Ode to Sam Shepard from the High Mojave Desert
A few days before the passing of Sam Shepard, I spent 4 days in the Mojave desert. I can only imagine that it’s a place dear to him. He shot “The Right Stuff” at the Edwards Air Force base, a few miles away from where I was staying. Out there, your body and mind slow down. Out there your imagination roams as free as the land stretches and the wildlife run, burrow and and fly. There’s an almost non-being that the desert allows you to inhabit and disappear into. You’re there, but you’re not at the same time. It’s magic. It’s the sort of magic that only a vast high desert provides, gleefully unperturbed by the hubbub of urbanization.
I’m sure Sam Shepard heard many a sonic boom in the desert. Sonic booms jumped me from my garden seat my first morning. I literally ducked thinking I may be in the line of fire of some distant shrapnel but is was just some aircraft reaching the speed of sound. No big deal. Apparently they’re doing “tests” on reducing sonic boom noise. Besides the noise, this town seems unbeholden to the government, in any form. There is no police to speak of. Being near one of the U.S.’s most top secret air force bases somehow affords it a sanctity from normal civic institutional entities.
I imagine Sam was captured by the solitude and the beauty of not just the desert, but the wild, strong, brave and peculiar animal and folk that you meet out here.The land hosts vast stretches of flat land, brush, improvised dirt roads, ancient dried out lake beds, coyote, snakes, rabbits, lizards, birds, and bobcats. They live in surprising comfort it seems. Especially the ones that lived in my this desert oasis on this very edge of Kern County.
The desert has been synonymous with amazing hospitality and humble folk. Like the Abraham welcoming the three angels, in the oaks of Mamre, you will find people willing to show you their tent and a feast, sheltering you from the heat. There are people out there that you can’t even dream up and are characters that also inhabit Sam’s stories. Borrowed, breathed, they can be found and should be relished. They are restless wanderers that have found a place, some permanent some temporary, to rest their head. Wanderers find a peace and solitude here. As far away from that buzz of society as one can possibly fathom, any culture, politics, and entertainment can be turned on and off with the press of a radio or TV dial.
Yeah, I bet Sam liked this place too. Maybe that dust storm I saw my last day there foretold his passing. Maybe that unbelievably starry night with a shooting star every 10 seconds, could have foretold this. Maybe the wonderment I felt at discovering a prehistoric lake bed on a hike in the desert could have foretold it? Maybe the sunset that I didn’t think would be such a big deal, but was a big deal could have foretold this. Maybe the laughter and company of likeminded misfits in the windy high desert night could have foretold it. Maybe that breeze, waving leaves back and forth, the light to heavy whistle of a rustling of a desert willow tree captured the soul of Sam too. Yeah, I bet it did.
