The Great Flood Comes Home
Soggy floors, happy heart
The moment I bent down to unzip my tent, I knew something was wrong.
It was the smell.
A faint abandoned leaking house scent floated through the gap of my front door.
Sigh.
Living in the wilds means working closely with the elements – fire, water, earth, air – and learning how to dance with nature.
I could build myself a house and be more insulated. But this also means being more disconnected. Out here on the land in Northern New Mexico I want to be closer to the flow of the seasons, to learn to listen more to nature, to become more fluent in what my dear friend Will Taegel called the Mother Tongue.
Nature was teaching me another lesson about her power, this time in the form of water.
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We had nestled my 12 x 15 tent on a road we tractored in last year along the north edge of the property. Franklin dug a trench around the south side of the tent, diverting any rainfall around and into the arroyo on the north.
I had one blissful week of being back in my home.
There is something so satisfying for a nomad to have special landing places to call home. I have many: this tent in New Mexico (which I call the Phoenix tent post wildfire; read last week's article for Part 1 of this article)
I also have books and clothes small trailer on my friend Gini's land south of Santa Fe, an apartment in Teotihuacan, Mexico I rent from my friend Emily, and a upstairs apartment by the creek in Woodstock New York that I rent for several months a year. And of course my mobile home: Aenea the Airstream. Each of these places bring a sense of stability, comfort, and joy. There are familiar items: books, altars, pictures, clothing. I have a toothbrush and toothpaste at the ready in four different locations.
Yet I consider my Phoenix tent as my main home, the place I can nest into and touch back into energetically when I’m traveling. We all need touchstones; places that reflect us back to ourselves, that are a respite from the world and a warm hug of a space.
I relished waking up in the middle of the night to put more wood into the wood stove. The sound of the zippers as I came in or out. Making coffee in the morning on my camping stove. Listening to the wind through the pine trees and softly tapping or loudly pushing against the canvas sides.
Before left for my travels I cleaned and buttoned everything up. “I love my home!” I thought as I tightened up the ropes that clasped the outside latches to secure the tent.
And then, the flood.
I came back from teaching in Sedona to soggy rugs, squishy floors, wet clothing, and mud everywhere.
I took a deep breath, noted that digging one small trench was obviously not sufficient for the days of heavy rain we had while I was gone, and started pulling everything out of the tent.
“Well,” I thought to myself as I unpacked my clothing boxes that had been stored under the bed, “I said I wanted to sort my closet. Here we go!”
Happily while the tent was overwhelmed by the element of water, it stood strong in the face of the element of air and the strong winds that come from the west off the mountain. Yay!
Later today five other friends and I will literally pick up each tent pole and carry the tent to its new, higher-ground home. Then we’ll move the wood stove, bed, futon sofa, kitchen table, and all my personal items back into their place. Home again.
We are currently day three into our Spring Work Party. So much has happened already: we now have a new wood stove in the community kitchen and a new glorious professional oven/stove on the freshly concreted floor. My friend Makenna visited last week and drew up a brilliant kitchen design for feeding lots of people; my mama Maggie and sister drove up from Austin (mom’s first time here!) and we spent happy hours organizing and cleaning the shelves.
Sarina who usually cooks for everyone is out of town, so my dear friend Gini (Bless you!) cooked and froze multiple meals for our crew. Jenn and Krystal are cleaning out the fridge and organizing food and meals. Franklin is currently working on getting our showers and bath functional; Kevin is on Peaches & Cream (our Kubota tractor) making a dry spot for us to move my tent.
Craig and Ernesto are building a dog run for Mystic. Mystic is currently alternating between happily chewing a bone and high-puppy barking.
The new list is complete of our Spring tasks; we’ll see how we do over the next ten days crossing things off and what new surprises are ahead!
Listen to Wild, Willing, and Wise in the Book Club Podcast
Omgosh!!! So many responses running through my head to all the things! Your tent is so beautiful (even the pic where it’s filled with mud) and that stove! 😍 Wishing I could have made it up there to be with ya’ll but I’m hoping for the fall!! Such a gift to witness all the stages of transformation.
Wow. Fire & now water! Thanks for authentically sharing as you navigate through the unexpected. Such a gift.