– Part Two –

ISOLATION

COVID-19 led to a shutdown across the world in March of 2020 for several months. There are millions of stories about how it affected everyone, so aspects of my situation may sound familiar. Despite this, I’d like to think I found myself in a unique scenario.

I was asked to housesit for a friend and their partner about an hour away from where I lived right before the shutdown happened. Originally, they were going to be gone for about a month or two; several states away to visit family. But when everything closed, and I was laid off from my retail job, it was assumed that their trip had been cancelled. However, due to a family emergency, their trip was back on in April.

I ended up staying for nearly half a year, alone in a house that was not my normal habitat.

Like the rest of the world, I was sheltered in place. But I wasn’t with any family or friends: I was completely isolated. For many people, a situation like mine would have driven them crazy.

Not for me.

It was exactly what I needed and wanted after fifteen years of working in retail and commuting long drives for most of the duration. There had hardly been any time for me, except on the road.

But now I was finally still. There was no one who was going to call that I had to answer. No one to enter my room and interrupt any thoughts in my mind. And since I wasn’t even at my actual home, most people didn’t know where I was anymore.

MELLOW OUT

The abruptness of the pandemic created some anxiety in the beginning. There was so much that was unknown, both about the virus and my life beyond it. I was left alone to my thoughts; the good and the bad. It was enlightening to finally think at my own pace again, but it was also a haunting experience for a while. My life at that point had taken a downward spiral that was reaching a dangerous end. It took the world to completely stop for my train to finally change tracks and enter a new station.

One of the first things I did during this time was donate to the nearby Living Desert Zoo. Such animal sanctuaries were unfortunately closed, along with most places. I always loved going to that little zoo, so the idea of donating to help feed and care for their animals during this time was vital. It felt good to help. While my donation wasn’t large, they allowed me to symbolically “adopt” one of their animals: a mountain lion. I previously had fun memories seeing one, so it felt fitting. The zoo provided a certificate with a small plush, who became my “pandemic pal.”

Music eased my mind the most during the anxiety of this period, especially in the evenings. Robyn Miller’s soundtrack for the classic game ‘Riven: The Sequel to Myst’ was on high rotation for its mesmerizing synthetic atmospheres. It had been an inspiring composition for years that always put me in a calm or creative mood.

However, during this time I stumbled upon another album that spoke to me in a new and special way: ‘Dreamstate’ by Bill Brown. Reading about its creation, it’s no wonder why:

“At the beginning of making this album, this initial idea about dreams came to me. The way dreams are about emotion, and how they are a way for our minds to explore feelings, and how we make dreams come true with emotion and feelings as well. I wondered if I could create an entire album that ‘felt’ like that dream state. […] Creating the music had this calming, healing effect, and I started to wonder if it might have the same effect on the audience of the music later.” – Bill Brown

I can attest that the ‘Dreamstate’ album achieved its goal of exploring my mind, cracking it open like a fissure with dreams and emotions that finally escaped. If listened in a quiet, dark environment, one can have a Zen-like experience. It’s incredibly underrated, and I hope everyone can experience the same magic it had projected onto me.

Apart from being reflective on my life, I spent most of this newfound time delving back into fandom-related projects or reworking my long-gestating novel. It was time well spent, but it wasn’t quite solving this empty feeling I still had after so many years. It all just seemed like a distraction from what I really needed. Passionate projects and art were all strands of my DNA sequence, but they didn’t constitute my entire heart. There were gaps that needed to be filled.

SWIMMING WITH GHOSTS OF THE PAST

Isolation would sometimes make me feel paranoid. The area was prone to windy days and nights, often rattling the world around me. It would often feel eerie. One morning, I saw that a large outdoor seat got moved in the backyard at some point. Worried, I went to check the house’s surveillance system to make sure someone hadn’t done it. The footage revealed the seat suddenly moving in a fast, ghost-like way on its own. It had clearly been caused by the tumultuous wind. Still, it was creepy.

Backyard ghost or not, it also contained one of the house’s best features that I wasn’t used to having at my disposal: a private swimming pool. Given how hot the summers were in my desert locale, it was a refreshing escape. It was also a fantastic way to get exercise that I wasn’t used to.

I would be swimming for at least a couple hours at a time, frequently doing laps but also taking breaks to enjoy the tranquility. The waterline would be up to my shoulders as I looked up at the sky. The blue canvas in the air was only tainted by milky white clouds and the occasional distant airplanes. The condensation trails that the planes left behind drew towards the airport, directly below Mount San Jacinto.

This prominent mountain loomed over the desert, clearly visible from my vantage point in the pool. Mount San Jacinto featured several small communities, including Idyllwild: the destination for several of my old Boy Scout camping trips. Staring at the mountain for a while dredged up some of those memories, and it revealed just how much I had missed exploring forests of pines. I had been trapped in the desert for so long that I didn’t really know anything else. I was only familiar with cactus and Joshua trees, but I realized I had been missing them as well. I would see them every day but would never explore the world they inhabited.

The mountain was also the host of a popular attraction: The Palm Springs Aerial Tramway. It took tourists from the desert floor all the way to the forestry mountaintop. The ride only lasted about fifteen minutes, via a large tramcar that slowly rotated as it traveled. Visitors would get amazing views of the desert valley below them as they made their ascent. Once they reached the top, they would be able to dine, shop, or go hiking in the vast wilderness. I had gone up there infrequently over the years but had always wanted to explore it further. There was just never the right time.

Mount San Jacinto taunted me as I rested in the pool: the tramway up to it was closed, thanks to the pandemic.

HIKING IN THE INNER OUTDOORS

When I would later retreat inside the house, playing “Dreamstate” as I entered my own dreams, I would sometimes reflect on my previous experiences at the mountain. Disappearing into my mind, I would be swept away from the house and the desert, transported back into the forest. The music swirled like wind, encapsulating me with its notes and rhythms, as I walked among the pines of my mind. There may not have been a feasible way for me to go up the mountain at that moment, but I was able to create its serenity within myself.

This was the missing piece of myself I had been yearning for.

I don’t believe I would have realized it without this unique pandemic situation and yesteryear’s Boy Scout camping trips: my desire for nature was what I needed all along.

I wanted to be more physically or mentally part of it all this time. It didn’t even have to be a forest; it could have been anywhere. Just the chance to have a frequent escape from all the ringing cellphones, all the hard pavement, all the roaring cars, all the murmurs from people, and all the things that supposedly mattered to everyone.

I needed space away from the world we created to be in the world that created us.

Months went by, and as everything slowly opened back up, so did my mind. The time I had spent at that house was an experience that needed to happen, a sort of rehabilitation. I look back on it now as one of the most positive experiences of my life, during an era that was otherwise clouded with darkness around me. I had been tucked away from everything, feeling at home for the first time. A lot was learned during the months of isolation, but once I left, I knew there was more of the world that I needed to see immediately.

And so, I did.

MAKING UP FOR LOST TIME

I explored the desert landscape of the nearby Joshua Tree National Park, seeking the twisted-looking trees of its namesake and the giant boulders that formed into great mountains.

The Black Rock Canyon section of the park provided even more accessible areas to take in its beauty.

The nearby Big Morongo Canyon Preserve was also a nice reprieve with its wooden pathways and overarching trees that provided much-needed shade.

I would sometimes see their deer inhabitants and other wildlife in these regions.

For my 35th birthday I decided to take the 9-mile round trip hike on their Canyon Trail, alone. The second half of it was all uphill, killing my legs as I moved like a slug until I reached the end. I had a walking stick, but it clearly wasn’t enough. I wasn’t used to such an intense excursion, but I completed it: the longest hike I had ever been on.

Last year, the preserve was the location of a short film I created to promote something I had consulted on: ‘Jurassic Park: The Official Script Book.’ I had quite a fun time filming ‘An Isla Nublar Adventure’ at some of my favorite locations, although I could barely walk for a while after I was done. I needed multiple takes of running over and over again. Lesson learned: do some stretches and exercises before filming anything on-location.

I also finally returned to the forests of Mount San Jacinto via the tram. While its distance and price makes my trips not as frequent as I’d like, it’s a special place full of memories and breathtaking vistas.

Maybe one day I’ll return to the Sequoia forests of Camp Whitsett and experience other wildlife for more than just a passing glance. In the meantime, I am happy enough with the frequency of seeing the places I have. And even when I’m not able to go anywhere at all, there is always a forest waiting for me in my mind.

EARNING LIFE’S MERIT BADGES

For everyone else, nature may not be the escape you need from everything. Perhaps it’s a long car ride, a theme park, a movie theater, a swim at the beach, or a dance club. It could be extreme like sky diving or as mundane as reading a book. Whatever your escape is, it doesn’t matter. We all just need that time to ourselves, isolated from the world’s problems so we can confront our own. Allow ourselves to take a deep breath and finally let our minds rest.

We’re the only ones who can find our own sanctuaries by earning life’s merit badges.

Still, visiting nature every once in a while wouldn’t hurt.

---

This article was written & assembled by Derrick Davis on July 1st, 2024 exclusively for Derrick Davis Media. Most photographs are taken by Derrick, but also includes select documents and images from Google and other sources.