When I lived full time in the cave, the thing to do was to get up at 7am and go “Up Top” meaning the level of Garth’s 640 acre property where his tipi was along with the open air kitchen. There were about 12 full-time residents when I lived there and Kyle, the kind-of manager was really into eating raw food. Obsessed to be honest. He’d show all the new arrivals a book from the 1980s with three white men in a tree on the cover called “Nature’s First Law: the raw-food diet.
I entered into the spirit of it all. I couldn’t believe my luck that I was now a “resident” at Garth’s place. It felt better than getting into Cambridge. It felt better than scarfing lobster and champagne with Bon Jovi on a yacht in Monaco when I worked at Harper’s Bazaar magazine, although jet-setter and cave-dweller life often felt similar in terms of levels of excitement experienced.
Lobster and champagne world: scrubbed up on a Monaco yacht with David Bryan of Bon Jovi
So I’d drink the green juice (made from cucumber, spinach, parsley and celery) and I’d have a chat with whichever communard happened to be at the kitchen. (Some of the more anarchically-minded chose not to get up there at seven.). There might be Farmer Steve, for instance. A former navy man in his 60s from the Kentucky. He’d come to Garth’s to finish building a structure called the “Spiral Dome” in an area of the land called the Village which someone had started and then abandonned. I’ve never been that interested in architecture but Farmer was driven by the idea of non-square houses. “The tiny house is still an old model,” he’d say passionately. “I mean basically, you’re living in a box.”
Farmer had spent much of his post-military life living in communities and puzzling over why they didn’t work. But I was impressed by his endless optimism. One morning he showed me a copy a book called of Nine Principles for Conscious Living. “You know,” he said in his earnest voice. “We mustn’t forget the dream. There can be chaos in conscious communities. But they’re also beautiful potential playgrounds for what could be and ways we could exist together.”
He chinked his glass of green glass with mine and added, “I mean, we’re literally on the edge of a new paradigm!” Things were later to go pear-shaped with the Spiral Dome. Everyone was too busy being “who they really were” to turn up to work on time. But it didn’t matter. I learned to hang on to those moments of “being in the flow,” the moments when community really did work and we all came together for the good of the whole. It felt good and strong and real and new. Besides, being on the edge of a new paradigm felt better than being in a swivel chair in an office in London.
Kyle’s novel way to teach Anu that fruit and veg are fun. Chores board in the background
Green juice was also a time to socialize with Garth who lived in the tipi. He’d been living there for 43 years. His father had bought him the 640 acre property in the 1980s after he’d walked barefoot around America for five years with an organization called The Christ Brothers. The idea was to live like Jesus, believing that Spirit would look after you. “And he did,” Garth would say, with a glint in his eye. “Most of the time.” Garth had a great sense of humor. He said it sustained him through the years of walking bare foot around America. To be honest, humor helped sustain me living two years in a cave in a commune.
Garth loved his rocks
If it was sunny, which it usually was, we’d sit outside the tipi with Garth and Buddha the pit bull, who everyone tried not to get too attached to. We’d talk about crystals or do Oracle Cards. These are cards offering spiritual insight and ideas about which vibe to live your day on. They come with an accompanying text. When I worked at Harper’s Bazaar, I used to start my day by reading Jonathan Cainer horoscopes on my computer. Doing Oracle Cards with Garth was similar but much more fulfilling.
There was the Lakota Sweat Lodge deck which was my introduction to Native American civilization in the US. It led to my reading a book called Gift of Power by Archie Fire Lame Deer which changed how I think about many things, but especially nature. Then there was the Crystal Tarot deck with figures like Merlin and birds and rainbows. It was a bit too fluffy for some of the plant medicine-oriented members of the community. Garth loved the Kwan Yin deck inspired by the Chinese goddess of compassion. I found the cards a bit samey and always positive, but some days that was what you needed.
The tipi was Garth’s home for 43 years.
Garth also had the Raj Neesh set, an original pack from the 1980s. He didn’t mind that Raj Neesh, AKA Osho had been branded a cult-leading nut case in a Netflix documentary. Why shouldn’t a guru have a Rolls Royce? And indeed, while some of the stories in the cards, lifted from various religious texts, could get quite bloody and/or sexist, a lot of the messages seemed good ways to start the day. I remember the one about “Trust in God but tie your camel.” Meaning, do lots of Oracle Cards and meditate on the messages but don’t forget to go to Grocery Outlet and shop for the week or we’re all going to starve.
Grocery Outlet, in our nearest town of Yucca Valley, is a store which sells end of the line food and weird, cheap snacks made from vegetables you’ve never heard of. It was also a kind of social hub for us communards who didn’t have the money to go out to bars. And nor did most of us want to. The cashiers say “hello, welcome” when you walk in so that’s your ego hit for the day, and you usually bump into some desert acquaintance among the special offer tubs of 25 cent ice cream made from yak milk that nobody in normal stores wants to buy.
Buddha: make sure you don’t get too attached
Yesterday I drove to town to celebrate because someone subscribed to this Substack. Five dollars! I thought I’d treat myself. I didn’t go to Grocery Outlet, I went to the new-ish Aldi in Yucca Valley. They have better fruit and vegetables. I bought a honeydew melon for 2.97 and a mango for 89 cents. As I was waiting in the queue a respectable but slightly dazed-looking woman turned to me and said, “Did you go to the Joshua Tree Music Festival?” This is a biannual music event that locals and out of towners go crazy for. They have didgeridoo jamming sessions and things like that. It’s not really my bag. I’m emerging slowly from my cave world and the thing is, when you live in a cave you think you are the only person in the world. You think you have achieved the incredible feat of escaping from the world. And in a way you have, even if there are 12 of you living in the commune. This woman and her friend told me they were from Washington DC. They’d been to the music festival. They seemed to be looking forward to returning to civilization. “We’ve been sleeping rough for four days!” they said as if they wanted a round of applause. I decided not to mention the cave.
I thought that maybe the woman assumed I’d been to the festival because of the way I was dressed. No tie-die but some army cargo shorts, a Star Wars T-shirt from the Angel View thrift store in Desert Hot Springs and my “power objects” around my neck. The oldest of these is a piece of cholla cactus wood with natural diamond shapes in it like sacred geometry. I hung this around my neck in my first few months of living at Garth’s. I suppose I should feel flattered that I don’t radiate swivel chair vibes any more. In fact, when I was covering the Dinah Shore lesbian festival in Palm Springs last month, another journalist came up to me and said, “You look like a free spirit.” I wasn’t sure if I liked this, but then I remembered that I always used to joke that my ambition was to be the “Crazy Lady on the Hill.”
On Saturday night I went to an art opening in Joshua Tree. The artist is a newcomer to the high desert who looks like a homeless person but he also collects Basquiats and Keith Harings and is in fact a multi-millionaire. I actually came to the desert to escape art. The fewer man-made things the better. And I wasn’t used to being round so many people used to indoor plumbing and living in square places with walls and a roof. Still, I sat with him and his friend as they had a very Californian conversation. “Did you hear what’s happening?” the friend said. “I mean apart from the wars and all that?” What was happening turned out to be flying cars. “Yeah, Toyota say they’re going to roll out flying cars next year.”
The stealth multi-millionaire nodded saying, “it’ll be quicker to get to LA now.”
The Joshua Tree Beautiful People
It’s weird to go from feeling like a cave woman to feeling like you’re living in the future. I felt the need to gain solace from my cave and a wave of relief went through me when I finally arrived back at my old home. Phew, an escape from the world. You never know what kind of sleep you’re going to get in a cave when you’re not there full time any more. When you’re there full-time you get used to movements of, say, the kangaroo mice. They wake you up and sometimes they scuttle over you but it’s not the worst thing in the world. And then inexplicably they don’t come round any more. One time there was a European rat which are the big ones with big teeth who are not necessarily friendly. But then “he” disappeared. That’s the thing about the desert, you can think all is lost but in fact change is constant.
Anyway, this Saturday night there were only a few ants crawling on the bed. Small ones. It’s still unseasonably hot so that’s why. But I slept very well and woke to the early champagne air. Sunset is more of a vintage champagne. A slightly richer air. My jet set days came in useful after all, I thought.
Morning glory: view from the cave
I rose at seven and went Up Top, but nobody was there yet. Things are different now that Garth isn’t here any more. But I went into his tipi and said hello to his picture on his old chair. I sat on his bed and pulled out the Oracle Cards box from under the dragon chair. When I chose the Lakota Sweat Lodge pack, I got Wakan Tanka. Great Spirit. It said: “Open your heart and all that you seek will follow.”
Absolutely loved reading this, Steph! You write so beautifully about the energy of the caves and Garth's kingdom. Please keep writing more and I can't wait to read your cave memoir!
I love this all so much.