My Tribe

In many ways, this trip transports me through time and space when travel had more to do with survival than luxury and luck. Modern day survival for a white middle class mother from the States is another thing altogether. It has more to do with survival of one’s spirit, family, relationship, dreams, and senses, than food. It’s a soul-survival fueled by the sun and driven by an instinct that yearns to see the stars from a new angle. Of course, food will always be the medium that brings everyone together in the end!

I am teetering at the crossroads of a desolate desert landscape as it merges into the vastness of the Pacific; a place that echoes my insides and reminds me who I am with a thousand metaphors. I’ve been here for two months, slowly arriving as a push-pull of layers let go of their stronghold. I witness old habits dissolving while new ones emerge attempting to fill vacant spaces.

Across the arroyo is another mama like me. Her two little ones are crawling around in the sand, discovering bugs like mine. She found herself here too. Away from the comforts of home, from the discomforts of winter, to this strange land that calls us. As I begin to look around, they are everywhere. My tribe. To arrive at this particular spot on planet Earth takes intention, forethought, endurance, patience, strength, creativity. It takes other people like me!

Later, that same mama might stop by with her brood. The kids will form a band of gypsies searching for iguanas, or practice hitting the whiffle-ball hung from the palapa for young Jedi knights-in-training. Sunset will come, miraculous ice cold beers will be mined from the cooler, spontaneous dinner will somehow emerge, happy bellies will giggle.


At home another tribe awaits our return. With gratitude we cherish all.