Driving through Arizona, New Mexico and Texas means moving through three different time zones. It is time travel of sorts. We didn’t know exactly when we lost an hour as we drove from Arizona to New Mexico.  It seemed like we were driving into an abyss. Long straightaways of two-lane highways with speed limits of 75 mph through plains, vast skies, and only the lines of the road marking our time.  

In a compressed 10 days, we did travel through time, visiting ancient stone formations, undisturbed plains, pioneer roads, modern and post-modern art galleries set in the middle of nowhere, 5-star resorts with luxury amenities, a Japanese-style onsen in a forest, and the best of hippie-chic glamping with a psychedelic vibe. So many different styles of what a good life is, and so many different ideas of a good time. 

Tucson, AZ

Our first stop: The Westin La Paloma in Tucson, AZ, chosen for its proximity to my friend Minna’s house, and for the five beautiful pools on the property. We pulled in at a decent hour, although we were two hours late for dinner. Change of plans along the way by text. Minna, let’s not meet for dinner after all.  We’ll stop by your place after dinner to bring you mulberries from our trees. It had started to rain as we arrived Tucson. Until that today, temperatures had been 113 degrees, then 106. But on the day we got there, it was a mild 92. With the rain, it felt balmy like Hawaii. We got some help from a bellman with a golf cart, who drove our luggage from our Tesla charger parking spot to our room.  But we didn’t load up the coolers, me thinking they could stay in the car. Big mistake. I ended up having to make a second trip with the bellman at 11pm, realizing that it was 96 degrees in the Tesla. 

Exhausted, we went to bed right away. The next morning, I changed into my swimseat and went to lounge by the pool. We enjoyed the 5-star amenities so much that we didn’t check out until 1pm. Which meant a late start to the next leg of our drive:  Las Cruces, NM with a stop to hike at Chiricahua National Monument.

Chiricahua National Monument

We pulled into Chiricahua National Monument a few minutes before 6pm. We were the only vehicle as we rolled through the skinny, tree-lined curvy road up to the top of the mountain. Our Tesla was auto-driving us at 18 mph, and all was quiet, even silent. The rock formations greeting us along the way seemed to whisper that we were going back in time. A time when humans did not dominate the earth.  A time when the spirits could talk with each other through the rocks and the trees.

We parked at the top viewing area, where a trailhead began. It drizzled a little, and there was lightning over the canyon. We decided to put away our water bottles in case it attracted lightning.  Only a few steps in, I gasped. Whole tribes of rock spirits stood before us, as if in congress. We were being called to witness, and perhaps to testify. Had they been human once and frozen in time by a great god? Or are they a life form that stands still in time? Perhaps they bear witness to every visitor passing through. Perhaps they record our blessings and our sins. Are they the judges who ratify or decline our most cherished wishes?  

I knew instinctively to pay respect. We are infinitesimally fleeting, and yet we were the only ambassadors of humankind there, in that moment. I felt holy and trivial all at once. And with every step I took on that trail, the rocks told me that I matter. 

It was not a voice. It was a communal feeling. I had stepped into the deep consciousness of some intelligence I could not name. 

I also knew that these rocks would remember me. I was imprinted and fixed in the collective memory of this intelligence. Even time cannot separate this connection. I no longer felt fleeting as I left. I felt permanent. It is as if the mountain handed me a mission, and I am to enliven their stoic goodness. 

It was not a single moment of epiphany, yet I was aware that something important happened there. It is as if the message needed to steep. Now, some two weeks later, I am deciphering its meaning.  

We hiked out at dusk, and the sky was starting to darken as we rolled out of the same road as we came in. We followed our nav as it guided us through more plains, headed, I thought, to 10 East. My husband slammed on the brakes, and made a sharp right turn.  He had almost missed this turn to Apache Pass.  

Could this be the right way, I asked?  It was a dirt road, as if leading into a vast ranch. Flat, brown, and dusty. This couldn’t be the way to the highway. We checked the nav. Not only was this the way, it was the only way. We didn’t have enough charge to consider any alternate route, which would have been a 56-mile-plus detour.  I cried out as the car bounced on the bumps.  I imagined our tires blowing out. Don’t worry, my husband said, our Tesla is an all-wheel drive. 

I googled Apache Pass, and it said 21 miles of dirt road through a mountain pass. I vocalized every worry. What if the nav didn’t account for these road conditions?  What if it gets so dark that we can’t see?  What if we break down on this dirt road?  There were no lines on a dirt road.  The sun was down and there were storm clouds overhead. What if we get caught in a lightning storm? What if there is a flash flood?  

Stop talking, Mom! my 25-year-old daughter yelled from the backseat. Day 2 of our 10-day roadtrip, and she was already questioning her judgment about joining us on this trip. I had not strongarmed her into coming. I had simply let her know that Dad and I were doing this. She immediately said, Roadtrip?  I want to go on a roadtrip! After 16 months of quarantine, we were all ready for a little adventure. I was surprised that she chose to join us. I was glad, yet part of me worried that she would ruin my trip. The trip would end up being about her, rather than about getting to Dallas to see my sister who was going through chemo for pancreatic cancer. 

I tried to calm myself by tracking our progress on GoogleMap. It took an eternity to travel 2 miles. We were going about 38 miles an hour. We were climbing. It was dark. There was lightning. There was dirt, and more dirt, as far as the headlights could reveal. It was like driving through nothingness. 

I imagined how the pioneers managed in their covered wagons. Apache Pass would have been one of the most well-groomed roads in those days. I tried to focus on the horizon until I could no longer make it out. There was us, and dirt. 

I thought about how we could spend the night in the car if we had to. But how would Roadside Assistance find us on this pass without mile markers, reflectors, or turnoffs?  

I closed my eyes and wondered why we ever wanted to do this roadtrip. We were literally driving through nowhere.

In the nothingness, there we still are. A family. We are alive. We validate each other’s existence. And yes, we were there for each other.

I cheered when the road became paved again, 9 miles in, and sooner than I expected.  I breathed a sigh of relief. We were going to make it to the highway. The signs of civilization slowly appeared with every few more miles closer to the highway. 

Wasn’t that lightning beautiful back there? I said. 

Las Cruces, NM

We drove another 4 hours on a well-paved highway until we pulled into our Hilton Garden Inn in Las Cruces, NM, around midnight. We unloaded our car onto a luggage cart; this time, especially our two styrofoam coolers, our two portable coolers, and our frunk cooler.  All had been provisioned with white nectarines (our daughter’s request), some donut peaches, about ten sweet potatoes that I had roasted, and some freezer food I had cooked up to make sure our freezer did not frost over while we were away, before we could call a serviceman to repair it. All needed to be re-provisioned with fresh ice, and they would not last in 98-degree temperatures throughout the night. Yes, my husband and daughter chided me for bringing this stuff, which ended up being a burden.

White Sands National Park

We never did see the town of Las Cruces. The main appeal of spending the night there was so that we could detour east by an hour to visit the world’s largest pure white gypsum sand dunes. It was like entering another planet as we entered White Sands National Park, flanked on both sides by white sand dunes.  Some green shrubbery managed to grow in this barren extreme heat. We stopped into a gift shop first, before finding the entrance to its __-mile scenic drive. It begins as a paved road, but one-quarter of the way in, the road is no more than packed gypsum sand, as white as the dunes around it. It was like traveling through nothingness. A complete field of white, with only the sky to remind you that you are still on earth. It seemed that the sky was now even more blue as the only contrast against the white dunes. Beautiful as a painting, yet this world was completely empty. The only validation of our aliveness was the dry heat that baked us as we romanticized how perfectly pure the grooves of white gypsum seemed undisturbed by touch. Again, our Tesla silently carried us through, a sealed bubble of air-conditioned refuge. It was like we were on a spaceship landing on new planet.  

We climbed only one dune to take photos, mostly Kristen taking photos of us, then her Thingamajig jewelry featured on the white sand. It became so unbearably hot that we gave up the beauty of this place, which would have been a gorgeous place to empty your mind for meditation. Instead we drove to another trailhead, which had some walkways built through the sand dunes. We saw a white gekko with bright blue tail. And as beautiful and inviting a scene this place was, we were simply too hot to stay out. We collected the white sand from our sneakers into a little plastic bag as a souvenir, and got back on the road. 

We needed to charge, so we headed back to Las Cruces for a destination charger.  It was located outside a medical building, and luckily we could slip inside to use their air-conditioned bathrooms. But this particular charger was not a supercharger, so we sat there for 90 minutes. On Day 3 of our trip, we hadn’t yet developed the experience and confidence of charging along the way, and we had some trepidation that we may not have enough charge to get us to the next supercharger in El Paso. After all, we were moving into the heartland of nowhere. 

We watched our phones update as we lost an hour as we crossed from New Mexico into Texas. We had not considered this in our trip planning, so we would arrive Marfa later than planned. 

Marfa, TX 

It was pitch dark as we drove the single-lane highway to Marfa. But straight ahead of us on the left, there was a bright structure of light. What’s that?! Our daughter asked, pointing. It looked like a modern building sitting on an empty desert, and at first I thought there might be an ecosphere.  I started to look on Google. But moments later, it changed, and I said, It must be the sun!  Everyone seemed to accept this even though it had been pitch dark for several miles now.  Clearly the sun had already set. Oh, my gosh, it’s the moon! My husband said. And he was right, it was the most remarkable strawberry moon we had ever seen. Big and round and orange. It was the hero of the night sky. We watched it rise over the dark highway that night, and it would be one of my fondest memories of our trip. Remarkable. Perfectly beautiful. Grand. I felt blessed to witness it. We were alone in the middle of nowhere, but we couldn’t have been more fulfilled. 

As we pulled up to the Prada Store art exhibit on the side of a dark highway, our steps were lit by that strawberry moon. 

We were close enough to Marfa now that we had a shot at seeing the Marfa Mystery Lights, so we headed to the viewing station before checking into El Cosmico. The viewing station was a well-appointed modern amenity in the middle of nowhere. It was a large stone building with public bathrooms, and a viewing area with benches and telescopes. We saw some random lights that were most definitely cars traveling in the distance, but nothing that qualified as mystery lights that night. It was cool and breezy and a comfortable night to be sitting in the middle of nowhere. 

We could imagine this to be a place for alien sightings. As we looked up into the cloudy sky, we were sad that we couldn’t make out any stars. The strawberry moon was also casting too much light in one of the darkest places in the U.S., but I wouldn’t trade a night sky filled with stars for that magical strawberry moon. 

We didn’t get to El Cosmico until close to 11pm. It was quiet there except for a guitar in a nearby teepee. My husband went to search for the Tesla Destination Charger, which after a long seach was conveniently placed near the main building.  My daughter and I grabbed a few overnight items, so that we could avoid unloading the entire car, and found our way with the light of our iphones to Teepee #5. 

El Cosmico is a little bit of an enlightened place, with modern creature comforts and a hippie-chic vintage feel. I am sold on glamping if this is the standard for glamping. Inside our teepee, we had a double bed, a single cost, a couch, two nightstands, a lamp, and a firepit. There were robes on a hook and turkish towels neatly folded for us. 

We went searching for the bath house and toilets, and ended up at the further option. It was artfully set up with and old metal sink, and outdoor rooms with toilets that had canvas-covered doors with metal frames. It smelled clean, and looked inviting.  

The next morning, I woke up to a dream. Our little cluster of teepees were beautiful against the colorful sky of sunrise. I walked around to see the dozens of vintage mobile homes that have been set up as lodging. I found my way to the communal kitchen, hoping there’d be coffee, but there wasn’t. Then I swung for a little while in the outdoor hammocks, and enjoyed the view of the trees overhead, and the cool mobile homes in front of me. 

I totally loved it, and glad we made the effort to drive to Marfa. 

We left El Cosmico by 8:15 to get to our appointed visit to the Chinati Foundation. Lots of concrete cubes installed by Donald Judd. I could appreciate the different studies of the angles of light, but I have to admit that the effort of casting all those concrete cubes seemed a bit excessive. I didn’t really “get it.” 

Next, we drove to town, and had coffee and breakfast at a cute little cafe called Do Your Thing. 

They had little vases of century plant flowers. The coffee was good, and we needed a real meal. 

We walked around town, and peeked into many galleries that had not yet opened. It was close enough to opening time that we ended up staying in Marfa until about 1pm. Had pizza. Visited the Marfa Ballroom, and several galleries and an art store. 

Chinati Research Center -  Botanical Gardens

We were looking at a 10-hour drive to Dallas, but we couldn’t resist stopping by the Botanical Gardens in Fort Davis. A quick spin but really satisfying. They had a greenhouse of the largest collection of cacti. 

We drove through more straightaway roads through the plains, through little towns along the way where the speed limit would drop from 75 to 45mph. It was rainy that day. I wondered if we should stop to sleep over in Abilene on the way. My husband toughed it out and we arrived Dallas at about 1am. 

Dallas - 4 Days

If ever there was a good place to have car trouble, it was during our 4-day stay in Dallas. We got a nail in our back tire, and we didn’t discover it until we were about to take our car to visit my friend June.  

Luckily, Discount Tires fixed the tire for free, and warranted the work.  

We spent the next few days mostly visiting with my sister. We had dinner one night at June’s restaurant, Hello Dumpling. Had such a good time talking and laughing until after midnight!  My daughter met up with her designer friend Mary Lo, who has a line of clothing, bags, and shoes. She brought them over for us to shop, and we bought a bunch of fun things. 

The next morning, my daughter did a dress-up photo shoot of me and my sister. Some precious photos. 

On our last day, I went with my sister for her chemo infusion. We did not leave until 8pm. Luckily, we booked a last-minute overnight stay at a hotel two hours away, so it was just right for cutting our drive to Santa Fe the next day.  

Santa Fe, NM 

We woke up at the Hilton Historical Plaza, excited to go to the Georgia O’Keefe Museum only to discover that we should have made reservations in advance. However, I called to ask if we could walk in, and they advised us that there are a limited number of walk-ins available. We decided to walk to the closest museum at the Plaza  -- the Museum of Art, then discovered the Plaza with the many Native American jewelry vendors. Each made and signed their jewelry by hand, and stoically bore the heat.  Some who were lucky enough to draw the lottery that morning could get a spot in the shade. Others lined themselves on a hot sidewalk. Our daughter fell in love with a silver bracelet with turquoise and a silver and turquoise pendant; both heirloom-worthy pieces.  She shuffled over a silver spiral pendant (symbol of life journey) and couldn’t decide if she should buy. After much indecision, I encouraged her to buy it, to avoid regret that someone else picks it up while we are deciding. Each one was one of a kind. She bought the turquoise and silve pendant on the spot, a great piece priced right, but equivocated on the rest.  I know it was that she loved it, but didn’t want to overspend.  As we were pulling away from the Plaza in our Tesla, she ran back to buy the bracelet. Dressed in her boho-chic summer outfit, she would curate a piece of genuine Native American culture into her collection of vintage, recycled, upcycled, arty, beachy-yet-urban, left-leaning style. Somehow she mixes the old and the new into a unique style that is fresh and enviable. It’s a mashup of time and mindset that makes a head-turning statement. I ended up going back to the Plaza the next morning by myself to search for that pendant again and bought it; sort of another turn back in time, to look for something we loved and didn’t want to let go of. 

We went hunting for lunch, a food truck called Ras Rody’s Jamaican Vegan. It was difficult to find and we almost missed the turn, but it was well worth the search. In a parking lot seemingly in a residential area, there was a well-worn food truck run by just one young man. The daily set menu seemed simple with few choices, but the flavors were complex and perfect. We ate in the car, since there were no tables, and ended our meal with pumpkin pudding, which came in a soft loaf -- by far the best meal I ate this entire trip.  

After lunch, we went to a boutique-y vintage store, and next door there was the tiniest and most spectacular glass bead shop called Baca Beads. The owner, a woman in her seventies, made every single bead by hand. It was a curio museum with antique drawers with hundreds of compartments. The endless color combinations -- swirls, flower designs, some earthy, some girly, some ritzy, and each one unique-- was a marvel to behold. She had the cutest little dog already 12 years old, but with so much puppy energy. We spent a long time in that store, frugally selecting some purchases, and loved every minute. 

Then we ventured into a stone and crystal shop and found a few items for jewelry-making;  a larger vintage store where I found an onyx and silver pendant that reminded me of my daughter’s turquoise pendant, which needs some love and polish. I decided that I was the right owner to put the shine back onto that piece of timeless beauty. It was like it whispered to me, “This is a symbol of your lasting worth.” 

After that, we made our way to the Georgia O’Keefe Museum, which made me see that she lived out what Nature put inside her, and what Nature presented to her. She is an artist through and through, and she found the simple intersection of the present and the absent. I enjoyed seeing how she filtered the world, and I think it left me with a new kind of curiosity and confidence to investigate further each thing that I see in the outer world and the inner world. 

Later that night… in my sleep

These fleeting pictures that come to me, which I most often dismiss and forget about, I am now trying to pin them in my mind, to explore the meaning of why they came. The notion that a black crow was pecking at my hand. I did not feel any pain or fear, yet I was very much alive.  The dream I had of searching for a bathroom in the theatre district of an unknown city.  I wanted to get tickets for a play, but I desperately needed to go. Finally I was allowed to use the bathroom of a small theater, but when I walked in, the tiny bathroom stained with evaporated urine everywhere. Every inch of the walls and floor was sticky. The wish that I could have made different choices, contemplated in a frozen frame, is now the germ of a new story about a woman who unlocks a genie in a rock formation and gets seven wishes. She wishes to live out the lives that she missed. 

The next day, I read a news article about twin sisters in Australia who live as if they are one and the same person, sharing a boyfriend for ten years, shower and pee together. One of the stories I’m working on is about twins. 

It is the simplicity and non-judgmental framing of things that Georgia O’Keefe showed me. We must honor what we see, what the world serves us to see. From that place arises art. 

I had read about Meow Wolf but had not been set on visiting until my friend June said it is a must-see. It was an odd place, more kitchy exploitation of modern art trends, and amusement park reaching for some kind of psychedelic veneer.  I did not like it.  It felt phony and pretentious, and a money-making scheme that left a lot to be desired.  We blew $120 for the three of us to visit. Check, it’s done. It was not a good trip. 

But on the way, we stopped into Goodwill.  Even though it was a terrible one with a poor selection, my daughter found a long beige slip dress with lace trim. It is something that is prettier used than new, and likely more appreciated at $9 now than the $75 it must have cost new. Time can wear down the polish of silver, but it also makes something flimsy much more durable.  

The next day, we decided to use our Cultural Pass to visit the Museum of Indian Arts, and the Museum of International Folk Art.  The former was really a painful walk through colonialism.  The latter featured an exhibit about the Yokai, the supernatural demons of the Japanese tradition. That exhibit transported me into the village culture of old Japan, where demons took on different shapes for different circumstances. Modern-day anime has transformed these demon characters into an international cultural phenomenon. Even I, who has no connection to the history of Japan, feel proud of the level of creativity to both preserve and transcend a folklore tradition that continues to define the Japanese mindset.  The Yokai are timeless beings, yet they can come alive only when there is a community of storytellers who give them context.  How many other timeless beings are waiting in hibernation, waiting for a moment to be able to be the center of attention? 

The perfect next stop was Ten Thousand Waves, a beautifully appointed onsen in a forest in the Santa Fe Mountains. We had a private bath reservation, and we soaked in its waters as well as its Japanese architecture and decor. This day felt like a quick transport to Japan. After our soak, we admired the koi pond, and explored the meandering paths to more therapy rooms.  

Reluctantly we left the wooded fantasy of Ten Thousand Waves, and started our drive toward Scottsdale -- our final overnight. Our route was supposed to allow for a visit to the Petrified Forest National Park, but we arrived much too late at dusk, and the gates of the park had closed at 4pm.  We had hoped to do the scenic 28-mile drive through, but even that was inaccessible.  So we continued on, knowing that our second stopover at Tonto Bridge would also not be possible. We again arrived at the steps of our 5-star hotel on the late side, and I tried to wake my daughter from the car so that she could see the gorgeous lights of the resort at night.  She wouldn’t budge.  After finally finding our way to our bungalow, we went immediately to bed.  

Scottsdale AZ

We spent the morning in the pool, but it was really too hot to enjoy being outside. What my daughter was most excited about was thrifting in Scottsdale. She navigated us to several spots, where both of us emerged with piles of great finds. I actually think that day changed my wardrobe and my style forever. In one afternoon, I changed my outlook from a bedraggled, graying, middle-aged wannabee writer to a confident, joyful, and youthful spirit who looks forward to inventing a new routine without the burden of a full-time executive job. 

Yesterday I talked with my son who is developing an app called Strive. It is meant to be a habit tracker and goal support tool. It had been a couple of weeks since we last talked. In that time, this roadtrip had been my fixation -- an intensive ten days of travel, plus many hours planning ahead. I had brought my journal along, but had time only twice to record anything in it. I had brought my laptop along, thinking that I’d have downtime to read a whole Dropbox of documents for a consulting gig, and to do some writing for myself. None of that happened. Instead I went to bed that night completely spent, and it would not be another 24 hours before I could face my laptop. 

The stories we tell ourselves makes each task more loaded and dramatic than it needs to be. Instead of fixating on getting through the next thing on the calendar or reaching for the next milestone, which makes time fly at a breathtaking and absentminded speed, we should be freezing those moments that inspired us, to pull apart and step in. This is the trick that makes time stand still, and move at a mindful pace that brings meaning to each day. I’ve let 57 years slip through my fingers at hyperspeed. My travel through time now must be viscous enough so that I can taste it and savor it.  

Since being home for a week, I’ve wrapped up all the final business with my last employer. I’ve been reading White Teeth by Zadie Smith for my next book club. I’ve started to do some writing. And I’ve connected with old friends and a few new ones. Yesterday we installed our new roof rack on our Tesla so that we can carry our paddleboards to the beach.  The surf was a bit too high for paddleboarding, but we enjoyed the warm ocean, riding the surf on our boards. Yoga has started several of my mornings, followed by a refreshing bath and coffee. Some writing. A lot of reading for pleasure and work, learning about a new space and hoping to contributing to a more inclusive economy through capital. Many evenings have been mindless guilty pleasures, watching Chinese romantic comedy serials.-- under the guise of “improving my Chinese.”

I would appreciate a little more structure, as long as it doesn’t turn into “work.” Let me enjoy work like a special interest, a passion, or a mission for social good. Let me do only so much that I can tap into my talents, but not so much that I feel indentured to work.  I am taking my life back, and it starts with understanding time travel. I am the master of my time.  I can slow it down to enlarge the frame I want to live in, contemplate in, and create in. I can make the frames matter by looking more closely. Each frame of this trip changed me, and I wouldn’t have known it had I not reflected on it through the lens of being in nowhere. It took a physical trip through the middle of nowhere. I had to go on the trip in order to revisit the trip. I had to be present then and there to receive the presents here and now. It took effort to make the trip, but it felt effortless to tell you about my trip. It was about time.  And it is about time I understood.   

Isn’t it ironic?  Today, I am beginning an online course taught by a shaman, and the first lesson is called “The Practice of Mastery of Time.”