This is Christina Wolcott. Christina was born in Illinois, lived in Humbolt County for thirty years and is now living in Palm Springs. She lives at the abrupt edge of one of the mountains that rings Palm Springs; mountain base, parking lot, Von’s grocery store. There is a white half wall that delineates nothing that I can discern except where Christina has built her refuge that consists of a bed, two baby strollers, and piles and piles of exactly arranged rocks in mysterious formation.
I first saw Christina a couple of weeks ago when I was hiking up the same mountain that she lives at the base of. The way that Palm Springs crowds right up to the very edge of the mountains that flank the city on one side is somewhat weird when there is so much empty desert space as far as you can see, but then not weird as the mountain provides shelter and the water and oasis created at its base, is severely limited. Huddled together out of necessity, Palm Springs with its airs of privilege actually can only exist practically because of the benevolent mountain. The mountain that Christina lives at the base of and communes with through the rocks
When I walked by Christina she was speaking to herself in a rapid rat-a-tat manner and walking in an agitated lines that led to the mountain and through the stones littered all around. She was dressed in a cool, funky, flair that caught my eye immediately and she waved to me in a relaxed way when I passed her by even though she was so intent on the rocks and the landscape. I was intrigued and knew I’d be back to see if I could interview her.
I came back the next week and at first Christina was gone but then she came walking and talking around the corner carrying plastic containers full of rocks and i just liked her, I liked watching her come towards me in her strange world and cool outfit, I wanted to sit down and talk to her and listen to what she had to say. I introduced myself and Christina graciously invited me to sit down on her bed with her, without hesitation or fear, Christiana invited me in. I sat I asked if I could video and photograph our conversation and away we went together. Christina speaks in a low growly voice that may be due to her diagnosis of throat cancer that she told me about, the rocks that she is obsessed with for Christina, and the doctors and magicians she’s consulted with, have too much radiation in them and might be the reason it hurts when she swallows. Christina speaks erratically and non-stop, but listen closely to what she is saying and there is quite a bit of coherence, there’s a through line in all her lines and connectivity and dragons and eyes opening and blinking in the rocks that absorb her entire focus.
I caught bits and pieces of her story as she threw the words out, she was telling me something, a real truth, and it was my job to decipher through her patterns. There was talk of her Angel Babies and then a tangent of her son that she was able to hold onto for twenty-three years and then lost – the reason there were baby strollers and a creepy doll strapped to one? The heartbreak was real whatever the linear events were, Christina’s eyes so huge and devastated in contrast to jaunty red suspenders and pearl necklace she wore. But the rocks, the rocks are everything to Christina. She spends all day, everyday, collecting, piling, speaking to, receiving transmission from, experiencing God through, animals appearing in. Christina will tell you about types of rocks, Cameos are one classification she is especially fond of. It sounds like she has had some conversations of cultural appropriation with Native Americans in her spiritual handling of the rocks and whether she’s paying enough respect or should even be doing it at all, totally fascinating. Christina prays and believes in the power of Love and the universal connectivity of God, people, dragons, eagles, and the rocks who act like a cellphone. Why not?
Please watch Christina’s full length interview here http://vimeo.com/252626037
In my mind, Christina is a mystic that has been driven mad by personal tragedy and the overwhelming magic of the desert. Its a classic combo, its the paths of most mystics and prophets. The power of the desert is real and pain breaks us open over and over, sometimes a person just can’t come back together again and stays in the raw egg vulnerability, ending up just heading out into the light instead of tethering again in the common world. When I looked into Christina’s eyes and her madness, I was looking into myself. The thinnest of lines separate her from me, she has looked into the sun and will never turn away, she stays transfixed. I look into the sun from time to time and feel the radiant blindness of universal connectivity and its seduction of truth, but then i look down to the ground and root with my connection to being just human and all that entails.
At one point, Christina looked me fully in the face and stared at me with such exhaustion and sadness. She said,
“I’m just so tired, I wish I could have time to hang out with my friends.”
It was that moment I knew we were sisters on a quest, that we are both being driven to outline where love and connection and divinity all meet and intertwine. Christina is so far out over the edge but I could easily be right there with her if I let go. But I want to be able to communicate all of this with you, I am the storyteller and gatherer, so I must keep a foot planted here and over there. Since Christina can’t get her message across to very many people, I will carry it for her, whatever the content is.
I will be a witness in Christina’s extreme resilience and fragility.
This is the nature of refuge.
