The first two days
June 24, 2020
We planned on leaving Fort Collins, our temporary home for the past 6 weeks, this day. Sunny and warm, the dirt parking lot dry beneath our feet. Steve’s family always close by had spoiled us. The time we were able to spend with them had nurtured our spirits, giving us strength for our new nomadic existence. Together. Two cats and two dogs in addition to the two of us.
We learned much these past 6 weeks. It was a necessary baby step into this next adventure in our lives. Parked near Steve’s brother-in-law’s boat repair shop behind a health club we eased into living in a bus. We had projects to finish, the bus needed to be painted, and we needed time to learn how to make this work. Brent was a huge help with some fiberglass projects and his companionship and easy nature was truly a pleasant thing to experience.
However, challenges presented themselves without warning. The constant walking over animals became unbearable at times for Steve. The constant cleaning up after animals became a chore I had started to dread. Especially when “accidents” happened, which they did. It is a big adjustment for us all, humans and animals. It is not easy for any of us.
After a long talk with Steve’s Mom, Lana, our spirits were renewed and our love for each other and this life we had chosen 4 years ago deepened. Her wise words and gentle yet firm guidance helped us find the necessary tools inside us to take this step. Driving off into the world.
We had started the bus about five days earlier, just to make sure it still started. We got packed up, things put away, put the keys in, and then nothing. Our batteries had drained (our ignition appears to be tricky at times to shut off). We just sat there for a moment, not trying to read anything into what had just happened. Brent gave us a jump; we found an auto parts store nearby to have our batteries tested at and we drove off.
The batteries tested low, but appeared to be recharging, however there was mention of a ripple, not the sci-fi type, but something to do with the alternator. Since Seven the bus was running, we headed off, north to Laramie, WY, planning on stopping at a truck stop there to check our tire pressure, batteries and fluid levels.
The drive was beautiful. Sunny and surprisingly not too windy. We found a new Love’s truck stop and spent around 2 hours trying to figure how to check our tire pressure, what pressure they should be inflated to, and checking our fluid levels. We finally decided on 90PSI for the tire pressure and had them filled for us for five dollars, well worth it. Seven seemed to be enjoying her first outing and running well, so off we went.
Our first destination was Rawlins, WY, or somewhere near there to sleep for the night. I-80 with its’ usual gusty winds was a bit of an unpleasant challenge, but we made it through and found a beautiful spot just north of Rawlins in BLM land to sleep for the night. The sunset was spectacular, the hint of the crescent moon was not bright enough to dim the lights of the billions of starts, galaxies and planets we could see in the sky. The quiet around us was only occasionally interrupted by a faint noise from the highway about 2 miles back.
June 25, 2020
The sun woke us up with its’ warmth and the birds serenaded us with their songs. Two gentlemen on bicycles stopped as they passed us and asked if we had water to spare. They were biking to Rawlins, WY and planning on getting a hotel room, a pizza and some beer that evening as they had been camping out much of their trip. After filling their water bottles and a brief chat they headed out and we followed in opposite directions.
On our way toward Lander, WY to visit a friend, John Boulette, we stopped in Jeffrey City. This town used to house many of the miners that worked in the nearby uranium mines. Greeting us when we stopped were a family of antelope, guarded by a strict male who uttered cough-like grunts at us to keep us away. We leashed up the pups and headed out for a walk, keeping our distance from the antelopes. Storm clouds created an eerie backdrop for this forgotten city. Abandoned buildings surrounded us. Between small roads homes once stood; where children played, where laundry hung out to dry; now flat and empty. The field where the high school once stood, complete with an Olympic size pool, is now covered in straw to help keep dust from blowing in the Wyoming winds. Bunkhouses for the men, apartments and mobile homes appeared to be unoccupied. The mines closed in 1981 and the inhabitants left for other opportunities, they left these buildings to fend for themselves.
Our next stop was a used bookstore at Sweetwater Station. It started to rain and our bus would have been a tight fit in their small driveway so we stopped it on the highway, put the hazard lights on and headed toward the bookstore which also sold fresh eggs. We passed old, vacant cabins in various states of collapse. After braving the coming rain, we found the bookstore was not open so we scurried back up the hill to the bus. A bit wet, we shed our coats and……Seven would not start. Steve tried many times and nothing.
Not knowing what else to do, I looked up the phone number to the Mad Dog and the Pilgrim Booksellers. A kind woman answered the phone and I explained where we were and our predicament and if someone there could possibly help us and jump our bus battery. She wasn’t at the shop and her partner had just had knee surgery and wasn’t mobile yet but she suggested we look across the street and if there was a white truck there it belongs to a nice man named Joe who would help us. I looked out the window and Joe was outside; told her I saw him and we said goodbye.
Steve ran across the street, explained our situation to Joe, and Joe hopped in his white Chevy Silverado, hooked up chains to our bus (23,900 pounds without water or the trailer, both of which we now had), and pulled us off the highway into the open area in front of a couple of buildings. He said he’d help us as soon as the rain stopped and then just disappeared. We never saw which direction he went; he just wasn’t there anymore.
A voice spoke softly to Steve and told him to try turning on the bus again. He listened, turned the key, and Seven started right up as if nothing had happened. The rain eased up and we pulled the bus forward a bit out of the deeper puddles from the rain. Still no sign of Joe. Steve went out to try to see where Joe had gone and looked at the trailer hitch, which was in the process of breaking off the back of the bus, A poor welding job done long ago just wasn’t able to keep the bouncing trailer secure much longer.
Joe appeared from around a building and gave us a tour of the bar he had just purchased. The previous owner had walked away from it as business had slowed to a crawl. The roof was nonexistent in places, but the potential was there. Bar stools still held their place proudly in front of the small wooden bar with a cash register at one end. Joe, dressed in blue jeans, boots and a comfortable-looking shirt, offered us free glasses, magazines, a drink from an abandoned bottle of spirits, all of which we politely declined. We went back outside to see what we could do about the trailer situation. Joe helped us get the hitch back up to about where it was when it broke and we unhitched the trailer. He kindly offered to let us leave it there until we could get the hitch fixed in Lander. Our small trailer and our two bikes attached to it wait patiently for us to return to Sweetwater Station.
Storm clouds over Jeffrey City.
Mad Dog and the Pilgrim Booksellers
Our original weld gone bad.
Our trailer left with Joe will wait patiently for our return.
Seven just before spray foaming. Pristine, well, sort of. Cleaner than she had been in a long time. Taped and ready for spray foam insulation installation.
Seven just after spray foaming. A mess. A complete mess. A daunting task to scrape off the unwanted spray foam insulation from where it need not be. Finding the lights in the back and the front so carefully taped over.
Seven's transformation is very much like our own. She went from a clean, beautiful shell back to her insides being a mess. She took a step back. Just as we do. We feel the patterns arising again. Instead of choosing love, we choose ego. Denying that we are there, going through the motions of love with no love behind the actions.
My truly amazing partner and I struggle with this often. Way more often than we would like. Our desire is to always come from love. Our reality is to allow ego to once again rear its' ugliness, allow the insecurities to flow through us as if in our veins. allow the fear to once again take over. Once step back. Yet again. The pattern is exhausting, full of frustrations. As I looked into his eyes last night before he went to bed I saw no love from his eyes. Absolutely none. The ego had once again landed strongly in him. No matter what I ask, how I try, the ego has it's hold on him and I cannot break it. He must break from his ego. Just as I must break from mine when it controls me with its' speak of unworthiness, unlovable, ugly.
I ask repeatedly, time after time, is it gone yet...meaning the ego. Time after time, the same reply....yes, it is gone. Yet the empty and cold eyes looking at me when these words are spoken tell me differently. The ego is there, strong and controlling. I can see it in his expression. On silent drives home.
My first reaction? Let my ego take over. Push away as I can do so very well. What does my heart tell me? Run to him, hold him close, let my love reduce his ego to what it should be, what ours should be.....nothing. We have no need for our ego's protection, its way of making us feel less than we truly are to serve its own purpose.
Can we come from love? Of course. Can we do it always? Of course not. We are in transformation, learning the path of love, stumbling as we go and sometimes taking a very unwanted and unwelcome step back after taking many steps forward.
It is not an easy process, this thing called transformation. We, as little caterpillars, try so hard to make our cocoons to transform ourselves into the butterflies we know we can be. We must have patience and love for ourselves during these times, when the cocoon just won't hold our caterpillar bodies, allowing the transformation to fully happen. We, as human caterpillars, must allow for these moments, but we must learn from them and continue on our path to transformation. Continue taking steps forward and treating ourselves and each other with love when there is a step back.
Frustration is taking me over. I am frustrated with our bus Seven, with myself, with Steve, with everything having to do with this transformation.
Answers to our questions of "How do we do...." framing around the windows, the bus heater than we may or may not should have torn out, the control panel in the front, how to finish the front stairs.....never seem to have answers.
The question of "How will we pay for all this"? The heater, the refrigerator, the solar panels, the composting toilet, the hot water heater.
The question of "How and where will we mount the water tanks, the propane tanks? How will we add a tow hitch? What will we be towing for Steve's artwork?".
How will it all come together? How can there be so many facebook pages, blogs, Skoolie sites, and youtube videos and no answers to our questions? How much more time can I waste looking for answers that are nowhere to be found?
I am tired. Tired of no answers, tired of physically hurting, tired of not agreeing on finishes to the bus.....just tired.
Hope and faith.....this is all I have left.
Hope that the frustration will give way to inspiration. Hope the physical pain will decrease. Hope that the answers will come.
Faith in that all will work out. Faith in that our ideas will work. Faith in that the money will come. Faith in that WE can make it work, with the love of each other, on a bus, together. I gotta' have faith.
Two People...One Bus...sharing in a process...the Process of Transformation.
The result of plugging "define transformation" into the almighty Google Algorithm was this, and for once it seemed, I actually was presented with the information I was looking for, right there in front of me at the top of the screen...
"A thorough or dramatic change in form or appearance."
It is a simple and most profound way to describe this amazing segment of our now shared journey. The way in which this particular definition seems to resonate is quite remarkable.
First, because we recently acquired this classic 1989 BlueBird School BUS, and over time, it will go through its own dramatic change in form and appearance. A transformation from hauling screaming but eager to learn young ones in a Southern Colorado school district, to eventually become our shared home as we travel about somewhere...wandering aimlessly.
Second, and most importantly is US. It actually began about 2 years ago when we first made this most amazing personal discovery of each other. Our 50 plus years in creating and following distinctly different paths, each in their own states of condition and direction, and finally merging to form a common path. Drawn together for what I'm sure is a multitude of universal cosmic reasons.
At the top of this list of explanations, because I'm sure there is a list somewhere and it probably rests amongst a large pile of receipts that still await entry into the QuickBooks account, is this one strong and deep down shared desire. The desire to TRANSFORM, and be free of our freaking habitual minds and to finally choose peace. To make the choice to come from love instead of that sneaky thing called the ego. Which we both know may have been there for us to somehow keep us safe and protected...but which now we have decided no longer serves us. To finally allow that stillness of peace, that is already there at our disposal, into our everyday existence. To let it become the new habit instead of this fleeting, seemingly out of reach fantasy.
This new chosen way of existence also coincides with the letting go of our old stories. The stories that we've created for ourselves and have become very firmly attached to. We started and built upon those stories with everything we experienced in the past. Then allowed them to be reinforced by everything we did, said...and had done and had said to us. Then seemingly allowing those very same stories to become part of our personal identity. That personality is the one we were taught to be so proud of, the one that we thought defined us. But that in actuality has nothing to do with us, because it is after all, only a story, albeit a firmly entrenched one.
Together we have chosen to transform, with that dramatic change in form or appearance coming from within. Not so much a visual change but an inner change. One you can't really see on the surface but one that can be felt...and what an amazing difference it can be.
We choose to allow the energy and love to flow in every moment. Instead of choosing to act out from that story in our minds because of a seemingly random, strategically place trigger. But which actually serves a purpose. In providing us the opportunity to react differently. In a way that is peaceful instead of not. In a way that is loving instead of not. In a way that frees us from those shackles that we for so long let bind us. As we were bound to the habit of ego fulfillment.
It has been a challenge at times and may continue to be. We shall indeed find out...and it will be amazing...as we TRANSFORM together.