dear comrades, readers, lovers, family & homeslices,
i have been preparing for this day my entire life.
(or, at least seriously for the past two or three weeks).
i’m conveniently writing this from the comfort of my own rural northeast missouri farm community home on the eve of the 15th of november (i can do this trick where i schedule a post for some time in the future – so that’s what i’m doing. time traveling.)
tomorrow – meaning the day this future-dated post posts itself, i leave to return to black mesa, arizona to be on-land support with navajo elders who are part of a 40-year legacy of resisting forced relocation at the hands of peabody coal mining company in cahoots with the u.s. government. (more here.) i’ll be at black mesa for 2 1/2 weeks with two of my farm-mates (trish and baigz)… herding sheep, fetching water, cooking food, eating grandmother’s frybread, sweeping all that desert dust off those slabs of rug, watching the first light of day – a thin red line – appear outside the thin-paned window, writing letters and postcards to you in candle-light/headlamp light, doing ridiculous photoshoots out on the mesa just to get my yah yah’s out, cleaning wool, playing old maid with grandmother, walking and walking and walking that great juniper-bush’ed expanse until my feet finally make friends with my hiking boots just as i am about to depart. and sleeping deeper and dreaming harder than i’ve ever slept/dreamt before in my life.
after that, i break away from my farm-mates and hop on a greyhound in flagstaff to land in tucson where i will train for a day and then head out to base camp in the mexico/u.s. borderlands with no more deaths/no mas muertes where i will be providing basic medical aid if need be and hauling gallons of water and cans of food to leave for migrants traversing the hostile territory.
in some ways, despite the two intensive weeks of some massive crossing-off action on some serious to-do lists, i know i’m not ready for this. i never will be.
i have an extraordinary sense of all the people i will be carrying with me (and who will keep me warm) out there (partly due to this gofundme campaign i posted and the responses it elicited [and how i found, while i was blown over by people’s generosity with their dollars, what really gets me is how deep the streaks of care run through them]… and partly due to the ways all the brilliant people in my life share slices of themselves for me to take) – and it feels profound.
i keep re-learning that one of my deepest desires is to connect with humans (and connect them to each other) in depthful, meaningful ways – and to carry as many people inside my ribcage as possible. as i am approaching the threshold (between being here and being there), that threshold clears everything that blurs my vision and it is showing me that i’m packed to the edges of my skin with you. all of you. your glimmerings and busted hearts and reachings towards what you desire…. your scared parts and courageous parts and thriving parts and healing parts and all the places where those parts overlap.
what i’m saying is, i couldn’t feel any more grateful to carry the gold that is you (all of you!) inside my own light. and out on that mesa and out in the militarized zone, i will hold my light folded in your light up to that desert sun in the deepest gratitude i have for being connected to you in this world.
more ache and light than you could ever know,
(p.s. all that is to say, i’m going to be mostly off the grid for the next month and a half and will do my best to catch up when i can.)