Saturday, January 22, 2011

Taste of Honey


It was late morning before he made it over to the Inn where I was staying, an old horse stable converted into two rooms with private bathrooms and beautiful views of apple orchards and Volcan Mountian Wildlife Preserve. The air was already warm enough to roll the windows down as we wound around the curving mountain roads. My heart leaps about in my chest at the vast landscape, at the freedom of the day and at the sight of the man next to me in who's company I feel so at ease, like lying naked in the sun, muscles melting into the ground. An hour later, armed with a somewhat vague map and advice from two lovely volunteers at the visitors center, we park the truck and start out on Hellhole Canyon trail in search of a seasonal waterfall that we've been told is still running. Before reaching the mountains it's about a mile across the straight, flat wash punctuated by cactuses and shrubs like the tall, red blooming ocotillo, brittle bush, agave and the cute barrel cactus which protrude red and deceptively fluffy looking. We are told most people stop too soon when they come to a tiny fall, we must continue on over the boulders and above all stay to the right- even when the trail becomes less clear. All around are flowers blooming, on cactuses and white sage, there are even some single stemmed frail blossoms poking out of the dry ground, a small delicate burst of purple against all odds. The heat is intense but it's arid, so bearable. Our footsteps startle tiny lizards, yellow warblers and hummingbirds. I've never seen so many hummingbirds in one day but their number doesn't diminish my excitement of seeing their small bodies darting around at impossible speeds and hearing the buzz of their tiny wings.
A sense of peace has settled in my chest and my thoughts for the moment are only here in the Anza Borrego Desert. We are careful to take lots of water breaks as the heat can deplete you faster than you realize and we've got a round trip hike of nearly six miles ahead of us. As we approach the ravine we begin our ascent and the scenery gives way to giant boulders and mountains rise on either side silent and hot. I wonder out loud how many pairs of eyes might be watching us from above. We don't see any big horn sheep that are known to traverse the peaks but there's so man crevasses and rocks you'd have to sit still and study one spot to pick out any movement. As the rocks got bigger and the path more narrow and trickier to traverse we keep up the same fast pace with eyes and muscles working together in perfect ease and unison. Suddenly we come upon a rag tag group of palm trees and he notes we must be nearing water. Soon after we hear the first trickles of a small stream,there are more palms and two random deciduous trees with yellowish brown brittle leaves clinging long past their season for falling. This is the only thing I see that day to remind me it is mid-January.
We snake back and forth across the stream, sometimes taking the trail less travelled and laugh that despite the advice given we have mainly stayed to the Left. We come to the smaller water fall and press on for about a mile until we hear the promising sound of water crashing onto rock. There it was, tucked modestly behind dead vines and trees between fern covered rocks, surrounded by desert. I pulled off my socks and shoes and stood close to the cold cascading water, turning my hands and face to the gentle drips falling from a mammoth boulder overhead.
We stand in our own thoughts, enjoying nature's reward then snack on cliff bars and fruit before starting back. We quickly make our way down through the boulders and slow our pace once we again enter the flat terrain of the wash. The sun is no longer directly overhead and we are comfortably warm, happily tired and satisfied.

Back in the truck I smell the heat of his body and my head reels, my own body responds and I have to turn my head to the cool air from the window to collect myself. He reaches for my hand and expertly navigates around the hairpin turns with one arm. It's my last night in California and the floodgates in my heart have creaked open, the touch of his hand as he has traced my face and my body, has set a tremble in my very foundation.

The night before we had walked in the apple orchard behind my room, the moon was not even half full but so bright that the world was perfectly illuminated. Warm winds were gusting through and the frogs were in full chorus. So easily we talk and just as easily we sit in appreciative or thoughtful silence together. We walked down the road into a canyon surrounded by the protected wildlife preserve, we lay in the middle of the quiet road and look at the stars and talk. Later in my room we move ever closer on my bed until our lips finally meet and our bodies are free to communicate. I have been waiting for this, to have passionate energy flowing through my body and I fully surrender myself to it. He is caring and restrained and we do not complicate things by making love but enjoy each other for many happy minutes before he left for his own bed.

I knew when I boarded the plane to California I was taking a risk. That I might return home more confused, that I might suffer from the taste of honey, but how could I not go when such bliss might lie in wait? Our last night together he gently let me know that he is fully committed to the band for another two years and it's just not our time right now. He doesn't want to be a distraction while I figure my own stuff out and he's had so much heartbreak as a result of his lifestyle, he won't let our beautiful friendship be ruined by a failed romance. He can redirect the energy from his heart into protecting our friendship. And I hear him, I even admire him for his discipline but at the same time I can't understand a word he is saying. I know that even though I am not ready for a committed relationship and if he asked that of me I would feel smothered, I still want to hear him say he needs to see me, that he can't resist, that he's crazy about me. That is my language, not this Reasonable crap.

I'll not lie, it hurts, it's uncomfortable and it's damn hard to come down when my reality is so difficult right now. But this is important for me to experience and I'm grateful to him for tempering my fool hardy habit of diving after my heart. It's unrealistic- as much as it feels like someone has invaded my body when I say that. But then ultimately don't we make our own reality? See now I'm back to my old self.

He sent me a book entitled "The Alchemist" and one of it's running philosophies is that when you want something all of the Universe conspires to help you get it. I want to feel like I have come home to myself and then I want happiness in love. What ever that looks like and whomever it is with, I want happiness. I'm asking for it.
Every day I wake up and think 'deep breaths', I will be carried from this uncomfortable place by life's slow moving current, I just have to keep my head above water.


I woke from dreams of the desert
and the hot smell of your skin
the firm press of your lips on mine
the sun, the moon and the warm winter wind

I keep my eyes closed to the light of the day
snuggle down deep in the nest of my bed
and wonder perhaps if I’m on your mind
where across many miles you lay your head

Oh don’t forget while
you’re rambling ‘round
us searching the heavens
our backs to the ground

how the world was
all lit in slivery light
and the frogs sang their
harmony into the night

Though our worlds are mountains apart
our words weave a landscape between us
where we might meet and sit side by side
the rules of space and time bend to join us

I wonder what it is you will do dear friend
when the covetous road sets you free
will your heart have settled with another
or will you cross over the distance to me