this place is real
Something happened in the last week. The desert became a real place, with roots and complications and connections. All of the parts that I have been experiencing; the crystals and magical people and strange plant life all exist in this actual place that is deeply whole and still, and quiet. I have spent the last few months traveling down sandy roads in unincorporated desert-parts, smelling creosote stickiness and feeling the vibrations of each singularity. Trying to know this place, to map it, to be in it. And it happened, it just happened, it is home, and I know ME in it, or at least I am starting to know how to know me here. Joshua Tree is full of active citizens who do not want a Dollar General store built at the corner of Sunburst and Highway 62, and politicians who hold meetings at Pie for the People. I also took a job at a local coffee shop, where I now make lattes for people from far and near in a checkered pink apron. The desert is changing me; it reflects me back at me, and itself too.