Humid Heartland

Our arrival at Lake Quivira, Kansas coincided with a rose vermillion sunset over the rippling waters of the lake, visible through the lush, leafy, summer trees. July 4th was the first morning we were able to sleep in, which was such a gift after spending 1,846 miles on the road. Feeling highly privileged, we stepped out of the air conditioned house and drove a little black golf cart into a cloud of steamy heat, swelling with the buzzing of cicadas. We drove down to the lakeshore and dove straight into the water, our bodies probably steaming like a hot cooking pan run under a cool stream from the kitchen faucet. I was soaking in utter contentment.

Photo by Becca Tarnas

Earlier in the day we had been given a driving tour of Kansas City, passing along hot, empty streets between towering brick buildings. The city reminded me somewhat of Newcastle, England, with the red buildings and arching bridges. The gold-leaf roof of a church shone out from the city center, and the shimmering metallic arches of the performing arts center echoed the design of the Sydney Opera House in Australia. While hearing stories of sunken steamboats found buried in fields, and limestone caves miles deep used for storing frozen produce, we drove past the famous Plaza shopping center, and saw the Hallmark headquarters where my aunt had held a twenty-one year career as an artist and letterer.

Our Independence Day dinner was classic American fare: corn on the cob, cole slaw, fried chicken––which, yes I will admit was a first for me––and my personal favorite of home-grown basil, local cherry tomatoes, skewered with a toothpick to mozzarella bathing in an olive oil and balsamic sauce. The discussion over dinner, primarily with a self-declared “hardcore” conservative, was about as lively as one could get while remaining friendly. Matt thrives on such discussion, and the table was like a verbal match of ping pong with multiple players participating at once. The starting topic was Obama’s healthcare program which was just upheld in the Supreme Court, that led each of us to parse out the details of what was good and what needed to be changed, and that the Republican solution to just repeal it was not enough: another alternative needs to be offered for that to be realistic.

Photo by Becca Tarnas

The conversation ranged over many of the most controversial bi-partisan topics, from education and taxes, to evolution. Matt and I had to make it clear we are not what would be considered “mainstream liberals,” and both sides of the conversation learned not to assume the other was a caricature embodying the full ideals of the mainstream left or right parties. When the discussion turned toward evolution we began to narrow in further and further, starting with Matt speaking of how creationism cannot be taught as a scientific alternative to evolution, because they are coming from entirely different fields. However, as we gave examples of evolution we discovered our conservative conversationalist did in fact believe in both adaptation and genetic mutation, but not evolution, which he had separated out. His argument was similar with global warming: he said he believed in climate change but not global warming. Ultimately though, as we were feeling inclined to wrap up the discussion out of consideration for our hosts, we came to a similar agreement on evolution, as recognizing the physical evidence for evolution while also recognizing the Divine influence present in the universe’s unfolding as well.

By this time dusk was falling and we turned our attention to other things, namely making our way down to the lake to embark upon the pontoon boat to view the fireworks, the closest display of them I have ever seen. As the last smoke faded from the sparkling, colorful flames, we turned around to see the full moon rising and reflecting its golden orb into the black waters of the lake.

Photo by Becca Tarnas

Early this morning, the fifth day of the trip but the fourth of driving, we set out from the house at 8:15 am and began our day’s travels through five states: Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio. The landscape remained a rich green the whole route, alternating between hills and trees, and skillet-flat fields of corn, potatoes, and soy. We rode over wide rivers, including the famous waters of the Mississippi when we passed by St. Louis. Early memories of reading Huck Finn flashed through my mind as we hovered for several seconds above the legendary waterway.

Rupert Sheldrake joined into our conversation, which had been rather lively since the discussion the night before, and the subject of morphic fields intermingled with the corn fields passing left and right. We were listening to a tape from 1982 when Sheldrake gave a talk at Esalen as part of one of Stan Grof’s workshops entitled “A New Science of Life.” If an animal participating in its species’ genetic field undergoes a genetic mutation it may be less like its species but still part of the field. However, if enough mutations occur then the animal may actually change

Photo by Becca Tarnas

morphogenetic fields entirely, becoming a new species and cultivating its own field that will grow with more generations of participation. The ideas fit perfectly into our previous night’s dialogue. My primary question for Sheldrake would be, what accounts for creativity? I believe I understand how species develop based on past generations through the morphic field, but what can bridge between fields? Might that be where the Divine comes in, perhaps to participate with the creativity of the evolving individuals?

By early evening we were pulling up to our destination near Cincinnati, Ohio to be greeted by many members of Matt’s family, including his mother and grandfather. The 105° heat of the day was at last wearing away, but the humidity remained thick in the air with the mosquitoes and fireflies, the latter of whom flashed in the dusk sky like fairies signaling one to a secret woodland feast. We had our own feast inside, followed by an evening dip in the pool and a series of home videos of Matt as a baby and a toddler from his childhood home in Florida.

In the morning we leave for Michigan, for a stay on Green Lake from which many of my own childhood memories abound.

A Long-Expected Journey

So it begins…

This is the first day of a long-awaited journey, one that is two years in planning, and will at last be embarked upon. Two people, a Ford Focus, 18 days, and 6,000 miles (at least!) This morning Matt and I depart upon our cross-country road trip from San Francisco, California to Bennington, Vermont and back. The purpose? To retrieve my belongings that have been languishing peacefully in my dear uncle and aunt’s basement. The true purpose? To have an adventure, a real one, by driving deep into the heart of the American continent, and emerging on the other side to inhale the breeze on the Atlantic coast.

The first leg of the journey may indeed be the longest, as we leave the Bay Area and head east, aiming to arrive in Wendover, Utah by late evening. We will be camping out for our first two nights, before meeting up with family and friends for the remaining overnights of the trip. Our initial plan had been to drive through Colorado, but the wildfires blazing throughout the state have influenced us to reroute north. I am curious if we will see smoke along the way, or if we will be fully out of range. Climate change is indeed doing its damage, from the fires in the West, to the tornadoes in the Midwest and the East, and the 118° temperatures in Kansas. We will be experiencing the rapid changing of our planet first-hand on these travels.

Our planned route for the journey after Utah is to camp again in Cheyenne, Wyoming, then stay with my fraternal family in Kansas City, Kansas, Matt’s family in Cincinnati, Ohio, my paternal family in West Bloomfield, Michigan, before arriving in Bennington, Vermont to stay with more family and pack up my belongings. From the Green Mountain State we’ll drive to the Pioneer Valley, Massachusetts, where I went to school at Mount Holyoke College, and we’ll stay with friends in the area. Our next destination is New York City to stay with another friend, and then we’ll turn our eyes homeward once more. Another pass through Cincinnati and Kansas city, and then a stay with Matt’s aunt in Aspen, Colorado if the pass there is unobstructed by wildfire. If it is, my desire is to turn southwards and see some desert-land before we cruise back into the chilly humidity of our fog-bound San Francisco home.

We are outfitted for the trip with few items of clothing, but a multitude of entertainment: dozens of podcasts of This American LifeFresh AirWait Wait Don’t Tell Me, as well as an obscure Tolkien podcast entitled An Unexpected Podcast. We will also have the treat to listen to Matthew Stelzner’s archetypal astrology podcast Correlations to help us stay attuned to the outer planets as we travel across the surface of our own home planet. Finally, we have the rare privilege of listening to a large collection of audio tapes I salvaged out of my father’s studio: lectures by Joseph Campbell, Rupert Sheldrake, Terrence McKenna, Bruno Barnhart, Robert McDermott, and several others. And lastly, if we can listen to the stereo no more, Matt will have his books on Schelling for his Ph.D. comprehensive exam, and I will have a few books of my own: The Road to Middle Earth by Tom Shippey, On The Road by Jack Kerouac, Spell of the Sensuous by David Abram, and, if a copy stumbles into my hand soon, The Cosmic Game by Stan Grof.

May the stars smile down upon us as we begin this journey, may the unexpected adventures be merry, and the expected ones all the sweeter for occurring,may the road be swift and safe, and may the landscapes be the deep pool from which I’ll fill the cup of my imagination. To quote a great traveller in the wilds of the imaginary, let me conclude:

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.