Been there, done that syndrome
When wisdom circles the drain, which direction does it flow?
I’ve been on a short road trip for three days and have learned three lessons. Well, actually I’ve learned the same lesson three times.
Here’s a seemingly unrelated question. When you pull the plug from a filled basin of water, which way does the water circle? Non-scientist that I am, I would answer: clockwise and seem to remember that if I were in the Southern Hemisphere, it would circle counter-clockwise.
Artificial as he is, CHAD (ChatGPT for short) says it has more to do with the shape of the basin and the way the water entered the basin initially than which hemisphere we’re in.
And, what, pray tell, does that have to do with my road trip lessons? Well, I’m beginning to think I’ve lived too long and have stopped seeing through my eyes. There seems to be some big basin of prior experiences circling this way and that and sending me random thoughts disguised as wisdom gathered through my primary senses. I’m not sure I’m seeing clearly.
"When it works for us, been there, done that, is deeply comforting. It gives us confidence. It gives us a sense of agency. And, it gives us certainty. But sometimes been there, done that gets in the way." -- Judy Sims
First lesson: I launched this road trip filled with enthusiasm for seeing the Amargosa Opera House and learning more about Marta Becket and her 50 years of dancing on a stage in the middle of nowhere, with or without audience.
I arrived late afternoon in Death Valley Junction and all my pre-formed desert blues lined up in formation … empty, desolate, barren, desiccated, abandoned. It’s been a wet year, Hurricane Hilary (August, 2023) flooded the hotel, and continued rains left muddy puddles and deep ruts everywhere. The 100-year old hotel building was crumbling around the edges. Everything seemed far past its prime … the photos on the walls, the carpet, the furniture, even the legendary murals were pock marked with age. Plus, I was first person to check in … possibly the only one?
Since it was possible to repeat the tour, I knew I’d have plenty of opportunities to take pictures and hear all the details. Instead, my first reaction was to bolt. I already knew the story, had written about it, watched the video, researched everything available online and talked with the CEO of the non-profit board. I had literally been there, done that.
Tired from the drive, I even considered skipping the tour and taking a nap so I could leave early in the morning. However, dutifully, I showed up and rather grumpily went on the tour. It wasn’t the world’s best tour but new details started to emerge. And one of the guests on the tour was a musician who had played with Marta many years ago. He and his wife asked interesting questions and talked about how often they had come back and what the place meant to them. I started taking more photos.
One of the details the tour guide added to my understanding was that Marta and her husband had divorced because he wanted a family and she said “This (meaning the opera house) is my family.” Deliberately, she chose her passion, her destiny, amazing for a woman of her generation.
After the tour, I went for a walk on one of those soft pink, desert evenings when everything looks beautiful, even though I was in the most desolate of places, literally the hotel and the abandoned garage where Marta and her husband stopped to get a flat tire fixed and Marta went walkabout and discovered her life passion. The biggest landmark of the area is Funeral Peak, perfectly situated to be bathed in sunset glow.
That night, I started processing photos, amazed at the beauty my iPhone managed to capture in the dark, abandoned auditorium. The next morning, rather than head off for the drive through Death Valley hoping to find wildflowers, I stayed and went through the tour again and took more photos. Suddenly, I wasn’t quite as sure that I had been there, done that yet.
Another been there, done that
Second lesson: I’ve vacationed and lived on the eastern side of the Sierra sporadically over the past several decades. It is one of my favorite places and, of course, I’ve been to Death Valley. I was disappointed to learn that Hurricane Hilary had disrupted the germinating system for poppies so this was not a good year for them. And as I drove through Death Valley, I saw disappointingly few wild flowers. I was ready to zoom on through to my next hotel when I saw Zabriskie Point … just another overlook, I thought … and too many cars. However, I stopped, because I should, and proceeded to walk up the paved path to the top, expecting little. After all. I had seen a lot of overlooks. I had been there, done that.
I still can’t describe the experience. It was somewhat like seeing the earth naked, vulnerable, sacred. This 30-second video is a poor substitute for being there. (Sound is better off … too much wind and voices.)
Third lesson: As I said, I’ve spent time in the Eastern Sierra and traveled 395 too many times to count. Before yesterday, I would have said that you could drop me anywhere in that territory and I would orient myself … especially if there happened to be snow on the Sierra. After leaving Zabriskie Point, I was in lesser traveled territory but felt comfortable … except phone service had disappeared and, with it, my GPS. No problem, I could see the snow in the distance, my always faithful guide.
After traveling for an hour or so, I suddenly became disoriented. The snow and the broad valley was on the EAST side of me. That couldn’t be. The Sierra had to be on my WEST side. I went from being confident that I would arrive at my destination in an hour or so to wondering where I was and if I had enough gas to get anywhere. Then the road turned into an unmarked, little traveled back road. Still a good road, but every time I saw a car, I wanted to stop it and ask it where I was. Even worse, I was climbing, twisting and turning. Where the hell was I?
Obviously, I survived. And, it turns out that all those years I was traveling 395, I was only paying attention to the Sierra, never much glancing at or thinking about the plain, brown Panamints, which, in this high-rain year, were covered with snow.
Once again, thinking I had been there, done that blinded me to seeing where I was and appreciating the new experience. Perhaps this is a common happenstance as we get older. All those experiences we have had start to feel like we have indeed been there, done that, rather than staying open, remembering that every moment is a NEW MOMENT.
And what does this mean for the possible trip to Mexico?
(Finally, she gets to the promised point)
I promised that I would report back on how this trip impacted my decision process and it’s almost like Fate said, “What can I do to open her eyes?”
I am going to Mexico …
I don’t know exactly where or for how long … but I am going to try to go with all my senses open in order to see what comes my way instead of thinking I already know what I will find while I’m there.
Part of what had me flipping and flopping could be that I thought I had to have a “project” to justify the trip, somehow I had to earn the right to be curious and follow my fascinations. Now I just want to be tuned in to whatever comes my way.
I feel a little like the Grinch watching little Cindy Lou Who and all the Whoville folks singing around the Christmas tree celebrating the true spirit of Christmas. This tiny, little road trip has reminded me of the wonder of this world we live in and this planet we live on. I want to experience more of it.
The first lines of this made me think of a sort of spiritual teacher I had in my late teens (she was teaching me massage therapy but she had all kinds of nuggets of wisdom) who said, "the universe wants to teach you things gently, but if you ignore the gentle lessons, it will keep bringing out harder lessons until finally it hits you with the universal 2x4 and you can't ignore it"
Joyce, I’m lying here on my lounge chair in la peña with a clean dog lying between my legs while listening to the neighbor next door prepare fresh mangoes that he almost fell off his ladder to get for his kids. There’s rain somewhere around here; just not here but the 95 degree heat has moderated a great deal that’s why I’m taking advantage of the breeze now. Since this is my first year in Panamá, I’m not really sure quite how our seasons(all 2 of them)turn. I believe we’ll be going from Hell hot to just very hot with downpours; otherwise known as the rainy season.
I’ve had the opportunity to observe what flora and fauna are in my rather large back yard. Right now, the flora is exceedingly dry. The green stuff on the ground which I can only assume is grass, is gone. There is nothing but weeds which I try to keep pulled as best I can but with the winds we get here, I know it’s a losing battle. As for the fauna, I have feral(or neighbors’)cats. There is an abundance of large blackbirds that loves the large trees that would offer better shade had they been planted on the west side of the yard. I’ve seen doves, a kind of blue winged bird and another, smaller black bird with all red feathering down his front from beak to tail(black over red)if he were a car. I have hummingbirds here somewhere. One got lost in my living room temporarily just after I arrived and I saw one yesterday. Maybe they have a season here just as they do back home. It’s possible the extreme heat of the “summer” isn’t so much fun to deal with. A few weeks back, I decided that what birds I do have need water so I bought a couple different sized plastic basins and rigged up a large one for the big birds and a smaller one for the small birds. I’ve noticed that I’ve been getting “gifts” in the large tub. Usually it’s bottle caps; they’re shiny but today it was a small, round pebble. I’m keeping a collection. Everything is stressed so when I see even a small insect in need of water, they get it. My yard is full of spider holes. My son told me they belong to the tarantulas that are very close neighbors. You can be sure I keep water on the ground so they won’t venture into the house looking for it in the dog’s water bowl.
You write about seeing with new eyes, it’s a wonderful world when you let yourself do just that. I look forward to your further adventures wherever they may take you.