I am floating in a directionless manner.

I am overwhelmed with options. My mind lacks focus where it is needed, and squanders focus on minutiae. I am floating in a directionless manner. 

I could find a house share in Ashland Oregon. I could rent a room, buy a Juki TL-2010q sewing machine, and fall deep into making absurd quilts. There is a co-op in Ashland, and everybody is friendly there. Bicycles and pedestrians rule the town. You can ride into the mountains on fire roads right from the center of town. 

I could buy five acres of land in the desert. I could park a derelict RV in the center, and begin the process of creating a new intentional community. I would find like-minded folks to park vehicles and share resources and expenses. There would be a succulent garden.

I can move back to Kennett Square Pennsylvania. I have a tiny house there. I already built it, and it is sitting there empty and alone. I can rearrange the interior, knock out the wall that separates the area that was going to be a bathroom but was never completed. I can cover the unfinished section of floor with a carpet remnant. I can buy a Juki TL-2010q sewing machine, and turn the tiny house into a sewing studio with a sleeping loft above. I already have a Singer 201-2, and a Singer 221 Featherweight, so the studio would be cute and capable. 

I am headed east, and leaning toward the third option. I built a tiny house. I can show it some love. I can repair my ailing online bookstore and save money for future inspiration. I can save money, and focus on improving my sewing skills. That is what I am doing. I am going home, as I have always done, and taking some time to think and consider.

I am not moving to Joshua Tree. Yet.

I'm not moving to Joshua Tree. Not yet. I told some people that I probably was. Maybe I will. Later.

I found a third of an acre for sale one block from town. A short walk to the visitor center on Park Road. In the middle of the small amount of activity that exists along the strip along CA-62 to the north of the park. I drove to Joshua Tree to set my feet on that land, and I was ready to pay $5000 to put my name on it. It was sold before I got there.

I would be happy to throw money away as a questionable investment or speculation on that little piece of land. I was ready to buy that land, and park the biggest, cheapest, oldest, ugliest bus I could find right in the middle. I was ready to build a short cinder block wall around that bus. I was fully prepared to slowly accumulate dead sewing machines, and cement them atop the perimeter of the wall. I was excited to paint the bus in long horizontal stripes of white and lime green. I was ready to cut a hole in the roof of the bus, and raise the roof by three feet. Roof deck for sunrise and sunset and viewing of stars.

I was ready to throw down.

I stayed in town for a few days. I recognized the magic. I also felt the ongoing internal struggle inside of my mind, and my chest, and my body, and my universe. I was lonely, and I was cold. I was not ready.

I still would have paid $5000 for that lot. I was ready to put my name on it and wait. I was not ready to settle for second best. You can pay more for land that is a little bit further away. I drove around and got the lay of the land. If something pops up in the future, I am ready to spring.

I want my bus, and my freedom to sculpt a whimsical hideaway. There is time. I am open to every option in the world. For now I will continue to save my money and wait. There are infinite dreams to distract us. I hope I can settle on one some day.

What are my options? Will you join me?

You will find serenity here. If you are looking for it.

I drove out to Joshua Tree to confirm that it is indeed a magical place. This was confirmed by a security guard in the Walmart parking lot. I was cooking up some eggs, and the security vehicle pulled up alongside.

"Did you sleep alright last night?"

I didn't know if this was a trick question or not. I also couldn't see how it made a difference, so.

"Yes, thank you."

The security guard seemed genuinely pleased that I had slept well.

"Nobody will ever be bothered here."

This is not what I expected to hear. The fact that he was being friendly, and he waited until my side door was wide open and the sun was up -- that was enough. I expected to be told that there was a one night policy, or some other restriction on being a bum. But no. He just wanted to let me know that I was safe and welcome. We chatted for a few minutes.

"This is a magical place" he told me. "You will find serenity here. If you are looking for it."

I was looking for serenity. I always am. At my best times, I find it. But my emotions run the gamut. Often.

I went in to use the bathroom. On my way back to the van I got a big wave and a smile from my new friend.   .... a kind security guard in the Walmart Parking lot in Yucca Valley California.