And another month has come and gone. I cannot believe it’s been almost 30 days since I took my little day trip to the Tohono O’odham Cultural Center and wrote here. No wonder I felt due for another excursion. I drove to Cascabel, Arizona, a ghost town in neighboring Cochise County. Wildflowers. Dirt roads. Solitude. A Tucson friend takes stunning pictures of things and turns them into notecards and the like. He brought me a sampling to rifle through and pick what I wanted. I was smitten by a picture of a majestic eucalyptus tree shading a dirt and empty road. He had taken the shot in Cascabel on a trip to nowhere (like-minded people), so I retraced his steps. Come to find out, a fight for the land around the area has been brewing for six years now and is set to be settled this year. Developers. Humans. We’re just horrible people.
Nature and only nature always helps me. A Library Associate at a community college in New Mexico? I didn’t get the job. A digital content associate at a monastery outside Portland, Oregon? I didn’t get the job. An Adult Education Administrator for the Pascua Yaqui tribe? I didn’t get the job. An Associate at an Essential Oil Aromatherapy shop here in Tucson? I didn’t get the job. An Assistant to the President at the Tohono O’odham Community College? I didn’t get the job. A Program Administrator at my beloved Oldenburg Franciscan Retreat Center? I didn’t get the job.
But I’m recognizing what excites me (excite is too strong a word, for now), and I’m trying. I’m also throwing my resume in the ring for other things, the more practical and sensible things, so there’s that, too. My Desert House of Prayer part-time work is coming to a close because Father Tom is leaving at the end of this retreat year (June). I have been very sad about this, but it’s been a year of unfortunate changes, and I won’t work there without him. So it’s official; there’s been a purge. The path is still unclear, and I’m on it alone. But Aries season is coming, so I do have hope. I mean, Amazon and Safeway are hiring. If there’s anybody who could enjoy turning the green bean labels to face the same way, it’s me!
I am already thinking of this time between as a blessing. I’m a smidge less angry, less suspicious, and less anticipatory of unacceptable things. I’ve created only a little, but my thoughts about creating have been a lot. I posted my first online video (Instagram @postsinglemotherhood), and I’m about to submit another one to PBS’ American Portrait. I’ve organized my unfinished ramblings into one short story collection - and I do use the term loosely – and have started digging into the one that’s haunted me the most. We’ll see. I don’t want to look back on this time as ungratefully unproductive, even though I know I will.
I’ve heard from folks that what I’m experiencing isn’t unique. Things are changing, yet they’re unclear. Someone reminded me that the Universe always lights the path eventually. I can’t imagine what my path will be, but I hope it will support my 2020 Word of the Year: Freedom. I’m not sure what that looks like either, but I think the Universe does. For now, I can watch the sun set on the mountains from my window and as day becomes dark, I can see the little flickers of city lights for miles around me, as well as the even tinier flickers of headlights as the cars drive down the mountain road after watching the sun set from the top. A few years back, I proclaimed that all I wanted was a little adobe house at the end of a dirt road to live out my days, and that’s where I am. I am so lucky and so grateful for this rest. The desert, despite its professional prickliness, has truly spoken to my heart. Maybe, I’m just learning how to truly listen?