The Alchemist
I loved the book “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho; I devoured that book in an entire day and wrote notes throughout it where I sent it to someone for them to read and pass on the knowledge. Without giving it away, the book follows the story of a shepherd boy who has visions he’ll find his treasure at the pyramids of Egypt. The boy travels to find his treasure in which he loses everything, falls in love with a woman, and meets The Alchemist along the way. Throughout the last few months, I thought that I was Santiago, the shepherd boy looking for love and treasure, but instead I’ve realized that I was The Alchemist the whole time.
I wasn’t so much on a passive journey where “the universe was going to conspire to help me achieve it,” like Santiago was, making sacrifices and pushing through adversity. No, I was The Alchemist, turning lead into gold… hardships into triumphs… heart break into purpose… grief into courage. I was performing magic within myself, transmutation of basic human feelings of anger, sorrow, and pain into something complex and beautiful like self-love, self-sufficiency, and worthiness.
I had packed what had remained of my life in California into my truck and a single Uhaul trailer. It was 110 degrees that day, but I drove to the various places in Cal City, Tehachapi, and Lancaster; I poured sweat the entire time, but I was determined to get it all done in a day. As I laid in bed the next morning, I felt oddly at ease with everything despite this being a huge undertaking. I hadn’t pulled a trailer any farther than Cal City to Camarillo, but here I was about to pull a fully loaded one 1,600+ miles away where nobody would be there to help me unload or troubleshoot. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my whole life.
The morning of July 4th (which was appropriate that I did this on independence day) I woke up, said goodbye to my parents and my puppies (I’ll be picking them up next month to move them here) and set sail. I stopped and got gas in Boron, where I ran into one of my old Search and Rescue partners, Tex. I hadn’t seen Tex in well over a year, after this whole pandemic thing happened and I left Kern County Sheriff SAR to join Ventura County SAR. Tex (as his name implies) is a sweet old man with the thickest Texas accent around. He’s been doing SAR for longer than my parents were alive, and he runs his own little farm out in Boron. I took it as a great sign that I ran into him and felt immense relief.
I drove through Victorville, passed the signs to Lake Arrowhead and Silverwood Lake where just a year before I was having the best times of my life. I gripped the steering wheel tightly as I hauled the pregnant trailer through the traffic of Redlands and Palm Springs until I was certain that the load would be alright. There was no turning back. There was no life left for me back there. I was going to turn this terrifying experience into an adventure and an opportunity for immense growth.
I hadn’t planned my trip to Houston out at all. I had only a vague idea of where I was going, where I would stop, and where I would sleep. As I had lived and worked in Las Cruces before, I was familiar only with the area from California to El Paso. This type of thinking would have crippled the old me… not having a plan at all… but over the years I have found that even the best laid plans fail and I’d get even more anxious if I had one and it did.
My first day I made it to Phoenix where I ran into my old high school friend, Jessica, where we reminisced about life as fireworks lit up the hot night air. As I sat on her couch, and met her family, I felt relaxed and content… as much as I did when I was hanging out with my friends in Baja. There was peace to it.
The next day I made my way to Las Cruces, where I stopped in to say hi to an old acquaintances. Las Cruces has, and always will, have a special place in my heart. I drew great strength in the familiarity of the roads and places I’d go. It had been almost two years since I was there last, and I felt it was fitting to make a stop where I first learned that I could stand on my own all those years ago living in an RV.
The drive from Las Cruces to Houston was emotional for a variety of reasons (some I don’t wish to get into) but mostly because I was exhausted, greasy from not showering, and running out of clothes to wear. I had been eating mostly gas station food, save for some meals I was able to get in Phoenix, Tucson, and Las Cruces. I was in unfamiliar territory and this whole area of Texas is boring as hell (although you get into some very beautiful hills near Ozona, TX). Mentally, I was cracking a bit.
As I was an hour and a half away from Houston, exhaustion had started to set in. Running off three hours of sleep and several Red Bulls, my body was trying to give up. I hadn’t been going at it for the past three days of travel… I had been going at it since February 3rd when my whole life had crumbled in front of me. My body, my mind, and my spirit were out of gas from the marathon we had been running for so long.
It had been raining off and on since Ozona, which I have come to find out is typical of East Texas. Through the sun parting clouds, this enormous rainbow began to form in front of me.
I found that I had turned my music off somewhere past San Antonio. I was just sitting in my truck in absolute silence. Throughout that silence, the lines of a song that had been stuck in my head for weeks, Kacey Musgraves “Rainbow,” kept repeating in my head, triggered by this growing rainbow I saw before me.
When it rains, it pours
But you didn't even notice it ain't rainin' anymore
It's hard to breathe when all you know is
The struggle of stayin' above the risin' water line
Well the sky has finally opened
The rain and wind stopped blowin'
But you're stuck out in the same ol' storm again
You hold tight to your umbrella
Well, darlin', I'm just tryin' to tell ya
That there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head
If you could see what I see, you'd be blinded by the colors
Yellow, red, and orange, and green, and at least a million others
So tie up the boat, take off your coat, and take a look around
'Cause the sky has finally opened
The rain and wind stopped blowin'
But you're stuck out in the same ol' storm again
You hold tight to your umbrella
Well, darlin', I'm just tryin' to tell ya
That there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head
Oh, tie up the boat, take off your coat, and take a look around
Everything is alright now
'Cause the sky has finally opened
The rain and wind stopped blowin'
But you're stuck out in the same ol' storm again
Let go of your umbrella
'Cause, darlin', I'm just trying to tell ya
That there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head
Yeah, there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head
It'll all be alright
In over three decades of my life, I had never seen a rainbow that went from end to end, yet here I was watching one slowly grow across the sky the closer I got to my final destination. The highway seemed to go straight under it. Something immensely euphoric came over me, and I couldn’t explain the amount and intensity of emotions I felt all at once… like a shot of moonshine and syrup… it was bitter and sweet and savory all the same time. Much like the bourbons I’ve become a connoisseur of, there was so much complexity and flavor to this feeling… so many notes I could detect but nothing that overpowered the other with the exception of just the enormity of feeling it all at once. I cried so hard that I almost had to pull over on the side of the road.
I have always been blessed… Problems are the greatest gifts of our lives. So long as I have problems, I am still alive. So long as I have problems, I have opportunity to change.
At 10:00 that night I finally pulled into my house. I had zero idea of what it would look like, as I only saw pictures of it online, but that didn’t matter BECAUSE IT WAS MINE. After 33 years of my life, I’ve never had something that was MINE. And it was all me… everything inside this house is me… financed by me, put together by me, chosen by me. I unpacked EVERYTHING that night, despite being exhausted, and I woke up the next day stronger than I have ever been. Confident that I am a fucking bad ass…
Like a true Alchemist, I’m turning this blank slate into a home.
