“In Zen Buddhism, a master was once asked what was the most valuable thing in the world. The master answered that a dead cat was, because no one could put a price on it.”
Joshua Tree Camping, December
This has been in my blog drafts since our Joshua Tree trip in December. I wanted to find the cord to upload my DSLR pictures, but I seem to be neglecting that task.
I'm very excited to go back to on February 20th, I've been waiting to go back since we left. I wrote many pieces in J Tree, here's a clip of a journal piece:
I never thought I would be into camping. I like beds, I like toilets, I like wifi. I ordered a double sleeping bag and double foam/air pad a few days before our trip. I also found every cashmere item I have in my closet. R had everything else.
We piled into the car way later than expected, but I was on a freedom high, and I am never able to be upset around him for long. We got there a few hours before sundown. I have a love/hate relationship with short winter days.
He set up the tent, I unloaded the car. We were the only ones around, I hoped that would be the case the whole night. Soon a car came up the gravel road. Two men got out of a wagon with a "LIVEGAN" license plate. Ends up his last name is Coffey and they live in Marina del Rey. Home followed me here. Maybe this is home.
We finished filling our tent up with sweaters, jackets, cashmere blankets, our sleeping bag, and more. We had created a palace of luxury and warmth, despite our forgotten pillows.
I couldn't get over the beauty all around us. The silence. The sky. The peace I felt.
We put a bottle of wine and a tuna sandwich in his backpack. He made me put my ankle brace on. Don't ask me why I'll do anything the man says. If I were to guess, it's because his intentions are the kindest and truest of anyone I've ever known. Anyone else I'd say, "leave me alone, it's MY ankle." He asked me to bring it a few days before the trip. With his voice in my mind, I brought 2.
R climbed a boulder I said I couldn't climb. But he did it and I'm stubborn and proud and can do anything. But really it was because he said it was safe. We drank a small bit from the bottle, shared our cold dinner, and watched the sun go down. We listened to the playlist I created of songs from Spotify's "100 Most Beautiful Songs in the World."
No lasting fire, despite numerous attempts and a run to the store. I preferred the tent---luxury palace anyway. We talked about everything and about nothing for hours. I admitted I don't know his two middle names. With much wine in his belly, he got more upset than his typical disposition reveals. I hate that he felt passionate about it, but I understand. Over a year and a half where he remembers every detail of me, my stories, our stories together, and I don't know something as simple as his middle names. I never let him down so my heart hurt and I apologized beaucoup. I said his full name for the rest of the night to make light of the situation and attempt to show my devotion. It worked. He never holds anything against me.
The darkness and the quiet left us drunk on our feelings.
He asked if I really exist, if I'm real.
I'm not sure. But, I felt as real as ever.
Overwhelmed, my tears, the size of quarters, fell onto our skin. Zero degrees outside and I was red with warmth.
Without a bed, without a toilet, without wifi, I fell asleep the most comfortable I had been in years.