9 Days in the Desert: Day 9

Day 9: And Now Goodbye

Last night I volunteered to be wake-up for our final day. Wake-up can be anything from going around and knocking on people’s tents to playing an instrument or singing a song. This morning I woke up at 5:30 am. The sun was still down and the sky was navy and jeweled with a thin crescent moon glowing high above camp. I sang The Beatles’ Blackbird. As I walked figure eights around the campground and sang, “Take these sunken eyes and learn to see all your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free,” I kept my eyes on the horizon and took note of its moment of silence and darkness just before awakening. For the first time in nine days, I felt hope like a small spark in my chest just beginning to grow. Alone in a sleeping camp with the thought of blackbirds flying, I felt the rise of something beautiful.



After one run through of Blackbird, no one woke or stirred. I took the opportunity the quiet and dark gave me and climbed up on the grey Silverado truck and waited for the sun to rise. A thunderstorm rolled from the southeast cracking lightning and threatening to come our way. The tips of sun began in the east coloring the broken clouds in shades of pink and purple, and the crescent moon still crowned the sky. Elizabeth woke up and came and joined me. We sat together on the roof of the truck. She shared a cigarette with me. We didn’t talk, but instead let silence sit between us. The smoke entered my lungs and the morning sat on my shoulders. I would be O.K. I didn’t need to build walls or fill space with noise. For once, I could just be, she and me sitting on a truck watching the desert come alive, the day begin. That was enough. That was a lot because for the first time in nine days I was present. For the first time, I gave myself permission to be alive in the desert.

By the time the sun had moved over the horizon the entire camp was up and moving about. People were pouring coffee, brushing teeth, heading to the toilet. Our last day was upon us. As I walked back to my tent to begin packing and breaking down, Winston called out, “Look a rainbow!” And there, streaked across the bright sky, an arch of colors just above my tent. This morning brought the desert a blackbird, a crescent moon, pink clouds, a navy sky, a rainbow, and now goodbye.

WWJLD?

On this 30th anniversary of John Lennon's death, I wanted to write something about him. Make a tribute. Say something worth saying (if it is even possible when talking about such a larger than life personality).

John Lennon has long been a a focus of inspiration for me. I remember being a junior in high school taking a Religions of the Word class(I went to a Catholic High School). For my final project I made a poster in black pen and marker of different symbols from all the major religions with the lyrics to Imagine and All You Need is Love written around the borders. I got an "A".


John Lennon was one of my earliest influences (after my parents) in concern to my interest in human rights and social justice.

He still continues to be a major influence on me and a beacon for hope and reason. I have often asked myself, WWJLD?

On 9/11 when President Bush made his public address--his goofy drawl and odd smile giving me no comfort--I thought two things: I want Clinton! and My god, what would John say if he had lived to see this?

And then again, in the last few years--feeling the drag of two wars and the apathy within me and those around me--I have wondered, where is our John Lennon? Where is that person to unify us, guide us, give us hope. These days, those great leaders feel like a nostalgic trend of the past, of days gone by. From time to time I wonder, are all our best leaders dead?

The most tragic part of Lennon's story--at least for me--is that he still had so much he wanted to accomplish. With a small child and an new album on the way, he was bursting with desire to live life. And then I think about that little 5 year old beautiful boy.

Three days before being murdered on the sidewalk in front of the Dakota, where he had made a home with Yoko and Sean, he was quoted in an interview as saying, "What they want is dead heroes, like Sid Vicious and James Dean. I'm not interested in being a dead fucking hero."

As his immigration lawyer, Leon Wildes, said "Can you imagine, if that beautiful man had lived more than five years after he had gotten his green card, what magnificent music he would have continued to bless us with?"

Imagine.

Speaking of immigration. I found this great story from Lennon's immigration lawyer, Leon Wildes, complete with personal anecdotes and hilarious little insights like when he got the call to represent the Lennons he asked, "Alan, tell me, who is John Lennon?" (he also didn't know what cannabis or hash were)

You can read the story here