Hello dear ones,

While compiling the Root Living journals from that first summer and fall in the Desert, I uncovered three pieces of writing that I’d like to share with you today.

They felt more like standalone pieces than journal entries.

I’ve included our symbol [o o o] between them, as an invitation to pause for a breath (or three!) and reconnect with your body.

Rooting for you,
Rebecca

P.S. - If you're newly joining, we’ll resume our journey with part 10 next Sunday. Here is part 1 to begin

Popping the Clutch

In the fall of 2019, in the middle of a deep grief wave, I bought my first vehicle at the age of 30. It happened to be manual, and I didn't know how to drive stick.

Through trial and error, some tips from my aunt, many courageous tiny trips across our town, and weeks later a cross-country drive out west, I learned.

I enjoyed it——the heightened concentration, having control over fuel efficiency, saving my brakes. Yet the one thing that sometimes felt a hindrance——other than stops on steep hills——was my inability to turn quickly from a stop.

I'd have to start in first gear as a snail, go for a second, push in the clutch, shift up to second, push the gas to rev up, such that I could shift into third, and then we were on our way.

Making a left turn across three lanes of oncoming traffic felt harder. It took more time. I needed a bigger gap in traffic because I couldn't accelerate as quickly.

And don't get me started on making a left onto a 65 mph road from a stop. I needed a huge amount of space to get up to those speeds.

Since moving to the Desert, I now have a commute to work. There's a turn where I have to make a left across three lanes of oncoming traffic.

And there's a street to get home, where I have to make a left onto a 50 mph road.

These instances which had been only once and a while are now weekly, if not daily.

My coworker, Scout, drives stick and knows a lot about cars. A few weeks into our season together, a situation arose that led me to express my frustration:

“I wish I could accelerate faster!” I exclaimed.

“You mean from a stop?” he inquired

“Yeah.”

“Sticks can accelerate faster than automatics,” he said plainly.

Wait – what??

He must have misspoken. This was the complete opposite of the understanding I'd had the past 1.5 years. 

Scout sees the confusion on my face.

“Yeah, manuals can accelerate from a stop faster than automatics,” he added, “you just gotta pop the clutch. You should play around, try it.”

So today, on my drive into town, I used all the red lights as practice. Me, who's in no hurry to get anywhere, would slam on the gas and shift as quickly as I could: first, second, third.

At one red light, I was in front, with another car in the lane to my left.

As soon as the light turned green, boom, gas is down, I pop down into second, and rev up again…

… and I beat the automatic!!

I began laughing to myself in joy and hilarity.

The rest of that morning, I was blessed with over four 1st-in-line red lights to practice on. And I got from 0 to 40 faster than I ever had before.

When I believed sticks simply were slower because of all the gears I had to shift through, it was true. My turns were slow.

But upon being told I could accelerate faster, I believed it, and it became true!

[ o o o ]

65mph Spirituality

There's a bar across the top of Ricky's work truck. On the drive to Crater each day, when we hit the 65 mph zone, it makes a loud noise that is surprisingly unpleasant, even with the windows closed, enclosed in the truck cab. 

One day when that happened, he said he was going to look up a solution.

Then we drive 35 mph roads the rest of the day and I don't think about it until the drive home, when we hear it again.

Another day he said maybe there are holes on the bar, and he could try filling them. Another day he thought about changing the shape of the bar to be more aerodynamic.

But then time goes by when we can't hear it, we're focused on a work project, and we forget.

When I'm on a live call with Starhawk in ceremony, it's easy to feel the strength of connection with the Great Spirit. Same while listening to a Grit & Grace podcast episode or while reading A Course in Miracles.

Of course I will feel in touch with my soul when I'm in ceremony or immersed in a spiritual text.

Of course we will think to change the bar when we can hear the bar loudly and clearly.

But change only happens if we remember the bar when we're not driving that stretch of highway at 65 mph. When we could implement some of those ideas and try to change the bar. 

We’d need to write it down. Put up a reminder. Schedule time for it.

Likewise, the magic and transformation happens in our lives when we connect with the Great Spirit outside of the obvious 65 mph zones (the dedicated practice).

At work, when someone's comment attacks my ego.

When I first wake up in the morning.

When I'm not sure how to proceed with a friendship that no longer feels right and nurturing.

When I’m walking through the grocery store parking lot.

When I struggle to feel seen and belonging.

This is why we have a daily practice: so that we may more easily turn towards the Great Spirit in moments of irritation, pain, frustration, and challenge. Or in mundane moments, minds thinking about the future or the past.

We remember our body, our sacred vessel.

We breathe in deeply through these miraculous lungs, here and now.

We can truly feel into the four points of each foot, adjusting our balance between them: big toe to inner heel, pinky toe to outer heel. Sensing the space of the arch.

A smile comes to our face as we remember there is nothing to figure out, solve, fix, or make happen.

We are divinely guided by a powerful force that goes by many names: Great Spirit, Creator, God, Allah, the Animate Everything.

And if we remember, relax, and call in that support. Turn it over. Ask for help.

Listen deeply for nudges and whispers. Listen to the body.

Then, we can experience tiny changes in our life——some call these miracles——which have real impact. Driving through the 65mph zone without that obnoxiously loud sound. Having the courage to end a friendship whose season has ended.

Nature wastes nothing.

No matter how it appears on the outside, the Great Spirit is weaving miracles. Privy to a much wider view, the long journeys of our souls. Nurturing soils so that new life will sprout in divine Right Timing.

Calling us back to remember, when we’re outside of the 65mph zones.

[ o o o ]

Being Seen

One summer day in 2019, grief present as any, I was biking to the new library in town to return some books. The grand opening was in a week. There were still construction crews working to finish, cleaning up the parking lot. 

I was biking by at the end of the work day, and saw several people walking home to their cars, lunch boxes and thermoses in hand. Among the many men, I saw one woman leaving the job site. A woman! 

One of my dreams was to get into the trades – learn to build, fix, anything! Carpentry, mechanics, plumbing, electric. That summer I'd read a memoir (Hammer Head) about a woman who'd become a carpenter's assistant without any prior experience.

I'm teachable! Teach me!

I was so curious about this woman: How long had she been in the field? How did she get started? What skills did she have? How had she learned them? What company did she even work for?

But my energy was so limited those days, and everything took more energy than before. I didn't have the courage to interrupt her day and ask. So I merely looked on and wondered from afar.

Fast forward a year and a half. I worked another two seasons of trail crew, during which I gained new skills: chainsawing, cross cutting, driving canycoms and toro dingos and a skidsteer. Over the winter, I volunteered and got to build a cabin, install windows, paint a building, little by little I'm gaining skills as opportunities present themselves. Currently, I'm working in maintenance at a national park. I'm learning so much, because most is new.

Here's the thing: I remember that woman. I don't know her name or anything about her. But in a way, she illuminated what was possible. She was a guiding light on my journey, nudging me ever so closer to my desired skill set.

Yet she doesn't know that she inspired me. She doesn't know I'm writing about her at this very moment, or how the sight of her that day two years ago has stuck with me all this time.

Now, I'm a woman with long hair and a bright smile, wearing a reflective vest and hard hat, doing roadwork with my otherwise all-male crew. Perhaps I have unknowingly inspired someone – just for being me and doing what feels right to my true self.

And I'm certain you, yes you, have been seen and admired at some point by eyes you never knew were watching.

That, my friends, is the delightful miracle of this sacred interconnected Web of Life.

[ o o o ]