Camping in the Santa Fe National Forest

A perfect end to a life-changing trip.

 We left Albuquerque early for the long road to the Santa Fe National Forest and took our time along the way. We stopped in another small town to do some slugging around and shopping. By now we were all exhausted and had seen just about every tourist town in Northern New Mexico so we mostly just relaxed and enjoyed some low-key time at coffee and gift shops.

            After a couple hours of beautiful New Mexican desert flying past us in the windows we finally entered the forest and started the long journey up winding roads into the mountains. Tall Pines and a rippling river entertained us the entire way up, and only a stop for far too much firewood gave us a break from the curves.

            Eventually we reached our campsite, the last location before National Forest ended and the Pecos Wilderness Area began. We set up camp and soon got to exploring. A few of us went up one of the hills next to our site to find a good look out and take stock of how far we had come in those three short weeks. I can still remember sitting there thinking “in a couple days I’ll be back home sitting in my kitchen typing away about this moment”, and now, here I am. After a few existential hours we headed back down and joined the rest of the group for dinner and card playing for the rest of the evening.

            In the morning we awoke and decided to go for a long hike up the trail we had found next to our camp. The next day seven of us set off, and were soon trailing far behind Jeff, who apparently decided to sprint up the mountain. We took our sweet time, stopping for pictures and sidetracking on different trails. We lost two people to naps and reading back at camp, but soon found ourselves at an incredible place atop the mountain.

There were enormous boulders lying everywhere at the peak and we climbed to the highest ones to take in the best view. We could see rolling hills of green trees, snow-peaked mountains in the distance, and behind us the seemingly endless Pecos Wilderness.

Being from the suburbs of Chicago I had never experienced a wilderness area before, but it is basically an area with little or no significant impact by human beings in the way of infrastructure like roads or pipelines.  It’s really incredible to know that we still have “wilderness”, at least in name, around these days. As I grew up the focus always seemed to be on technology, what’s new, what’s next, how far can we push the human mind upward and onward. I love the idea that there is a still a place that will challenge you on some of the most basic principles of finding food, water, and shelter. There is so much to be taken for granted in our fast paced society today and sometimes it takes something as simple as being in the “wilderness” to realize just how temporary those comforts are.

I know there is much debate on the idea of true “nature”, but I know for a fact that I experienced a truly incredible natural place with simple wonders waiting everywhere we went. Pecos, The Santa Fe National Forest, and New Mexico in general are all places I plan to some day revisit, but my first impression was so overwhelmingly amazing that I wonder if my return trip(s) could possibly be as fulfilling. The winding roads away from camp at 7am and the long 14 hour drive filled my mind with reminiscing about the countless memorable times I shared with my trip mates. I could not have asked for a better experience in my three weeks in New Mexico. Life changing seems like too small of a phrase to sum up the way I changed during my time there, and I can only imagine what lies in store for my return. New Mexico quickly became home to me and my trip-mates, and I know we’ll all miss it, but it will always be there, in some places changing every day, and in others staying the same as its been for thousands of years. 

Connor Corley.

Lama.

It was early, cold, and we were heading into the mountains North of Taos to visit an intentional living community. I was nervous with anticipation about this unknown commune. Would everyone be sleepy-eyed and spacey and doing drugs? Would there be “free love” posters and used up, burned out hippies strolling around smoking?

            We arrived at a parking lot at the end of a long dirt road and were greeted by Joe, a soft-spoken twenty-something year old man with a clean-shaven face and short hair, and my nerves were put at ease.

            The day started with a 30-minute meditation inside a huge dome shaped building with a circular window overlooking the valley below and the mountains on the horizon. The only sounds we heard were wind chimes singing softly and the quiet footsteps of one of their cats circling us while we sat. I admit, I was uneasy about the whole situation, but Joe calmly relaxed our minds with an explanation of what the Lama Foundation was.

            Founded in the 1967, the Lama Foundation was created to foster sustainability, community, and spirituality, and the cycling of “residents” over the years has carried on their traditions. Their spirituality is not focused in one certain direction, and they regularly practice the traditional ceremonies and dances of local native tribes, Judaism, Hinduism, Christianity, and Buddhism, to name a few.

            Around every turn, there was something more wonderful to see. From their beautiful mess hall, complete with a covered porch overlooking the valley below, to their mud brick residences. Their entire 100+ acre compound is run off of a few solar panels, and they grow much of their food on site in their sprawling garden.

            The music room, and private library on site aroused much excitement amongst the group, and the seemingly endless amount of shrines around the compound were a constant reminder of the diverse spiritual currents running through the residents

            We took a group tour around the entire foundation, and helped ready campsites for the arrival of retreat groups in the summer months, and ended our day with a long hike through the mountains above the site. Along the way we discussed the fire that nearly destroyed the entire foundation in 1996, and witnessed the visible scars to the landscape that were caused by the fires destructive force.

            As our day ended I couldn’t help but feel like I was waking up from a wonderful dream, like the joy and intrigue, love and happiness shared with the residences and fellow group members would not be the same once we left Lama. We parted with kind words, and as we hiked back down the mountain to the gravel roads and highways back to Taos, I vowed to come back to the Lama Foundation, no matter how and when, to share in their community and spirituality, and spread to others the same experiences that had been shared with me.

            Connor Corley.

Ernesto Mayans: What is the environment?

     Conversing with Ernesto, both as a group and individually, was something I will never forget. He is very engaging, bringing everyone into the conversation and slowly drawing out their points of view; even those who are timid and soft-spoken cannot resist taking part. He was ready and able to converse on any subject, from art, to the environment, to philosophy. Moreover, he has friends in every field doing incredible things, and he is always excited to tell you about them.

     Not surprisingly, my favorite time with Ernesto was talking to him about philosophy. He introduced me to a school of thought called Phenomenology, gave me many recommendations on philosophical works that I should read, and provided a very realistic and down-to-earth approach to a subject that is often caught up in abstractions and theoretical discussions.

The best philosophical conversation I had with him was one pertaining to the environment. It began with him posing the question, “What is the environment?," a seemingly simply question that proved very difficult to answer. After making several attempts at giving a definition of the environment, only to have Ernesto politely shoot each one down, I finally said something along the lines of “our definition is always changing”, and instantaneously his eyes lit up. “Yes,” he said, because the environment is always changing, and before we can effectively address the environmental problems we have, we must first realize that the environment is change. To try and define the environment as something constant and absolute is both futile and silly, for such a definition would be missing the core idea of what the environment is, which is a dynamic balance of life and energy that is constantly in flux. Things live and die, energy is used and released, reactions occur, and all the while a delicate balance of interdependence is maintained; this is far from being static or constant. The idea was very mind-altering for me, and from the look in Ernesto’s eyes I had the feeling that had deliberately led me down this path of thought hoping I would come to this realization.

Ernesto was one of a kind, as they say, and I am very thankful for the time that I was able to spend with him.

The Poets Are Coming! (Arthur Sze Edition)

     Before I focus in on my encounter with Arthur, I just want to say that the morning that we spent with Carol and Arthur was a truly wonderful experience. They are two very charming people who are obviously very passionate about their craft, and it was great being able to talk to them about their work.

     Arthur is a self proclaimed “science dropout” who was enrolled at MIT prior to deciding that he wanted to pursue poetry. After being recommended by one of his professors at Berkley to move to Santa Fe, Arthur took on a series of seemingly odd jobs, such as working on a reservation and in a prison; these experiences were crucial influences on his poetry in that they provided him with very raw insights into the cultural tensions that exist in New Mexico. (On a side note, he is also an avid mushroom hunter, and if you bring it up in conversation it never fails to put a smile to his face.)

     As a Chinese-American cultural tension is something that Arthur is very familiar with; he often infuses his Chinese heritage and the tension that it generates into his writing. Arthur’s work also highlights the cultural tensions in New Mexico between the Anglo, Hispanic, and Pueblo cultures. He referred to his work (and, more generally, New Mexico) as “a braiding of cultures”, and the tension between those cultures generates “friction, heat, light, and vitality” that make both his work and New Mexico vibrant.

     One particular part of the conversation we had with Carol and Arthur was very meaningful to me, especially as a person who makes a hobby out of poetry, and that was towards the very end when they described their own writing process. They talked about how, in revising a poem, one is really re-envisioning it and that one must surrender oneself to the poem, for it is all too easy to lose the poem in revising it. They also spoke about the tension between tradition and innovation, which is always present during the creative process, and how they go about balancing tradition with innovation in their own work.

     Overall, the time we spend with Arthur and Carol was awesome.

Taos Pueblo and Earthships

It wasn’t until we were nearing the end of our week in Taos that we finally made our way to the Taos Pueblo. The village lay at the edge of town and consisted of ancient adobe buildings, some over 1,000 years old. We were given a tour through the dusty streets by a young Pueblo woman, who pointed out the notable features of the area, such as the church and the natural spring where the Pueblo people continue to get their drinking water. After the tour, we were free to wander around the premises and explore the ancient homes, which had frequently been converted into shops for artisans to sell their goods. I bought a piece of fresh fry bread from a young woman who chatted with me about growing up in the pueblo as I watched her roll out a ball of dough and drop it in a vat of bubbling oil. As I munched the fry bread drenched in honey and wandered through the adobe structures, I was struck with the familiar mix of guilt and curiosity that I had become accustomed to on this trip. Despite my efforts to be a respectful tourist, I found it hard to shake the feeling that I was allowing myself to be a part of a system which inevitably exploited a native culture. Of course, I wanted to support the artisans and the people living in the Pueblo. I wanted to buy their goods and pay for their tour guides, because I knew that they were, like the rest of us, just trying to make a livelihood. I also appreciated that experiencing and witnessing first-hand what life was like on the Pueblo was an important and eye-opening opportunity to learn about another culture. However, it was hard not to feel like my presence was inherently disrespectful and invasive, as I and the other visitors traipsed through homes snapping photographs. 

The afternoon brought a change of pace. We visited the famous community of earthships near the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge. The homes all resembled something out of a post-apocalyptic fantasy movie, stretching across the desolate New Mexican environment and decorated with tires, glass bottles, and aluminum cans. We toured the visitors center, a beautiful building which resembled a cross between a typical home in a wealthy neighborhood, a greenhouse, and an ornate and earthy fortress. The homes were a fascinating example of merging architecture and sustainability, producing their own energy and recycling their water 4 times. Although we were only able to view most of the earthships from afar, the afternoon successfully peaked our interest in a new method of expressing creativity and simultaneously striving for sustainability. 

-Leslie Reynolds

A Day in the Life of a Lama Resident

        I’ll admit it; I was skeptical at first. I wasn’t exactly sure what a “spiritual community” entailed, and I wasn’t sure if I bought it, whatever it was. My cynicism and weariness regarding self-proclaimed counter-culturalists, anarchists, hippies, and their ilk led me to approach the Lama Foundation with some degree of hesitation and judgement. Based on my interactions with disgruntled youths and unmotivated derelicts, I was anticipating a bevy of unshaven, hemp-laden, self-important bohemians, holding hand and singing Kumbayah, or else eager to expound upon the many ills of modern society, technology, government, etc. As we stood in the early morning light, stung by the bitter wind which whipped angrily about the mountaintop, Joe, our friendly guide, informed us that we would first participate in a short (thirty minute) group meditation. I struggled not to roll my eyes and scoff at the suggestion. I had never attempted to meditate, and had never exactly seen the appeal. Nevertheless, as we sat in the great octagonal room, perched upon round cushions, I tried to relax and clear my mind. It seemed an impossible task as my brain refused to cease its perpetual rumination, and it continued to scour the contours of my memory in search of amusing tidbits to keep me occupied in the utter silence. Luckily for me and my ever-active brain, kindly Joe cut our meditation short to allow us to introduce ourselves and proceed on to breakfast. 

        Upon reaching the dining area, we were greeted by a motley group of hippies from all walks of life: overzealous young people with ample facial hair, wizened old women with kind features, and everything in between. This greeting might have solidified my predetermined antagonism had I not been surprised by the warmth with which we were inducted into the group. Before eating, we all held hands while one member of the community led us in a song (not Kumbayah perhaps, but close). Then we were invited to eat the ample breakfast provided for us. During the meal, the community members approached us with curiosity and kindness, expressing their pleasure at having us as guests. I had anticipated a clan of bitter, opinionated hemp heads who would either be too blazed to engage me in conversation, or else would eye me with scorn as if they could tell that I ate meat, occasionally enjoyed TV, and sometimes shaved my legs.  However, the after being met with such an amicable and welcoming reception, I was suddenly ashamed of my judgmental outlook. It appeared I had been wrong about who exactly was the bitter one.

After breakfast, we returned to the octagonal room, this time with all of the Lama residents. Sebastian, a bearded redhead with glasses and a charming smile, invited us to listen to a song, in order to appreciate the intricacy of the music, the feelings which it aroused, and the process of listening in general. We sat in silence for a few minutes as he played a lively yet somehow heartrending melody sung in a language I didn’t understand. When it was over, we formed small groups to discuss our experiences while listening. In my group, a tall, boney boy with an eyebrow ring explained an internal checklist he assess every time he hears a new piece of music. Another man attempted to voice the powerful emotions which the piece evoked in him. I shared a memory, long dormant, which the music and awoken in me. 

We then turned our attention back to the whole group for the daily practice of “heart tuning.” Everyone went around in a circle and said a few words about how they were feeling in whichever way they felt appropriate. People shared a few words, some serene and pleasant, others marked by pain and sadness. Others recited verses of poetry or sang short songs to convey their state of being. When it was my turn to speak, I was surprised by how easily and comfortably I was able to share with the group. Speaking in front of people, particularly candidly and with little preparation, often leaves me gripped with anxiety and dread. However, all I felt was the welcoming and accepting atmosphere created by the residents. 

After the group disbanded to take on their various responsibilities for the day (cooking lunch, cleaning the alters scattered around the grounds, washing the meditation pillows, etc.) Joe led us to the campgrounds, where visitors slept during summer retreats. As our contribution to the community, we helped clear off the tent sites and cover them with hay to make them more comfortable. After only a few hours of work, the sun had come out, we had stripped off our coats and scarves and were sweating in our t-shirts. We were more than ready when we heard the bells chiming to signal lunch time. The residents had cooked an authentic Thai lunch, which turned out to be one of my favorite meals of the entire trip. While we ate, we mingled with the others and heard the stories of how they arrived at Lama. Again, I was impressed with their openness and willingness to share their stories, as well as hear our own. 

When it was time to go, many of us had fallen so in love with the community that we were ready to move in. Despite my initial hesitation, even I was sad to go, although I certainly would have missed indoor plumbing had we stayed much longer. Although I may not ever really grasp the point of meditation, Lama certainly helped me shed some of my unfounded and unwarranted antagonism.  


-Leslie Reynolds

"One day at a time"

I woke up on the morning of May 20 in Santa Fe and strained to remember what was on the agenda for the new day. The memory of Jeff chanting "THE POETS ARE COMING THE POETS ARE COMING!" the previous night reminded me that the poets--Carol Moldaw and Arthur Sze-- were in fact coming to speak with us, and also reminded me that I had put off the reading of their work until that morning. After a quick breakfast I decided to face my shameful procrastination and read the selected poems that were assigned to us. I started with Carol's poem entitled Summer Sublet which abstractly describes some of her memories and struggles from her early years in Santa Fe. I immediately fell in love with Carol's poetry. After reading the remaining selections, including the impressive Lightning Field, I identified the beauty in Carol's work as her attention to both subjective and objective elements and her ability to weave them together so skillfully. I began to get really excited when I remembered that the talented artist that I had just discovered was going to be arriving at our Santa Fe house in just a few minutes. When the poets arrived, she was everything that I had imagined. Carol and her husband Arthur read a few poems aloud to us and engaged us in conversation. Many of us had questions for the couple and we discussed things such as the balance of community and individuality in Santa Fe, the influx of the art community since the 1970s, the importance of physical environment to identity, and the sensuality of words, along with various other topics. Our time with the poets seemed to fly by but we had some great conversations. Although my procrastination was unintentional, I feel lucky to have gotten to fall in love with a poet's work and meet that same poet all in about an hour. I was able to find a collection of Carol's newer poems called So Late, So Soon at Collected Works, a great local bookstore near the plaza. Meeting with Carol and Arthur was very interesting and rewarding and I feel privileged for having the opportunity.

Monica Chatterton