I can make bread.



I came home and began “cleaning” house. Again. After 20 + years it takes a good long while to “clean” your house and make it ready to sell. Which we did. We are now in the throes of last-minute thises and thatses. We are almost all pared down to the bone and still searching for our home on wheels where we plan on living for the unforeseeable future.

To soothe myself I have taken up long showers and baking. Not simultaneously. The long hot showers are taken in the evening and the baking happens in between everything.  It all started when I discovered the Great British Baking Show. Oh my. I’ve not gotten on the scale since starting this little obsession because I can tell it will hurt my feelings. Also I don’t care. In a few short weeks, I will be taking very short showers and not baking anything. So.

I’m still delivering things to the forest though I’ve slowed down a bit. The baking and the showers and the selling the house thing has taken up most of my mental capabilities.


Digging Deeper

I fell down a deep hole when I got back from my Monk and Me Road Trip.

I haven’t climbed out. I’m digging deeper and excavating all sorts of stuff.

This morning I was walking through a grove of young pine trees. They were so green they were practically glowing but there was one that was long gone. Gray and brittle, limbs falling, not one spark of life left in it. The unlucky one?

Joseph Campbell was once granted an audience with Sri Krishna Menon and his question to him was, “Since all is brahman, since all is the divine radiance, how can we say no to anything? How can we say no to ignorance? How can we say no to brutality? How can we say no to anything?”

To this Sri Krishna Menon said “For you and me, we say yes.”

We can go ahead and say no. It will make no difference.

Just saying.


Here’s your moment of zen.



The 15 to the 58 to the 99 to the 5 to the 46 to the 101 to the 1.

And I’m home again.

That drive through the desert to get in and out of California is brutal.

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it seems endless

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I had to stop in the middle and the middle was just outside of Barstow at the beautiful and truly scary Desert Springs RV park.

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2015-07-08 08.59.06

It was a Steven King story in the making. Scarier than the previous night when I was camped in the forest alone and thought I heard someone trying to get in the van.

And now for the truly scariest part of it all. Babysitting the grand babies for the next few weeks.

God help us.

Standing in the Need of Prayer

I’m back in the forest near Flagstaff, surrounded by tall pines. No mosquitoes!!  Drove long and hard, through Indian reservations, a thunderstorm and a place called Hot Eye,where I mean to to go back and take a soak.

It was sad to leave my friends in Colorado but that drive down to Santa Fe and the day I spent there was absolute magic.

I spent the fourth of July strolling through old town Santa Fe with about a million other people. Place was packed! filled with artists selling their work and a bandstand right in the middle of the plaza with four old folks playing strings. A guitar,mandolin,bass and a fiddle, playing Blue Grass and though I’ve never been a fan it was captivating and sweet and I sat and listened and tapped my feet and watched the most fascinating thing on earth. Humans. Of every sort. A woman got up and started dancing and I thought, “there’s one in every crowd”.  I watched her face as she freestyled around the foot of the stage and was transfixed by the pure joy on her face, in her hands and feet and knees. She was rapturous. I went and sat next to her and we talked about how beautiful it all was. I drifted through the crowd, had a martini at a bar and then went to church. The cathedral of Saint Francis of Assisi where I walked and sat in the Stations of the Cross Prayer garden.  Beauty and horror planted there side by side. Blooming roses and lavender and Jesus on the cross.





I’m on my way home now.


Final Days in Colorado

Crestone, Co at the foot of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, was enveloped in a cloud of voracious mosquitoes that tormented us night before last. (Actually a few nights ago. I’ve tried posting but internet signal in this valley is very hit or miss.) We were a sad little sight tucked away in the van looking longingly out the windows at the rushing creek running just through the trees next to our campsite. Our huge campsite with picnic table and fire ring. We waited thinking the cool evening air would chase them away, but it did not.2015-06-30 13.33.27

We scooted in and out of the van to make bathroom runs and once when the monk was trying to get back in, the door jammed and he started running back and forth and in circles squealing trying to outrun the mosquitoes, I was laughing so hard I could not open the door.

The rest of the evening was spent talking, reading and then quietly listening to the sound of the creek. Lovely and sad.

A few nights ago, another mineral springs extravaganza. That camp had everything one could possibly want, including bunny rabbits running wild everywhere. A storm blew through that night and the monk and I had to jump out of bed to pull in the awning. The next morning the monk informed me we were drinking Genghis Khan’s urine, or dinosaur pee. I don’t know where that came from. I thought you all should know.

We met up with two other friends, Joyce from Denver and David from South Africa. We make quite the crew. You just don’t see many 6′ + white Buddhist monks with such an entourage.

We stayed at the Great Sand Dunes National Park for two days cloud watching, eating, talking and last night a movie on my little Chromebook.

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Here we are at the lodge restaurant where we ate so many meals we were on first names basis with the supremely patient and wonderful waiter Cody.


And what are the odds….While I was cooking my oatmeal in the van this morning, the young man (top left) knocked on the cabin door where Joyce and David and the Monk were, and asked to use the bathroom. They turned out to be such a sweet group from Sri Lanka, recently moved to Denver. The guy literally took three steps back when the monk opened the door and asked him ” Are you Sri Lankan?”

One of the many gifts of travel is the people you meet and connect with.


The monk “releases” a Quan Yin statue in the wild. Members of his congregation bring these statues to his temple when they move or someone dies or they no longer want them. The monk keeps them until he finds homes for most of them and some he “releases” in the wild. This one was placed under a tree, down a dirt road not far from a farmhouse. While we were there, three very cool dogs came to greet us. They’re the only ones who know where the statue is hidden.


It’s our last night in the valley and I will be sad to leave. I’ve fallen in love with this incredibly beautiful State. I can’t wait to come back with Tearful.

Everyone heads to Denver in the morning but I am still undecided which way to head home. Southern route or northern?