Leyenda, Early Spring 2013
I recently stumbled across an old tablet, and although there wasn't much on it, there was one piece of writing I'd like to save.
The event it describes happened in either February or March of 2013. It was my first time visiting Canyon Guadalupe, and we were there for a "work weekend" - a weekend spent in the campground preparing it for Leyenda.
Since it's unfinished, it ends abruptly. You could see I'd gotten a little lost in the tale I was trying to tell. However, I really enjoy some of the imagery, and I can remember the experience quite clearly from reading this. <3
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I don't know if it was the country or the company, the sunshine or the sobriety, but my state was manic and my spirit was high. After a day of working and playing in a magical Mexican oasis, here we sat smiling, soaking in the healing waters of natural hot springs.
And who were we? A dirty dozen, a few Peter Pan princes, a handful of Lost Boys, Tiger Lily, and Wendy.
At least that's how it seemed.
The journey to Neverland was long and treacherous, through sleet and blowing snow. When we finally descended out of the storm clouds and into the world of windmills, we were greeted by a Mexicali rainbow. It's colours stretched strong from east to west, and I couldn't help but feel this journey was blessed.
But then, as we approached the canyon, the sky darkened and drowned the sun. The temperature began to drop and the winds picked up.
The rain fell in sporadic, awkward buckets. The winds swirled chaotically, accompanied by tension-filled pauses of calm. The palm trees argued within their ranks, and reality shifted.
I may have spent the entire night shaking. First, from anxiety. Then, from a combination of cold and fear.
Even thought I'd only gotten three hours of rest the night prior, I was unable to sleep. With my eyes closed and the storm whirling outside the tent, my mind took me on magical adventures and I felt as though i were in an altered state. The visions were strong, overlapping into the tent with with surprising realism.
I lay shivering and confused, trapped and tortured.
Then, the rain stopped. The winds quieted. The sun's warm golden glow rose above the canyon's hills and everything seemed right, bright, and beautiful.
Wendy, dear Wendy, it wasn't until this adventure that I could truly empathize with you! Plucked from the mundane turmoils of every day life and thrown into a magical wonderland!
But, in the end,Wendy returned back to civilization, years past, and when Peter sees her again, she's grown old.
I had begun to feel like that version of Wendy, my sense of wonder fading, my perspective slowly growing more jaded. But, unlike older Wendy I've been given a gift. Neverland as an adult, unexpected and welcomed, before it had gotten too late.
And now, here I sit, sore ad smiling. My heart is filled with gratitude and my forearms flush with tiny red dots, the itchy aftermath from working with palm fronds from sunrise to suppertime.
Why?
For the flalafels, of course. or, more accurately, for the "palapas," the shade structures located throughout the property.
We spent all of Saturday at the campsite called El Dorado, overlooking the black palm tree forest, cleaning and rebuilding the palapa that had deteriorated from 10 months of high desert canyon weather.
The event it describes happened in either February or March of 2013. It was my first time visiting Canyon Guadalupe, and we were there for a "work weekend" - a weekend spent in the campground preparing it for Leyenda.
Since it's unfinished, it ends abruptly. You could see I'd gotten a little lost in the tale I was trying to tell. However, I really enjoy some of the imagery, and I can remember the experience quite clearly from reading this. <3
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I don't know if it was the country or the company, the sunshine or the sobriety, but my state was manic and my spirit was high. After a day of working and playing in a magical Mexican oasis, here we sat smiling, soaking in the healing waters of natural hot springs.
And who were we? A dirty dozen, a few Peter Pan princes, a handful of Lost Boys, Tiger Lily, and Wendy.
At least that's how it seemed.
The journey to Neverland was long and treacherous, through sleet and blowing snow. When we finally descended out of the storm clouds and into the world of windmills, we were greeted by a Mexicali rainbow. It's colours stretched strong from east to west, and I couldn't help but feel this journey was blessed.
But then, as we approached the canyon, the sky darkened and drowned the sun. The temperature began to drop and the winds picked up.
The rain fell in sporadic, awkward buckets. The winds swirled chaotically, accompanied by tension-filled pauses of calm. The palm trees argued within their ranks, and reality shifted.
I may have spent the entire night shaking. First, from anxiety. Then, from a combination of cold and fear.
Even thought I'd only gotten three hours of rest the night prior, I was unable to sleep. With my eyes closed and the storm whirling outside the tent, my mind took me on magical adventures and I felt as though i were in an altered state. The visions were strong, overlapping into the tent with with surprising realism.
I lay shivering and confused, trapped and tortured.
Then, the rain stopped. The winds quieted. The sun's warm golden glow rose above the canyon's hills and everything seemed right, bright, and beautiful.
Wendy, dear Wendy, it wasn't until this adventure that I could truly empathize with you! Plucked from the mundane turmoils of every day life and thrown into a magical wonderland!
But, in the end,Wendy returned back to civilization, years past, and when Peter sees her again, she's grown old.
I had begun to feel like that version of Wendy, my sense of wonder fading, my perspective slowly growing more jaded. But, unlike older Wendy I've been given a gift. Neverland as an adult, unexpected and welcomed, before it had gotten too late.
And now, here I sit, sore ad smiling. My heart is filled with gratitude and my forearms flush with tiny red dots, the itchy aftermath from working with palm fronds from sunrise to suppertime.
Why?
For the flalafels, of course. or, more accurately, for the "palapas," the shade structures located throughout the property.
We spent all of Saturday at the campsite called El Dorado, overlooking the black palm tree forest, cleaning and rebuilding the palapa that had deteriorated from 10 months of high desert canyon weather.