See part one of the Road Trip here

East bound (not down): After our night in PHX, Molly and I headed to Quartzite, always a fave of mine. I think the longer M lives in the rarified artisanal bubble of SF, the more she is appalled by the way the rest of America eats. Initially she was psyched to go to one of the vast jerky palaces Quartzite is known for, but was quickly turned off by the shrink-sealed, decidedly not locally sourced-looking packs of jerky. She then got appalled anew at the thing called a “latte” down the road (“what, honey? You don’t want flavored coffee with that??”)

On the other side of things, I have resided in my distinctly non-twee town long enough to understand that low-quality grub is an evil necessity to po folk like me. (usa, usa)

On to our third groovy, hippie, wind-chimey stop of the trip: The Integraton.

Savvy, savvy sisters now own the Integraton, originally built as an interstellar airport (YOU HEARD ME). Now it’s a lovely area, very crafty and desert-artist, but not too Burning man. The sisters host regular Sound Baths at the Integratron now (yes, you heard me). From my description to friends:

One lies down in a beautiful domed room. Several bowls carved from white quartz are laid out. As the player runs an instrument along the lip of the bowl, the most amazing sound generates. She will set several bowls going and the frequencies fill the space. Very relaxing and mind-expanding. Afterwards, go back downstairs and enjoy the pictoral history of the Integratron.

Probably due to my raw, emotional, bare-bones state, I think I was in the perfect frame of mind to let myself go during the sound bath. Full on hallucinatory spiritual experience. A fraction of the things I saw/felt/heard:

• Distinct memory of being an infant in my parents’ arms, surrounded by my youthful siblings
• Visualization of the life cycle, recursive GIF style: a circle along with an embryo turns into a child turns into an adult turns into an elder turns into an embryo turns into a child and so on.
• Sudden understanding of love not being some warm, rainbow-hued column of light but more of a gritty, sensible necessity designed to fit into place inside one’s being, absolutely no-shit necessary, like a gear.
• A voice telling me to keep moving/move on, keep trying/move on, over and over
• Yeah and other stuff.

L: looking up at the domed interior Integratron Ceiling. R: Outdoor space perfectly synching with the colors/shapes of my current living indoor space.

Then we ended up in what is called “North Palm Springs” at a surprisingly hip little Motel 6. Molly and I could not drive to Sherman’s in Palm Springs for dinner fast enough.

Next AM, we hit some Desert Hot Springs thrifting/junking then I ran her to LAX before sitting in Sunday traffic for 3.5 more hours.

High class trip, through and through.

Random things seen:

L: Two sets of feet out of two windows. R: All-mirrored Wurlitzer jukebox in Desert Hot Springs, Sidewinder Cafe

L: The teal of that garbage truck is ON POINT. R: You are invited (Integratron mini-museum)

Go to last part of this saga: the infuriating part