Joshua Tree, California looks more like a movie set of Mad Max Fury Road than a destination.
But Spirit sent me. I thought I was to be a vendor at the International UFO Conference, Contact in the Desert, where I’d sell books and perform soul readings, for people whose souls have come from other worlds.
Since that was my experience at the previous UFO conference, in Phoenix, naturally I thought this was the same. But I was wrong to assume what Source had in mind.
I thought I was to be a vendor…
[to] perform soul readings to people
whose souls have come from other worlds
Being off course always means trouble; mine began in a Walmart parking lot.
I was there repacking while the searing sun reflected off the concrete. This after 6-hours of driving since before dawn. My Toyota Rav4 was piled high with recording equipment, cases of books, a month’s worth of clothes, camping gear, food, water and other supplies. I was looking for space, for what I bought at Walmart.
I’d overlooked the part of the contract that said, “vendors supply their own tents for outdoor booths.” So I shelled out $130 for a new pop-up tent, table, and two chairs.
Back at the retreat, I struggled to erect the pop-up. I found a rock to pound in stakes I’d pilfered from my camping supplies. Then tied the supports to the festival’s tent poles.
As I stared blankly at my work, the wind bucked the booth wildly, but my exhaustion was too hard to fight. I put the two chairs and table under the canopy; said a prayer, and called it a day.
I hoped things would get easier,
but they got worse, much worse.
The drive to my Airbnb spot zig zagged through the remote, back roads of Joshua Tree National Park. The temperatures soared to 105 degrees.
I hoped things would get easier, but they got worse, much worse. There was no air conditioning in my room. And that’s not the worst of it.
I haven’t mentioned how badly I needed this to go well. The tour was very expensive; my bills at home were mounting. I was, therefore, pinning my hopes on the next few days. But desperation turned to despair. What happened next dashed all chances to be flush.
Before I could earn a dime, the retreat’s security had already put my stand in the dumpster. I arrived the next morning to the news a small tornado had swirled its way to booth 42 and destroyed it.
Those who witnessed the sight said the tent’s supports snapped, and the twister tore it from its stays. My little gazebo was hurled into the air and landed in an unsalvageable heap.
I never found the table and two chairs.
I wondered angrily to myself,
why did Spirit bring me here? For this?
All I could think of was the money I was out.
Why was my shop the only one hit?
At a party the following night, I got my answer.
There was a line to attend a famous radio host’s birthday party. I was feeling vulnerable and looked for solitude in the crowd. So I went to the back of the long line, which serpentined into the vendor booth area.
I started to feel better. Maybe even a little hope was creeping back in.
When I turned to see behind me, a bath of golden-pink light appeared around a white tent. God said, “Go bless that booth over there.”
Native American artists, Stormy and her younger brother Crying Bear, were beading beautiful objects inside. I glanced up to see a white-leather dream-catcher, with a rainbow crystal in the center. It shimmered. I noticed the blue wing-feathers hanging from its web and gave Crying Bear the only cash I had.
I clutched my treasure and exited the tent. Just then a tall, tan, bald man glided past me, away from the party. He stopped and turned toward me.
Somehow we began talking. His name was Jirka Rysavy, the founder of Gaia, (formerly Gaiam TV) network. My knees buckled and I lost ground. In a nervous fit I made an embarrassing first impression. But I knew what was happening. Spirit orchestrated the perfect timing, the right place at the right time, on my behalf. I promised Source I’d see it through.
The following tour plan included three Source Talks in California. Then a drive to Boulder, Gaia’s corporate office, before going on to the southern tip of Florida, where I’d set off for two talks on a Spirit cruise.
I met with Gaia in Boulder, Colorado.
After my meeting, I was made an official, Gaia Ambassador. I promised my manager I’d bring every seeker I could find to Gaia’s platform, then I vowed to find a way to bring my own work to their burgeoning network.
My tour to Joshua Tree’s wasteland was grueling and difficult, but the blessings were enough to keep going. In that faith I received a token, a gesture to remind me to continue hunting in purpose.
Purpose doesn’t come in the things we receive, but in the boundaries we cross to receive them. In this case, I crossed a desert, and that desert revealed her jewel in Gaia.
As an official Ambassador for Gaia, here’s the jewel you’ll get from me. Become a member of Gaia from my link, and I will give you over $100 worth of my Source Talks, in MP3 audio format, FREE.