Je Ne Regrette Rien
The only words you need to know in French…. and other lessons from the desert
The 4 am sky is magnificent. I only have to remain still to see shooting stars and to hear the living things. Although the moon so full just a few nights earlier is on the wane, it is still brightly magnificent. I see planets all lit up like nature’s disco.
I keep returning to the desert because I find my people here. I met a geoscientist who makes his own watercolor paint by hand on a palette of reclaimed hardwood. Although I’m adept with colored pencils and pastels, I’m a bit terrified of learning to paint, but I’m finding the courage to take classes. I have his Joshua Tree color palette, and I’m going to attempt to paint what I saw at Cap Rock yesterday.
At 6 pm every night in Joshua Tree National Park, a ranger meets whoever shows up at Cap Rock, which is near Keys View — the place people from all over the world gather to watch the sunset. Our guide took us on a short hike, and we learned about the various plants and rocks found in the park.
I grabbed the nearest sciencey looking fellow and said, ‘Please tell me why I shouldn’t be terrified that the giant boulder on Cap Rock that looks suspended in air isn’t going to crash into me when the earth shakes.’
He said something something about physics, but to be on the safe side, I kept a healthy distance and gave myself a running start should plates collide.
I learned the tallest Joshua Tree in the park is 43 feet, which makes it roughly 940 years old. I also learned that long before Mormon explorers gave the yucca palm its name, Native American tribes had its own names. The Southern Paiute called the Joshua Tree sovarampi. Cahuilla Indians referred to it as humwichawa and the Western Shoshone knew it simply as umpu. All revered it for its spiritual essence, and spiky daggers.
I am tempted to try to paint the tallest humwichawa, but may start with a baby cholla. Inspired by our friend in Jamaica, writer Audrey Peterman, I am committed to missing fewer sunrises, so I have been getting up in time to catch them from iconic places. The Cholla Garden is one such spot.
When I started becoming a sunrise connoisseur, I discovered there is a precise moment as the glowing orb rises where birds start singing all at once in chorus. So needless to say, when that moment came in the Cholla Garden, there always seems to be at least once asshole with a drone — which are not allowed in the park. Rather than go up to him and say, ‘Hey asshole…’ I surrendered.
Acceptance is the answer to all my problems today, and I carried on.
I have made many friends since I keep returning to the desert to wash my spirit clean.
Artists migrate here, and my favorite coffee spot, Joshua Tree Coffee, has a Sunday art fair outside its door, hosted by Sky High Pie, an adjacent pizzeria.
That’s where I saw the sign, ‘Speak Softly and Wear A Big Ring’ — it was love at first skull. Designer Christina Bjenning of Esmerelda Designs makes rings featuring stars, and hearts, and snakes, dainty skulls, and ravens — crafted with silver and various metals from recycled cellphones and computers.
Because it’s the desert, people give you gifts, and she gifted me a star ring — having sized me up as a stargazer. Just yesterday, Becky Lee from Time Echo Vintage gave me Clash and Buzzcocks buttons, having sized me up as an old punk lol.
Well needless to say, I cherish these acts of kindness so when my star ring went missing after a starry starry night hike, I called Christina to tell her about my dilemma and offered to buy a replacement ring.
In between feeding her horses and four greyhounds, she offered to meet me in town.
The deal was going down in a Home Depot parking lot. Because she’s a local, she knew where to find the prime shady real estate.
Shade in the desert is always at a premium and there were just enough skimpy little trees to cast a shadow over the left side of her truck where the goods were.
She explained the desert takes things away from you to deliver something even more amazing.
I was a wee bit tragic because I was leaving the desert that day, and I hadn’t yet seen a roadrunner. Every time I come to Joshua Tree I see a roadrunner — and as soon as I arrived in the parking lot, and began talking to Christina, along comes a dashing roadrunner, right at my feet.
Voila!
The desert just has a way.
‘You manifested the roadrunner,’ she said.
I agreed, telling her about the wild birds that love bombed me out of corporate news.
We bonded over fashion — she immediately recognized my pink Old Gringo Leopardita boots that I had refurbished in Tucson, and I took notes of her cowboy boots and cacti yoga pants pairing, a marvel.
So with another dainty star ring on my finger, I decided I couldn’t live without her raven skull ring, which can now be found on my left pointer finger.
Although Swedish, Christina speaks like a Frenchwoman — she studied multiple languages.
I tell her all I watch are French films, but I don’t speak the language — I only know three words — fatigué and agent secret.
She said, ‘The only words you need to know in French are Je ne regrette rien — I have no regrets.’
‘That’s an Edith Piaf song!’ I said. ‘I love that song.’
She said, ‘Yes, and that’s it — Je ne regrette rien.’
Sunrise Breaker
As I’ve been writing this desert reflection, I have watched the night sky begin showing off it’s color palette, as pinks and reds started to appear on the horizon. I am six minutes away from experiencing my next sunrise.
I have been rehearsing saying Je ne regrette rien with a French accent.
Try it with me:
I thanked Christina for taking the time to meet with me. I looked at the raven on my finger, leading the way, and told her how much I love it.
She said, ‘Go forth and be fierce.’
I think I will.
****
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