Van Gypsy Tour 2013
In 2013 my world experienced a major forest fire. A 30 year marriage ended violently and abruptly with nothing to fall on but my dream of focusing all my energy on offering a spiritual center. A place for seekers to study and practice the ways of aligning with our soul song. Sadly the center I had hoped would be my new life to be a catalyst to get on my feet was publicly defiled by my business partner. All those dreams and years of planning coveted by someone I wrongly trusted very much. I was at a loss of what to do.
It seemed my only option was to sell everything but a few totes of momentos from my kids life, pack up the old van and just live in it as I journeyed the backroads. Well this led to nomad living. I often could hear Chris Farley say "I'm living in a van down by the river."
For 9 months I lived in that dusty rose bomb, a 1991 Chevy custom van with 170,000 miles already on it. I packed only what I needed: a small propane burner to cook on, black cast iron skillet, one spatula, warm bed, good stereo, journal, wasp spray (for intruders), books I had been wanting to read, cooler, huge water jug, a canopy with sheer curtains, and a smorgasbord of unperishable foods. Along with sage, sweetgrass, tourmaline, feathers, drum and tambourine that fit into the nooks and crannies of Van Gypsy. A Gypsy haven, honoring my ancestors.
Everything had its place ~ until it didn't.
I would fuel my tank, stay off the interstate and randomly drive until I found a grand hiding spot tucked back in the forest. There I would hunker in for a week or three. The only audience were the faces I saw within and between the trees. Much alone time, much contemplation and at first much wailing.
Every night was a fireside dance ~ a ritual that kept me centered and fairly sane in my insanity. The elementals joined me and the forest loved the music. It became what some call the dark night of the soul. I now call it The Dark Knight of the Soul, for it became an imperial gift to my life.
It seemed my only option was to sell everything but a few totes of momentos from my kids life, pack up the old van and just live in it as I journeyed the backroads. Well this led to nomad living. I often could hear Chris Farley say "I'm living in a van down by the river."
For 9 months I lived in that dusty rose bomb, a 1991 Chevy custom van with 170,000 miles already on it. I packed only what I needed: a small propane burner to cook on, black cast iron skillet, one spatula, warm bed, good stereo, journal, wasp spray (for intruders), books I had been wanting to read, cooler, huge water jug, a canopy with sheer curtains, and a smorgasbord of unperishable foods. Along with sage, sweetgrass, tourmaline, feathers, drum and tambourine that fit into the nooks and crannies of Van Gypsy. A Gypsy haven, honoring my ancestors.
Everything had its place ~ until it didn't.
I would fuel my tank, stay off the interstate and randomly drive until I found a grand hiding spot tucked back in the forest. There I would hunker in for a week or three. The only audience were the faces I saw within and between the trees. Much alone time, much contemplation and at first much wailing.
Every night was a fireside dance ~ a ritual that kept me centered and fairly sane in my insanity. The elementals joined me and the forest loved the music. It became what some call the dark night of the soul. I now call it The Dark Knight of the Soul, for it became an imperial gift to my life.
Journal entry October 2013:
Four months ago I set out on my journey, June 24th, I had made a pact with God.
" I will venture out and explore freely and learn all I could, share all I could and when my plum and dusty rose sweet caravan, Van Gypsy, can no longer make the journey that will be where God has decided I should stay. "
So far I have explored the temples and mystic springs of Utah, the mountains of Colorado, from the southern end of Cortez up into Steamboat and all the beautiful colors and scents in between. I fell in love with the western slopes of the Rockies.
The Gore Range, where I experienced fresh brookies for the first time, the Colorado River where I not only tried to fly fish but was even called Queen Diana of the rafters campground. ( only because I was the eldest and my canopy was enclosed with sheer curtains and a chaise lounge) And then that special cherished time on Yarmony Mountain. Meandering down through organic farm valley and into the Black canyon where I sat alone through an intense electrical storm on top of the canyon, thankfully Van Gypsy protected me. I had the privilege of working in the kitchen of majestic Hare Kristna temple in the heart of Mormon country Utah, then back into Colorado to harvest peaches in Palisades, Colorado.
The people I met along the way were so important to my pilgrimage for they reminded me of the goodness I forgot about., or just could not see. My eyes were being reborn.
Following a Divine message the trail led me to an tearful break down in the four corners of Mesa Verde territory. Another week up into the gorgeous La Plata canyon outside Durango where I met a Peruvian Shaman who showed me how my spirit connects with our PachaMama, Mother Earth in the most beautiful way. She was one of the most loving women I have been honored to meet.
No sooner did I ask in prayer to find and connect with a spiritual community when I was led by another Divine message to Crestone, Colorado. Where dancing around the fire brought such a blast of spirits out of the mountains as a sacred cremation was happening for a local resident in a nearby meadow. Almost knocked me physically off my feet. It wasn't scary in the slightest, in fact it was exhilarating and ethereal. The scent of spirit rising and transforming was intriguing and definitely intoxicating. My couple weeks there were overwhelmingly, energy expanding. All I can say is "wow". Wow about all of it. wow, wow, wow. WOW!
Even the bear that ravaged my camp and ate all my food, making me skedaddle the hell out of there because he scared the living bejesus out of me brings a Wow.
All this time this faithful old 1991 van, Van Gypsy carried me like a Princess anywhere I pleased. Her bed was soft, inviting. We even have a few young artists I was pleased to meet leave their signature on her skin. She got tattooed. She was my home, my sanctuary, my refuge.
It is with the deepest of gratitude to have had the experience of massaging those primal roots. Realizing how my life just always works out.
I am blessed beyond measure ~
Diana ~
Grand daughter of Anna
Daughter of Marta
Four months ago I set out on my journey, June 24th, I had made a pact with God.
" I will venture out and explore freely and learn all I could, share all I could and when my plum and dusty rose sweet caravan, Van Gypsy, can no longer make the journey that will be where God has decided I should stay. "
So far I have explored the temples and mystic springs of Utah, the mountains of Colorado, from the southern end of Cortez up into Steamboat and all the beautiful colors and scents in between. I fell in love with the western slopes of the Rockies.
The Gore Range, where I experienced fresh brookies for the first time, the Colorado River where I not only tried to fly fish but was even called Queen Diana of the rafters campground. ( only because I was the eldest and my canopy was enclosed with sheer curtains and a chaise lounge) And then that special cherished time on Yarmony Mountain. Meandering down through organic farm valley and into the Black canyon where I sat alone through an intense electrical storm on top of the canyon, thankfully Van Gypsy protected me. I had the privilege of working in the kitchen of majestic Hare Kristna temple in the heart of Mormon country Utah, then back into Colorado to harvest peaches in Palisades, Colorado.
The people I met along the way were so important to my pilgrimage for they reminded me of the goodness I forgot about., or just could not see. My eyes were being reborn.
Following a Divine message the trail led me to an tearful break down in the four corners of Mesa Verde territory. Another week up into the gorgeous La Plata canyon outside Durango where I met a Peruvian Shaman who showed me how my spirit connects with our PachaMama, Mother Earth in the most beautiful way. She was one of the most loving women I have been honored to meet.
No sooner did I ask in prayer to find and connect with a spiritual community when I was led by another Divine message to Crestone, Colorado. Where dancing around the fire brought such a blast of spirits out of the mountains as a sacred cremation was happening for a local resident in a nearby meadow. Almost knocked me physically off my feet. It wasn't scary in the slightest, in fact it was exhilarating and ethereal. The scent of spirit rising and transforming was intriguing and definitely intoxicating. My couple weeks there were overwhelmingly, energy expanding. All I can say is "wow". Wow about all of it. wow, wow, wow. WOW!
Even the bear that ravaged my camp and ate all my food, making me skedaddle the hell out of there because he scared the living bejesus out of me brings a Wow.
All this time this faithful old 1991 van, Van Gypsy carried me like a Princess anywhere I pleased. Her bed was soft, inviting. We even have a few young artists I was pleased to meet leave their signature on her skin. She got tattooed. She was my home, my sanctuary, my refuge.
It is with the deepest of gratitude to have had the experience of massaging those primal roots. Realizing how my life just always works out.
I am blessed beyond measure ~
Diana ~
Grand daughter of Anna
Daughter of Marta
