For a week I camped in the desert

I’m on location. In a setting I thought of visiting, someday—maybe—but nixed the notion because it’s dusty and desert-y and HOT and DRY and really not my vibe at all. But here I am with more than 100 sisters from another mother, celebrating resiliency, growth, adventure, new friendships, dancing, singing, negotiating challenges like the sun and the coyotes and the 5 a.m. rooster alarm clock, all the while embracing the beauty, grace and strength of this eclectic gathering of wise women who have chosen to rejuvenate, reinvent and consequentially, connect with the Divine.

I never expected this. 

I never imagined I’d be googly-eyed-enthused meeting a YouTube “star” who says attracting 55k subscribers was never a planned career path. “How could it be?” Lulu said, genuinely surprised by the positive impact her channel has had on women across the world. She created “Lulu’s Way” out of a desire to share her van life discoveries from the perspective of a mature, solo traveling woman, while simultaneously promoting healthy eating, and positivity.

I, like others at the gathering, never expected that one day I’d drive out to Quartzite, Arizona, and meet Lulu and like-minded women who made the decision to seize the day—at this incredible juncture of life—and re-evaluate my choices and ask, “Where do I want to go from here?”

I never knew that taking a chance, trying something new, literally driving in a new direction, would be so impactful. 

What was it like attending the “2025 Lulu’s Way Quartzite Meetup”?

Our days were simple. Participation optional. Morning chants, followed by dancing and choral singing, discussions, how-to’s, a Zoom book club chat, a pet parade, a favorite gadget session, a talent/no talent showcase, disco dance parties every night at our neighbor Matt’s Burning Man-esque strobe-light, Desert Dance Club, and lazy, luscious moments of quiet and conversation between new besties. 

Throughout the experience, I kept asking myself and others, “How is it possible to make quick friends with women of all ages, sizes, colors, religions, regions, economic and educational backgrounds?” What’s the secret sauce? “It’s Lulu,” everyone agreed. The 67-year-old Massachusetts native, “Lulu sets the tone.” 

As a person, and content creator, Lulu is an anomaly. She has no sponsors, no product endorsements, and no agenda other than sharing what works best for her. Lulu’s message is direct and authentic: You are in charge of you. Make the most of this beautiful life. Live it fully. Purely. Celebrate. Be grateful. You be you, she likes to say.

And that’s the draw, that’s why I’m here, parked alongside many, many, many fellow van/sedan/Prius/tent/RV/rented car camper women, a little nervous, way out of my I-prefer-to-be-alone comfort zone, open to a new way of thinking, traveling, and accepting.

My people. My tribe. Gathered in this challenging environment. Drawn together by a sense of curiosity, opportunity, and a hunch that maybe, if I open my mind, something interesting might happen. 

And it did. 

My niggly, wiggly critical, negative thinking and self-doubt dried up like an ocotillo shrub. My moisture-craving face smiled for an entire week. I felt abundant, giving—free—and wholly myself. No one judged. No one compared. We all encouraged. Embraced. Sang off key. Solved car engine troubles. Shared food. Offered to help carry trash to the dumpster, a 15-minute walk down the dusty road and, like worshippers on Sunday morning, rejoiced as the afternoon temperatures dropped and the ginger sun painted Dome Rock Mountains a chiffon scarf of ombre orange. 

For a week, we Lulu Wayers lived in a 1960s, peace, love, Age of Aquarius musical. And while our creature comforts—showers, clean toilets, washing machines, flat screen TVs—were absent, that didn’t stop any of us from having fun, not the lady in a wheelchair camping in a minivan or the 80-year-old grandmother of 20 or 29-year-old Emily who drove to the desert from Wisconsin or Kate from Maine who caravaned with Purple Renee and Singing Sharon, traveling buddies who cultivated an alliance at a prior Lulu’s Way East Coast meet up.

Who does this? 

What’s going on? my writer-self asked Lulu and her friend, Laura, in between dance sets.

“If you can figure it out,” Lulu said, her toothy grin as bright as the Christmas lights illuminating the newly raked sand dance floor, “let us know.”

Here’s my take:

Women, especially after we’ve raised children, retired from jobs that may or may not have been fulfilling, are often discarded or overly relied upon as caretakers and fixers of everyone else’s problems. Life can take its toll. But, when we decide to do what serves us best rather than placing others’ needs before our own, that pivotal decision is liberating. And, when you’re with other women also in the process of, or having arrived at, self-love and acceptance, that nurturing, supportive, been-there-done-that vulnerability is not only life-affirming, but quenches a longing to shed life’s burdens and, like a newly hatched butterfly, celebrate our true selves.

For a week I camped in the desert with a tribe of mothers, grandmas, aunties, sisters, cousins and friends, and as the days went on, the dust and the rocks of Quartzite, Arizona transformed into a Field of Dreams occupied by mentors and heroes, the names of which you’ll never know. But their stories and faces, laughter and tears, nestled into my parched soul, offering me courage and strength for the road ahead. 

Poet Sarah Browning expresses what it feels like “When the Sun Returns” in her beautiful poem.

it is hallelujah time,

the swallows tracing an arc

of praise just off our balcony,

the mountains snow-sparkling

in gratitude.

Here is our real life—

a handful of possible peonies

from the market—

the life we always intended,

swallow life threading

the city air with

our weaving joy.

Are we this simple, then

to sing all day — country songs,

old hymns, camp tunes?

We even believe

the swallows keeping time.