notes from a traveling minister

Monday June 1, 2009

Friends Southwest Center, McNeal AZ –

These are Isaiah’s stars, I think, and I sip my cup of water in the dark, sitting on the bench by the meeting house, and I let that sink in, and look back up. The milky way is a distinct feature again tonight, cloudy but not clouds, a swath, an arc from northeast to southwest. Not smoke, not mist: suns, like our sun. Isaiah’s stars, and I start imagining him on the temple mount looking south, like I am this still early early morning. A car dopplers by on the state hwy from Douglas and Agua Prieta, back up the road to McNeal, Elfrida, Wilcox; it’s headlights and fading sound marking a total stillness in the night, a stillness so acute I’m aware of a slight tinnitus for the first time, something I didn’t know I had. Isaiah would have stood on the temple mount and seen what I see. Behind him there might have been torches, the night shift at the temple of God Almighty, but at 2:30 in the morning in 800 BC I can’t imagine too much light coming from the sleeping City of David. And it is arid, like here, little water vapor in the air to obscure these spangles and sparklers. Who knows what sent him from his bed to walk the parapet, and pull his cloak closer against the night, and look up?

Ahhh… coyotes. First one long sweet howl, and now the whole wild crew join in. They have something to say. It sounds so good humored. There were jackals in Isaiah’s Judah: did they talk at night? Did he cock his head and listen to them?

This country frightened me at first. Left Tucson and headed south here to explore the offer of hospitality from Bill Schoder-Ehri and folks here at the Friends Southwest Center, I drove first into drier thornier country than I thought I had seen yet even around Tucson. And cousins Bruce and Mary Sue aside, Tucson mostly impressed me with angry feeling aggressive traffic and otherwise unfriendly people. It felt like a giant truck-stop in the middle of the desert, and a bleak desert it was driving south: pink and beige gravel, thorny black mesquite, prickly pear and barrel and saguaro cactus, wind, dust, cars cars cars. Ridiculous baking hot little half-built subdivisions out in the tumbleweeds with desperate-seeming for sale signs. Driving south into the water mirages on the freeway I wondered what I was getting myself into. Tombstone, for one thing. Another desperate place, faux Old West, and packed with silly people, with the real west old and new scraping out a living off of a spectacularly bloody episode over and done with 100 years ago, where is that at for heaven’s sake.

But then was the miracle of St. David, AZ, suddenly water come to the surface, and heavy irrigation, even standing water, field after field of bright green alfalfa. Little old houses with big green yards, fat ponies snoozing in the shade on small acreages. To a boy from Oregon it was a relief to my eye, and to nerves jittery from desert, sun, weird tourist junk. Finally the Sulphur Springs Valley, and back in desert, but not so spiky as Tucson. Flat valley floor, wiry blond grasses, yucca, dry desert mountains on either side, Hwy 80 straight down to Mexico closing fast. Outside Tombstone I had passed an immigration checkpoint, and it reminded me of the occupied West Bank, and the checkpoints and tensions there. I felt like I was driving into danger into a military zone. I reminded myself where my car docs were, and that I had my valid passport. US passport.

Here is 21 miles from Mexico, and I have been here now a week and a day, and the country does not frighten me now, not so much. I understand better about how mornings and early evenings are the time to be outside and busy, and that it is work to exert yourself much in the heat of the day. The ants like it fine, though. This is great ant country, and when you see their great colonies spread out, cities five feet across you get it that they have roots here too. Ants, and many birds; a yellow breasted one, a rare one with rusty red underneath and a topknot, the magpies, ravens – not crows, ravens – great kite-like vultures, hawks, sparrows, many doves; all talking their own languages.

Every morning when I have sat on the bench outside of the meeting house to drink my coffee I have had the same two visitors: a magpie, who comes to perch in the mesquite and make his little scrap call, and also a jackrabbit who comes to say hello, and shyly nibble the new grass. They are the same two, and they are both curious and like to see what I’m up to. The jackrabbit – she, I think – comes to ten feet or so, looks at me, ambles to another tuft of grass and nibbles, looks at me. She is tan and brown with white points and darker points and lovely big mobile ears and almost black eyes. The magpie is smaller than our Washington state magpies were, with more grey than their stark black and white, but he flies like them and talks like them, and his coloring is the same family. Really; I step outside and they both announce themselves; her quietly, and him with a swoop and a squawk.

I think: this is not a barren place, there are many people here, some on two legs, some on four, (six, eight), some rooted, like the mesquite and yucca. Some are rooted like Eve and Mariah. Eve Rosenberg has lived here at the Friends Southwest Center for fifteen years, and Mariah Irons for seven. They have made gardens for one another in their hearts, but they have made gardens for plants too, outside the neat adobe Eve built herself. Eve has that nice Saxon gap in her teeth, and has a way of looking at you straight and smiling at the same time that makes me trust her. They invite me to dinner and serve me an omelet and kale they grew, and nopalitos, which are prickly pear. They invite me to yoga, and I go, for the first time in my life. They invite me to come tour their community garden, and I go. It is full of plants and trees and hope; set up so anyone – seniors in wheelchairs – can garden, and can sit in the shade by a pond. It’s by the library, and the health clinic. In the middle of nowhere, where we all live.

LIFE IN THE HIGH DESERT

OK, so it takes a year to catch up.

WOW-- things are going well for us at Friends SW Center.
Our community has grown a bit, with new potential sojourners. We have hosted numerous traveling Friends, our houses are in better shape, our trees are getting pruned and several shared gardens are planted and producing. We are in the midst of some creative growth!
What blessings abound.

Here are a couple of photos. One shows the property that is being reclaimed from entropy and is being resurrected as a center for honoring and welcoming involvement with the natural world around us here in the high desert. The second photo is of most of the community at a visioning event for our project.
More details to come!

Windy days

Tis is a blog entry from Bill and Ruthe.

The wind has been dramatic so often here in the last month. We are learning to respect its power.

Despite the winds, we have enjoyed many evenings, sitting outside before and after sunset. We love to commune with friends over a meal or lay and watch the stars. There is plenty of "milk" in the Milky Way here!

We have been through a beautiful period of flowers both here at FSC and traveling around the desert environs. A trip with relatives to the Desert Botanical Gardens in Phoenix was amazing and inspiring.

As transplanted Alaskans we are learning to respect the cycle of each days coolness and heat.
We treasure our established trees and are learning about the times and ways to plant and water appropriately in our yard. We continue to benefit from the local community garden and participate in it's care and it's generous reciprocity. With an eye on the bunnies and jackrabbits that frequent our area, we are going to try to plant some flowers and a few vegetables in a cinder-block tower under the shade of our ash tree. Experimental at best!
The rains will come in about a month and everything in the ground will dance in delight (with muddy feet).

YOU ARE INVITED

If you have a mind to explore the SW, or are interested in retreat or visitng time in our community you are welcome to contact us via e-mail, phone or snail-mail.

Your visit can be a day, a week or months at a time.

email us at friendsswc@gmail.com

telephone contact Bill or Ruthe @ 520-642-0011

mail can be addressed to Friends Southwest Center

8649 N. Lucretia Mott Rd, McNeal AZ 85617

Friendly High Desert Community

Hello to all who find this.
We hope to develop this blog to inform Friends (Quakers) and any like minded folks about the opportunities for a community lifestyle here in the Southeastern corner of Arizona.

Geographically we are about 20 miles form Mexico and 20 miles from New Mexico. The nearest "big" towns are Douglas to the south, Bisbee to the southwest and Sierra Vista to the west.
Also nearby is McNeal (our nearest post office) , Elfrida and Tombstone. Folks tend to fly into Tucson International Airport. The community is about a 90 minute drive from there. Phoenix is about 90 miles again north of Tucson.

Friends Southwest Center
was founded by a group of Quakers in the 1970's.
The founders had a vision of creating a small community of no more than 20 households sharing 60+ acres of land, sharing traditional Quaker values such as simple living, honoring diversity, caring for the earth and striving for social justice.

There are currently 6 active households in the community and room for several more.

We enjoy the surroundings of the high desert valley of Sulfur Springs. This valley is set between several mountain ranges including the Chiricahua, Dragoon, Mule, Perilla, and Huachuca as well as ranges to the south in Mexico.
The larger area is well known among bird lovers as a rare opportunity to see many species of birds throughout the year. The nearby Chirichaua area of Portal (about 80 miles to the NE) is renowned for its spring birding opportunities.

http://outdoors.webshots.com/slideshow/46579213vyLeHy (cut and paste this link for photos)

A mere 2 miles away is the Whitewater Draw Wildlife Refuge which includes a 750 acre wetlands and boasts a large population of Sandhill Cranes in the winter (23,000 in 2006).

The environment is wide and open and we hope that our community will grow mirroring the openness and depth of the beautiful land around us.