Tales of the talking stick

Lately I've been very aware of time - how it passes, how I use (or don't use) it, how others perceive it, how it's written on my body and my face, how it manifests in my children's growth. So it's no surprise that my birthday felt ... different this year. Not a milestone birthday, I'm 38. But definitely a different one given my orientation toward time at the present moment. In thinking about what to do to mark the day, I considered lots of options and finally decided to do something I was sure others would find strange. Well maybe not for me, but certainly not something most people would choose to do on such a day: I got up early, packed some snacks, and drove to the middle of California along the Mexican border to a sleepy town called Boulevard and picked wild sage with a wild woman on her wild sage farm. The two-hour drive from San Diego was absolutely breathtaking, though punctuated more frequently than I anticipated by border patrol. I arrived and it was hot - a blistering summer day in the southeast desert. I drove down the winding path to the farm and wondered if I was in the right place. And then I saw it - the field of sage growing as tall as I stand, blowing in the passing breeze. I was greeted at the main house by about 8 dogs of all sizes and ages (some raced to greet me, others barely moved or looked up). And then the owners emerged and welcomed me.

The rest of the day passed so quickly, and there is so much to tell I could write a novel about the experience. I love that the couple who farm this land found the sage at the corner of their 22-acre property by accident on a hike about a year after they moved in and then used seeds from the mother plant to grow the others. They let me buy as much sage as I could fit in the back of my SUV, which is a lot. They know I make sage bundles and were happy to become my new wholesale supplier. I was amazed at the array of products they make (sage balms, tincture, essential oil, hydrosol) and the standards they maintain despite the incredible growth of their company. Most of all, I was inspired.

But perhaps the highlight of the day was a rare glimpse I got into the life of the owner as artist; she doesn't just run this farm, she creates all kinds of other things in other media using raw and organic materials. My favorite item she has created was also the oldest - it's the talking stick pictured at the opening of this entry. It is used by her family in all sorts of significant ways and is more than 30 years old. It gets passed around at Thanksgiving for people to speak their gratitude around the dining table; it gets used in ceremony to signal the opening of sacred space; and her grandkids carry it around the property when they visit, lending it additional wear but also additional beauty. Beads and feathers and other adornments are added each year. And the result is this beautiful physical cataloguing of what matters most in her life - art. And of course, love.

I am so glad I chose to drive out to this beautiful space on my birthday this year. Not sure how I'll top the experience next year. Not sure I need to. Or even could.