Gordon Wells RV Park is located in the desert near the Imperial Sand Dunes near Interstate 8 in southeastern California. I think I stayed there for over four months. I loved that Park’s hosts Dee, Russell, and Thomas. I have the most amazing luck when it comes to meeting awesome folks. I need to mention my park mate Greg who stayed at the park for several months because he was a contractor working on the road nearby.  I mention him because, it isn’t a good idea to venture out into the dunes alone. There are too many unexpected events that could occur; a crash, heat exhaustion, and or death. When I wasn’t riding with Greg, I would alert Thomas or Russell that I was leaving the park to play. When alone, I would either stay near Test Hill or the front of Buttercup, which is the opposite side of interstate 8 both are easy to get to in need of emergency.

     I loved that the Test Hill area was pretty calm compared to Glamis. You can easily access Glamis from Gordon Wells with a trip down “sand highway” or you could traverse the many dune and valleys.
  
   On major holiday weekends, Glamis is absolutely bonkers with the number of cars, trucks, and buggies. The most amazing and expensive vehicles descend on the area to showoff. One day and one night trip to Glamis is something to experience, “TOTAL CRAZINESS!!!!!”. I was fortunate to experience all the major holidays without incident.

​  On my expedition east, I stopped at the Lewis and Clark State Park in Onawa, Iowa. While there, I learned that I was heading in the opposite direction of Lewis and Clark.  On August 10, 1804 the two men along with twenty-four others aboard a 55-foot keelboat, winded their way up the Missouri River from St Louis to Iowa. The boat landed on the shore of the Blue Lake, which is now the location of the park. 

​  The park features a full size replica of the 55-foot keelboat docked at the information center. 

    I spent time exploring the beautiful acres of the park.  Similar to Lewis and Clark, who were commissioned by President Jefferson to explore the northwest due to the recent procurement of the land from France (Louisiana Purchase). As I learn more about the history of the world, it creates  more questions.

Resource, money, and war.... Very interesting.

 One of the featured treasures, is the two-headed goat. 

 The "Black History" display is not on the map but, is located on a corner near the motorcycles. It's a small glass case. Keep in mind, most of the memorabilia is donated. 

 This place has so many awesome displays, including full size businesses, like an actual Dentist Office, Beauty Parlor, Post Office, Gas Station, Telephone Switch Board Office, etc. Below are just a few of the pictures. 

    I knew at some point that I would write this but, I didn’t know exactly when. Acknowledging that I am of sound body and mind is the first concept that must be grasped by the reader of this passage.
 
   Contemplating various ideals is merely a limitation of time and comprehension, which lately I have had plenty of both. It’s interesting or somewhat symbolic that I found many conclusions in the desert. The long seemingly endless nights were filled with the warmth of a campfire, the heavens bright with stars, the Milky Way, crossing Satellites, and the occasional falling star. Sunsets that start at four-thirty pm and sunrises at seven am left hours of available meditation. Per the bible, Jesus, left his home as carpenter, spent forty days in the desert, while there he was tempted by the devil, and returned home a messiah. Followers believe that the isolation provided Jesus something more than a "moment of clarity". For me, I experienced only a moment of clarity.
 
   “A Journey?”, I heard someone mention that it’s called, “A Journey” because you cannot know what you will discover on the journey, or what you discover will do to you. I began calling this part of my life a journey after the passing of my sister. I, like many, experienced a paradigm shift, as I witnessed the courage and strength she showed when met with the inescapable. I couldn’t imagine then, as I can now, how it must have felt at night laying in a strange room pondering how she lived her life encompassed by the fear death. We seem to always fear what is unknown or what we do not understand. 
 
   I have come to appreciate that for the larger part of my life I was merely a witness. Sure, there were times in my life that I experienced the grip of the oppressive social system with its injustices being committed against black men or what was "romantically" called at one time, “the negro problem”. One experience in particular could have changed my life completely. At the age of seventeen, my mother saved me from a criminal record because of a fistfight with another student. It wasn’t the other parents that wanted to press charges; it was the school. Lucky for me, my mother was able to leave work midday, and arrive at the school before they could take me to the Police Station. Later, I found out that this process is called the, “School to prison pipeline”.  
      
       Other experiences were harassment by Officers of the Law for no obvious reason, or simply being told, “you don’t belong around here”. I was aware of and witnessed much more sinister acts of crimes against being black. I knew for a fact my experiences were normal and something I understood would not change in my life time.
 
  The paradox of education is precisely this – that as one begins to become conscious, one begins to examine the society in which one is being educated. Within this examination of society, one must also intellectualize the creation of definitions. How does one begin to understand and except given meanings that are provided as societal norms?  For example, Society has tirelessly worked to force humanity to work endlessly for the sake of greed. This unquenchable thirst, is supported by a commitment to any religion. The premise of any religion contradicts the meaning of faith or trust in that it does not carry the openness required to address the Unknown.  
 
   The Unknown is not the most frightening aspect of life; it is actually our sense of reality. The concept of “living the dream” in itself perpetuates a false ideal and ensures difficulty in distinguishing fantasy from reality. It is plausible to theorize that the act of life/living is equivalent to the use of narcotics, i.e. addiction of wanting more than what we actually need. It can also be theorized that humanity is trapped between what we are and what we would like to be, which could be the very reason so many of us seem to lead such empty lives.
 
   Insanity is to behave like someone that you are not with normality being the capacity to express your unique feelings. However, this idea of “being your unique self” holds the most inherent dangers.  "Acceptance is the evil". What seems to be more apparent is that we all act like someone else, for the most part, to be accepted. This makes being unique an inherent danger - teasing - bullying - blackballing and the list goes on. This evil persists in the repetition of our destinies and patterns of life. Humanity is slow to change/evolve as a majority.
 
    Knowing that humanity or society is based on one idea, “desire”, I really thought that I would find something desirable. All that I knew was, I wanted something different. Not truly unconventional, but absolutely new to me, I embarked on a journey moving from a four-bedroom house to a forty-foot RV (recreational vehicle). In traveling across the country twice, I was unable to find that “something”. For the past year, it seems like I have been walking this earth on life support as if a vital organ, my brain is slowly committing intellectual suicide.
 
In the end: 
   I believe that when I die, I will have no memory of self because self is just my consciousness. In death, I will have forgotten who I was, just like it is impossible for me to recall the moment I was born. I see myself as an individual that is no more than a temporary stranger to this world, where most times I hardly belong. 
 
I have found my peace and have no fear of the Unknown.

JUST ONE LAST THING.
 
   Almost every aspect of civilization starts to insult the idea of intelligence or reason. I wrote a blog, “Theory of Existence” which speaks about the energy. I touched on individual energy, how it is always constant and endlessly competing for control.  Authority understands this energy, grabs hold by the use of force and disseminates the illusion of freedom. Free is only an idea and not a factual state of being, because your birth (energy) is now your debt to society.
 
 The land of the free and the brave, I think its just the latter. Social engineering is the controller of your energy. Nothing is impossible only improbable. Everything that you want can be yours, if you perform within the parameters of the control.
My energy to perform under control was far from flawless.
But everything that I wanted, I was able to attain.
Each want or desire checked off from a list that we coined, "bucket list" as I awkwardly navigated the many parameters of control.
 
COMPLETE
 
Fear was at first limiting but quickly became just a worthy adversary, and at most times more of a protagonist than antagonist
All the material things I chased, guarded, and treasured will be left in the hands of others to care for or to discard. Brokered relationships forged of time by love, hate, trial, and error will cease to exist.

  The deep and towering mysteries about life and death that so consumed my mind will finally be clarified in a way that they could never be before.

   I tried not to let my life be stolen by all that I have been led to believe matters, the fact is that much of it simply won’t, and it didn’t.
 
   On the day I die, the few people who really know and truly love me will grieve deeply.

Maybe there will be a void.
Maybe they will feel it was too soon
Maybe they want more time with me.
 
   I know for a fact that I fulfilled the gift of energy created by my parents.
Yes, I mattered, not because I thought I was important, or because others had to tell me that I was, not because of success, monetary value, appearance, performance, or productivity.

 It was because if we met.. We danced, played, talked, laughed, cried, learned, grew, fought, etc…

MOST OF ALL  BECAUSE OF LOVE!!!

     I loved living so close to the Mexican border. Just about every Tuesday, I would venture into Algodones, Mexico. You can either drive or walk across the border. There is a parking lot that everyone uses located at the border, which is the easiest way to start your adventure. Once you cross the border into Algodones, you will experience the overwhelming number of pharmacies and medical offices. Most of the Sunbirds travel here to take care of their medical needs, especially dental. The price for dental work is absolutely a bargain, and I noticed that some of the offices honor some US insurance companies.

 Just about everyone speaks English, so you won't have a problem finding whatever you require. There is plenty of shopping, alcohol, souvenirs, pottery, apparel, or glassware available from the many stores and street vendors. If you don't see something you want, just ask; there is always a guy that knows a guy.  Take cash when dealing with the vendors, and all prices are in dollars, not pesos. I suggest you start bartering/bargaining at half of the asking price. 
 
  My favorite restaurant is a small street taco stand. It’s featured in the video above. I love those guys and the food is awesome. You can literally fill up on tacos for under five dollars. Another fun spot in the afternoon is El Paraiso (The Garden Place).

​   For nighttime, adult entertainment, head over to either the Hawaii or Green Door. Let me know what you think in the comments if you visit. I had a great time and learned a little Spanish. You can't beat the price of a bucket of beer. 
 
  Tons of fun in Algodones!!!!

​   As I trek within the country, I find myself trying to unravel humanity from the many diverse viewpoints. Although I will never truly grasp why we act as we do, because of my own biases, I can’t help but wonder. My visit to South Dakota caused me to examine its gory past, but also the underlying emotional affect.
 
   Above is the picture I took from the street. Again, I decided not to pay to enter the park for my own reasons (I’m finding out a lot about myself). I actually talked to a few people that said it wasn’t worth the money because you are unable to get close to the monument due to the construction.
 

   Crazy Horse is a monument under construction a few miles from Mt Rushmore. Henry Standing Bear, an Oglala Lakota Chief and founding member of the Society of American Indians, recruited Polish-American sculptor Korczak Ziolkowski to build the Crazy Horse Memorial. There are a few things about this monument that sparked my curiosity:
 
1) Korczak Ziolkowski, a noted New England sculptor, first came to the Black Hills to help Gutzon Borglum on Mount Rushmore. As you know, Gutzon is known to be a racist.

2) Henry Standing Bear: I contemplate why would a Native agreed or even wanted someone to desecrate sacred land. Also, if it is true the things that I read about Crazy Horse, he would have not approved of this sculpture and more importantly, defacing the land.
​
3) The sculpture is on private land not owned by the state or the Lakota. The monument is fully funded by donations without government assistance, and is said to have upwards of a million visitors per year.
 
 I read that Crazy Horse was known to be shy and humble. He was loved by his people for his generosity to the underprivileged, the elderly, and children. He was a skillful leader and warrior and was respected by both his tribe and his enemies. He is best known for his fight against the intrusion of white American settlers to preserve the traditional way of life of his people.  There is an overwhelming amount of books depicting his life, other Natives, and their experiences both before and after the settlers invaded the Black Hills.

 Its amazing how much information is available.

    Rapid City is called the "City of the Presidents" because it displays a series of life-sized president statues on several blocks downtown. It's also known as the gateway to Mt. Rushmore because of its proximity to the mountain.
​

      General Custer surveyed the area around the mountain, which included Rapid City. When he reported that his men had discovered gold, tons of white people descended on the area, illegally killing and stealing the land from the Lakota Sioux. To this day, the Sioux are fighting for their land. The Supreme Court offered money but the Sioux declined. IMO, with the amount of money generated by tourism, I doubt the land will be returned to the Sioux. 

  There is a small library in town that has a ton of books written by the various tribes. I was fortunate to speak with a Lakota who shared with me his stories from his living elders. To hear him speak of what happened…. No words or surprise were invoked.
 
    Rapid City also has a hidden gem in the middle of the city, an alley filled with art. The walls of the buildings are covered with works of unique art that express personal, political, community, and global issues.

    While I was there, an artist was working on a piece concerning poverty. I was told that the alley changes frequently and has become a sacred place for many artists. My pictures do not capture the true essence of such a wonderful place.

   While downtown, I came across this cool brewery called, "The Firehouse”. It is one of Rapid City’s most unique and interesting landmarks. The structure was built in 1915 and displays authentic South Dakota firefighting memorabilia from the days of Rapid City’s first fire brigades – including the original fire pole, ladders, patches and more.

   You are probably wondering why I called Mount Rushmore, "Six Grandfathers"? It's because the mountain on which the presidents are carved is sacred land to the Lakota Sioux. The mountain was named by Black Elk, a Lakota medicine man who had a spiritual vision. The vision was of the six sacred directions: west, east, north, south, above, and below. The directions were said to represent kindness and love, full of years and wisdom, like human grandfathers. The carving of the presidents’ faces on the mountain is an insult to many native tribes.  

  You may or may not know that Mount Rushmore and Georgia's Stone Mountain - share a common past: Both are built on land seized illegally from Indigenous peoples, and both were desecrated by the same racist artist: Gutzon Borglum. The state historian of South Dakota, Doane Robinson, saw an opportunity to create a tourist attraction to generate revenue from the tourists already visiting Yellowstone Park.

   I could not bring myself to pay the admission fee to get a closer look at Mt Rushmore, so I stopped on the side of the road to take a picture. There is so much more disheartening information available about how many Native lives were lost and how many Natives experience the effects of these past transgressions today.
 
     The US government has a long history of violating treaties with Indigenous populations. The Black Hills are unique because the Supreme Court actually agreed that the land was taken illegally in United States v. Sioux Nation of Indians. “The Court ruled in 1980 that the US owed the Sioux Nation the 1877 price for the land, along with 100 years of interest. The Sioux rejected the cash settlement because they still want the land back.”  Sure the Government can make up a price for the land, but they did not account for the many lives lost. It was noted that when General Custer surveyed the Black Hills, he reported that his men had discovered gold, and white people came running. At that time, President Grant secretly ordered the army NOT to protect the Native residents. I also read different articles with disturbing information about bounty hunters being paid to kill Natives.

   I spent most of my days there researching and exploring Rapid City.  There is so much history on this area including the “Wounded Knee Massacre of 1890.

   Some mornings, after a walk with Neo, I would take the UTV up into the mountains. I spotted a few Elk, but was unable to get a picture. There were so many trails, lakes, peaks, etc to explore. Riding Spearfish Canyon on a bike was both tough and beautiful. I could have spent a month there taking it all in.. 

 

​    I took a solo ride to an overlook with the view of a man-made canal. There was a light breeze at the top of the hill with a clear view of the setting sun. I sat motionless as my mind started to drift with the movement of the sand. I began counting each breath as the sun slowly caressed the edge of the earth. The thoughts of an unexpectedly kiss entered my thoughts. The kind of kiss that love would day-dream about. A kiss that is nervous and also patient. Defenseless but filled with unapologetic trust. That feeling of leaning off the edge of a cliff without restraint, knowing the cruel veracity of certain death. Avoiding the consequence by the strength of her touch. Reaching out with both hands, one to the small of her back, and the other to where I know her face will find it. Instinctively our noses touch gently making way for our lips. Our lips collapse together as we both inhale in anticipation. Her hands, one gently lays on my chest the other grasping the elbow of the arm attached to the hand pulling in the small of her back.  All the air between us collapsed. Her lips moist and soft like the morning dew that rolls off the peddles of a flower. Our lips mimic the playful rhythmic movements of the wind and the sand. Teasing was an appetizer to the main course of exploration. The vast expanse of textures between us was meticulously discovered by our tongues which happened effortlessly. The kiss knew how to end without question just like the sunset.