I don’t think I will ever forget the night we met John and Nikki Starseed.

Life was beginning to feel like an interesting yet exhausting game of round robin. After spending our first few nights in Ventura trying to stop spending all of our money sleeping at a Motel 6, and the next few camping on the lawn at an RV resort by the beach, we found ourselves the proud (is that the right word?) temporary operators of yet another U-Haul. Apparently, the U-Haul place in Visalia needed their van back to fulfill a pending reservation. Whatever; Brendan’s dad dropped it off, so we didn’t mind. This time, it was a moderate-but-bulky pickup truck instead of the giant, oversized monstrosity we’d been stuck with in Blythe or the weird, somehow-too-small-yet-too-big van we’d managed to replace it with. There was still no word from the mechanic on when we would actually be getting the Explorer, which was now waiting for replacement parts to arrive. (Wait; why?? You know what? Maybe we don’t want to know…) In all the craziness, we had opted to rent a space in a self-storage facility practically walking distance from the school since we couldn’t keep playing the juggling game with our belongings that had already damaged a few of them. In hindsight, this was among our best decisions over the next 16 weeks, and we later joked that a lot of our problems would have been solved if only we could have just moved in there.

At any rate, after a shaky start, we finally made to our first real campsite since arriving in the Ventura area: the kind without showers, sprinklers or an overused public swimming pool. You know; the kind high up in the mountains where there is nothing between you and nature except the clothes on your back, where civilization with its petty demands and trappings are a long, winding, blissful road away. The evening sky was turning from the golden hues of sunset to a deeper shade of blue-purple by the time we had gotten ourselves completely settled in for the night, and in the interests of getting to know our new home a bit better and gathering some firewood, we went for a walk about the campground. In the fading light, we could see the majestic Ojai Valley meandering off into the distance, novel plant life we’d never seen before, and the first of many furred and feathered nocturnal residents of Camp Dennison that fill the night air with the strange yet familiar sounds of the great outdoors. Nothing we’d seen or heard thus far on our walk had prepared us to meet the strangest and most beautiful of Dennison’s denizens, however.

As the day turned to night, and the first of many stars appeared on the horizon, we were in the midst of trying to find our way back to our campsite before the last of the light faded so we could still see well enough not to trip on bumps in the road, when out of the shadows came a voice: “Hey, Hey!” Thinking that nobody could possibly be trying to get our attention, we exchanged a worried glance and prepared to keep walking. As we strained our eyes to peer into the distant forest, a jovial man wearing nothing but a pair of cutoff drawstring pants, a dim LED headlamp and a grin appeared from behind a tree holding a steaming pan and waving a wooden spoon toward us as he shouted “Have you guys eaten yet?” We hadn’t. By this point, we hadn’t even found any meaningful firewood with which to cook dinner, and our camp stove was still buried among our other belongings in our haphazardly packed U-Haul, we gave each other a shrug and a look that said “well, what’s the worst that could happen?” and ventured forward.

In the fading light stood someone who looked the way I’d imagine Jesus Christ would look if he’d been a post-60’s hippie and not a middle-eastern carpenter. The mop of shaggy dishwater-blonde hair that fell messily across his shoulders perfectly framed the warm, friendly face of someone you could swear you’d known your whole life despite having just met. This was John Apt, a self-proclaimed “inter-religious missionary” who, with the loving help of his twin-flame companion Nikki Starseed, was charged with spreading the wisdom of Spirit and the love of the celestial divine to all those in need. (We didn’t know what any of that meant at the time either; so don’t feel bad if you’re lost right now.) It turned out he had made a bit extra for dinner because he “had the feeling they’d need it,” and wanted to offer us a place at their campfire. It turns out they had extra food because they’d spent the previous day gathering past-date food from grocery stores to distribute to the homeless in Los Angeles, their previous destination. They’d had to leave before all of the food could be distributed, so they’d needed to cook it before it went bad, and we’d been the first people that had taken them up on the offer to help them eat it. Despite being made from “expired” produce, the food was warm, nourishing, and tasty even. We discussed life and the universe, and why so many grocery stores are wasting so much when they could be giving back to the community. As we ate, Nikki sat cross-legged amongst the entirety of their worldly possession who some how managed to look graceful unlike her wild counter part. She had short brown hair, and a kind smile with the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen and there she sat in the back of their aged van, bathed in the bluish light of her cellphone which she was using to provide paid spiritual guidance and blessings via chat as part of an online ministry she maintained across Facebook.

I know it all sounds a little weird, but truth be told John and Nikki were far(and by far I mean very far) from the weird people I have ever met. As for Brendan, well, he grew up a little differently. (His mom was a pastor’s daughter, and he was raised in a heavily Lutheran household) so for him this all sounded a little new age, but he took it in surprisingly well. The truth is, John and Nikki introduced us to a lot of new spiritual concepts in a friendly and accessible “you don’t have to believe all of this as long as you respect that there are people who do” sort of way. It remind me of the long conversations I used to have my mom, although I think she’d have agreed this was a bit much even for her. To me it felt familiar, and I’ve often found myself wondering about my father and if these were the types of people he’d have considered friends. (For those of you who don’t know, my father disappeared when I was six and died of a heart attack before I ever got a chance to meet him. He was self-proclaimed hippie who loved the open road). We often joked the John and Nikki saved our lives during those first weeks, but it wasn’t a far stretch. They were our first friends, and they welcomed us into their lives with open arms. We didn’t know it then, but these two people were about to change us forever.

Over the course of the next few blog posts, we’ll explain the more important concepts they shared with us that have really inspired us and given us real direction in both our lives and our art. Essentially, in the act of serving as many people in need as possible, they believed in and taught a little bit of everything as long as it served the greater purpose of spreading love and helping people in need. Whatever beliefs we came from, theirs was a position we grew to respect and admire. Through them we learned that there is true magic in the world, and a wealth of spiritual wisdom that needs no buy-in or dogmatic self-deception to understand and spread. The conversation that night sent us on a spiritual journey we will never forget. Over the next few nights, while revealing the secrets of the universe as they saw it to us, John and Nikki continued to feed us and share the warmth of both their campfire and their company with us.

One day, it finally happened: we got a call from my dad that the Ford Explorer the dealership had been figuratively dangling over our heads for weeks was finally ready. Within a day, our U-Haul misadventures were over and we had a vehicle we could finally call more-or-less ours. Why had it taken so long? The world may never know. The excuse the dealership gave was that they were still trying to fix the air conditioning close to a month later and “weren’t very comfortable” letting us have the vehicle until then. Seeing as how this wasn’t an essential feature in temperate coastal Ojai and Ventura, we decided to forgo any further “repair” work. The vehicle was perfect for our needs, didn’t need to be kept clean to get our deposit back, and didn’t have a giant U-Haul decal dominating its exterior. We were thrilled. We were so thrilled, in fact, that we completely forgot about all those lengthy days it had spent in the shop…

Several nights later, on our way back from a late night of editing photos in Ventura, Brendan noticed that the temperature gauge on the practically new used Explorer was WAY higher than it should be. As a stray bit of light from a street lamp caught the steam now curling form under the hood, even in our exhausted state we knew better then to keep going. That is one life lesson that we were well familiar with, having had two vehicles die on us as result of overheating. Brendan made the only decision he could: he pulled over and turned the car off. We waited, and tried not to panic at the amount of boiled-over coolant that had already been ejected onto the pavement. (Not our fault this time!) We tried again. No luck. Less than a minute later, the temperature was back up again and the poor Explorer had resumed vomiting neon-green poison into the gutter. (They really need to make a more non-toxic radiator fluid if they’re going to keep making cars that spit coolant onto the road as a “safety” feature…) Our instincts told us at that point that trying a third time would be dangerous, so we were officially stuck halfway up the mountain leading up to the campsite at night in a small town where nobody operates outside normal business hours.

Luckily, it was late and we’d promised our friends we’d stop by before heading to bed. Concerned about our late (nonexistent) arrival, Nikki gave us a call. Hearing our story, without hesitation they agreed to come and rescue us, these strangers they barely knew, at literally the ass end of midnight. They even offered to drive us to town the next day, despite having nothing to offer them in return. By this point, between the car troubles, camping fees and fuel for the 30-minute hilly drive back and forth between the campsite and the school, it’s safe to say we were flat broke. They didn’t seem to mind; by now we had gotten used to hearing the lines “Everything happens for a reason” and “ The universe works in mysterious ways.”

Yeah, those sound like hollow platitudes, but the strangest things happened around those two.

You can call it coincidence or chalk it up to an overactive imagination, but there we were, after spending all day wandering around downtown Ojai, trying to figure out how to afford food while silently begging the universe that our Explorer would be fine. As it turned out it was, and what had seemed so tragic in the dead of night was actually a minor fix thanks to our instinct not to continue driving. (It was the thermostat: a $20 part, with only minorly inconvenient installation, that can absolutely kill your vehicle if it goes bad and you don’t notice.) But here’s the part that gets weird: as we were settling our bill with a borrowed credit card number, (Thanks Brendan’s dad… again…) the owner’s wife walks out with three paper bags full of squash. Next thing we know, we are being offered more squash in more varieties than I had seen in my entire life. Seriously, there were three large bags of nothing but squash. The owner’s wife said she brought them because she “had a feeling they’d be needed.” Where have we heard that before? John and Nikki were starting to sound like prophets. We’d spent weeks listening to them tell us to just have an open mind and trust that the universe takes care of it own, and here we are with no food and no funds, and we mysteriously get handed squash. Maybe there’s something to this after all?

I guess the universe had a few more things to teach us, so it sent us the two most beautiful and strangle unique missionarys it could find who like us were also living out of our car. It was like they said; the universe works in mysterious ways. We needed someone to show us the ropes, teach us how to light a fire and learn to be open to new ideas and possibilities. While we were doing it for survival and the desire to graduate, however, this was a choice that they had made so that they could feed the homeless and help those in need, even if those people are crazy college kids who have never gone hiking a day in their lives. They taught us one of our most important lessons: Faith and acceptance.

You see, we could have simply walked away from the strange gypsy people offering us food in the dark forest, but we didn’t. We gave them a chance to show us who they were, and we were rewarded with friendship and a sense of community. I have to remind myself that we didn’t know them long, but for those first few weeks, we were a community; more importantly, we were a family. We never forget them because they were there for us with open arms and open hearts, and all they asked was that we do the same for others. It’s strange, but I think somewhere in the busyness and chaos of adult life we forget this concept: the concept of accepting and meeting people where they are, not where we want them to be, with no strings attached. We are all humans just trying to survive. We are called to just do our best to be kind, and to help anyone who truly needs it; no questions asked. I think we’d all be amazed at how much better this world would be if we all took a page from John and Nikki.

Join us next week for a lesson in magic and a whole lot of feather’s. Until then.