A number of different characters visit Boulder Gardens. They fill all the positions: writers, painters, sound healers, queer folk, nuclear physicists, travelers, pranksters, musicians. People like Birdman Rick. He has a dog, Susie. He feeds the birds on the property. He’s fond of rattlesnakes. Or Pixl, eccentric artist, green thumb. Or Willow, a reiki healer, and my occasional flamenco partner. What they all have in common is their beingness, this essential trait that I’ve noticed during my time with Garth and the Boulder Gardens community. It is an essential desire to be present, to be grounded and centered, to be oriented to the music, to the earth, to the sky, with the dogs, the plants, and the birds.
Garth’s Boulder Gardens is a special type of place. Since my first time, there is so much that I can say, and so much I will inevitably forget.
This land, what people believe about it, will continue to be there, as long as we honor the offerings we make to it. Our offerings could be physical or mental, they could be roses or intentions. This is a sacred place that will listen. Learn about the land. Learn its curves, its washes. Trust its platforms and steppes. Show up and be any one you want. Put on any costume. Be yourself. Discover what it means to be yourself. Be open to possibilities. Explore your musical side. Take a cold plunge. Meditate in a cave. Sleep under the stars, those glistening stars, perched in the sky, the brilliance of light seeping through the heavens and spilling itself down on those who remember to look up.
What does it mean to love?
To be vulnerable?
To be open to love, to a different pattern for ourselves.
Part of me doesn’t want to name this place and keep it downlow.
Who deserves this place?
And who am I to gatekeep?
Just explore the dessert till you find a dog named Buddha, and then you’ll know you’re home.
Photo credits: Naveed Ansari and Garth Bowles with permission.