The yurt was located in Laurel Canyon. It was a circular tent and covered
in beige felt. Having harvested cacti the previous day at her friend’s land, close to Joshua National Park, the preparation was now in full swing. First the spines were removed using the tip of a small knife. Then the translucent skin was peeled off to make the wet, dark green flesh appear. The holy grail. Hours later the brew stood ready in a cauldron of cast iron. The small gathering of friends sat in a small circle on large embroidered cushions and pillows while the leader of the ceremony poured the liquid in tea bowls.
And to listen to the wind blow.
The brew was like drinking bitter earth. And then. Everything moving, the colors so vivid. A magical and enchanted land, so intense. She went out and laid down on the ground. One moment Catherine felt she had enough, and the next moment she surrendered. Wind chimes of bamboo created a subtle, soothing noise together with the leaves from the surrounding trees. The bonfire crackled and she gazed at the clear sky of planets, stars, asteroids and comets.
The beauty of the desert all came back to her. Joshua Trees reaching up towards the sky in prayer. The dusty, earthy aroma and the sweetness of rain. Untouched nature sculptured by relentless sun and strong winds. It all now started to make sense and have a meaning.

Includes excerpts from “The Wind” by PJ Harvey (1998).