I can be in the middle of anything and suddenly a memory of a place will flood my mind so much I can’t see or hear what’s happening around me. Today while feeding my boys, they were watching a Veggie Tales Christmas episode. Suddenly Bob the Tomato faded into a deep mud pit in the road in front of me. We went driving to get out of the house. Our end goal was to find the “new retreat center” we could see being slowly built to the Northeast of us. We took the dirt lower road that passed a number of developed properties with the common concrete plastered brick homes. The homes and farms grew less and less established the further into the jungle we got. In that area a farm was only defined by a sudden clearing in the jungle with roughly built terraces and freshly turned dry soil. We passed a few farmers whose eyes spread wide at the sight of white faces passing them on a remote jungle stretch. At a few points, we couldn’t tell which way was road and which was just a jungle path. Thankfully our 4×4 had no trouble trundling onward, until we reached a wet patch. An underground stream must have flowed across that part of the road. We could see tracks in the mud, several feet deep. I could see Lajü debating whether to play it safe or make a run for it. He wanted to do the latter. But he debated since he had two young kids and his wife to consider. We discussed it for a minute, and then he revved the engine and went for it. I was holding Meo in the back seat, I think. All I could think was what we would do if we actually got stuck. We’d have to walk for a mile or more to find a home with a vehicle. But, we made it. The mud was so deep and so thick and dark, it felt like driving through a chocolate pudding. 

But I loved that day, that drive. Something about the rawness of being that close to the simple mess of the earth that makes my soul spark a bit. Life in the West is so predictable that everyday people think it is their right to throw a fit if one cog in their daily life gets jammed. If their mail is mis-delivered. If the bus isn’t on time. If their neighbor sings too loudly. If they hit traffic on their commute. But when you live this close to the land, your day is dictated by what the earth offers – rain, sun, fog, dust, mud, humidity, mosquitoes, or leeches. You accept that this is life. You don’t try to control it. You flow with it. You breathe the rhythm of the wind.