How I Roll

Walker Pass Trailhead

Walker Pass Trail Head Campground

On the Kern River, LAKE ISABELLA, CA—It was time to go. I needed some supplies and some water and a pit toilet to dump my port-a-potty. I also needed to find a laundromat (or buy some more underwear). Such is the life of a nomad.

But mostly I was just feeling the need to move on.

Over the last few days I’ve been oscillating between heading south and around the Sierras (my original plan) or continuing northward along the eastern side of the mountains.

My mind said, “North. You’ve got a big project you’re working on and plenty of space and free camping practically anywhere north of here.” Solitude is very conducive to productivity.

Still, my mind—as rational as he is—isn’t nearly as important to me as he used to be. I don’t hold him in such high regard anymore. Actually, he’s kind of a pain in my butt, but what can you do?

So I hopped into the driver’s seat—still not knowing where to go—and pulled out my book of maps of California. I cleared my mind, let go, expanded into the Vastness and just gazed at all the little lines and various routes.

“South and around,” She said loud and clear. “South and around.”

An hour later, I found myself in Ridgecrest, CA. I picked up some supplies, eyeballed some possible night camps, and found a laundromat that, for a Sunday afternoon, was surprisingly empty.

Reader Margaret had mentioned a trailhead campground about 20 miles out of town and directly on my route around the southern tip of the Sierras, but still I didn’t know if I should stay in town for the night or try to make it there before sunset…

My laundry was done and put away. My refrigerator was full. I had water and food and an empty toilet and everything I needed to go wherever I wanted. My home, as always, was right here with me. Do I stay, or do I drive on…?

So I waited for a whisper.

And I waited some more.

And I got nothing.

What difference does it make what I do? How do you make personal decisions when there is no personal you? Life lives through this thing, but without the “me, me, me” motivator which everyone else has, making decisions for this Wayne-thing leaves me feeling constantly ambivalent. It often leaves me feeling directionless and adrift.

But contrary to what you might think, I don’t mind feeling adrift. Adrift—when you surrender to it—feels wonderful, feels guided, feels spontaneous.

But adrift isn’t always practical.

So I did what I often do when I don’t know what to do (which is practically everyday): I flipped the silver dollar my mother had given me before I left Florida the last time.

When I don’t hear Her whispers, flipping a coin is how I let TaoGodHer decide my fate. It’s got a much more tactile sense to it.

Heads I drive to the trail head. Tails and I crash for the night at a strip mall nearby.

But the coin flip is sacred. Don’t ever flip a coin if you aren’t willing to abide by Her decision. Seriously. Don’t.

It’s getting kind of cold now and my heater’s low on propane (yeah, I forgot to buy propane) and I’ve got no cell signal up here so I won’t be staying more than the night, but…

But it’s also very beautiful, and quiet, and serene up here. It’s a great camp, Margaret. Thanks.

And thank you my Beloved. You’ve never done me wrong.

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2 thoughts on “How I Roll

  1. I’d say if you want warm dry climate for the next two months you should stay in the desert. Anza Borrego is nice, and lots of free camping… but it sounds like you have other plans…

  2. Nice idea. I did a coin toss the other day before reading this but was noncommittal about it and kept flipping it until I was sufficiently Confused. Just did it again inspired by what you said and will abide by it. Feels nice to put faith in the coin! 😀

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