Sometimes I fail to be prepared.

I like people that drive old pickup trucks...the rounded ones that are painted in a non-shiny paint (black looks gray, red looks rust, that type paint). One of the reasons for that is the truck itself...there's just so much simplicity to an old rounded truck. And the other is that I imagine that no one driving this type truck would run a woman down, hit her car and then attack her with a baseball bat. This is the story I heard today at work...about a place not so far from here (like 20 miles away, and equally small as we). I suppose it is expected that crazy lives everywhere, but here I expect it to be those fellas that walk into the country store buck-naked and hungover, or the old man who once tried to put his tongue down my dear friend Leslie's throat. I don't expect it to be that...a man with a bat. And they were unacquainted by all accounts. And she is in the hospital, while he was carted off by the law brigade of Willis.

I also like the threat of bad weather, not castastropic weather, but "warnings" about winter weather, big rain, or otherwise "this too shall pass" type weather for these parts. Here it is the complexity that works because all the doom and gloom actually makes a lot of people more joyful. They laugh and smile at work, imagining a snow day from yesteryear. They stand in the storefronts talking about past weather, and they seem to be happily gathering their things to set up for that "warm winter's nap" that we've all dreamt about for years. I like the threat because it brings good humor.

And although a dangerous snowstorm might run your car off the road, I'm pretty sure I've never heard of it beating you with a bat. So, I guess my vote in the world of threatening alternatives gets Mother Nature over Man today. And most days, really.

Id vs. Ego

Well, I guess I'm not finished for the day as I seem to be traveling back this way again. I watched an episode of Ellen while I was in NM and she had Wayne Dyer as her guest. Of course, I love these spiritual conversations and the hoopla can be all over the place, but I like Dyer so far. Ellen said that she looked to his books and audios a while back for some help in getting through a personal roadblock and one message was to "let go of Ego". Mr Dyer's response was that the one mantra he would suggest for anyone was "I want to feel good." And so, this got me thinking...did we get the wrong message in grade school? Or too much of the right one? I remember that "Id" was the bad guy...the one who ran around the park and bullied folks because "he" could, the kid too concerned with "his" own motivations and not concerned enough with those of others, the selfish person constantly looking out for "his" own welfare. And Ego...was the pleasant mediator, the referee, the peacemaker. While SuperEgo...well, we won't even discuss that. But, my point in thinking is this....if we, I, you, us, strip away the Ego do we feel good? Do we make adult actions that create our own harmony? Do we become all that we can be? And if so...where does the Ego belong? Only in the systems that make operations within society? Is our personal experience so different from those social agendas? Although, I did not hear Mr. Dyer equate the two in this manner, I think he may be on to something. It is believeable (at least to me) that the human structure differs substantially from the social one. That is not to say that I encourage chaos or savagery (see strange leadership throughout history) but I like that idea for living a life that makes me feel good and trusting others to do the same. And I know that there are people who live this way already...skillfully. But, I have never been that way. I have always been invested in the big picture, in the people around me, in the idea that what I do or don't do makes a difference. And it would now appear that I could tune in to my self, choose ideas that I am in tune with and I will be invested differently in the big picture, the people around me and I will make a difference to me. Sometimes, I feel painfully slow at life. I got a difficult start, and that's what I'll say in my own defense. I am thankful, nonetheless, for each voice that I've heard, and each heart that has reached out to me. I have grown so much, and learned a lot. I like this new plan though...it would mean letting go of so much stuff. A leaner load sounds pretty inviting.

Something beautiful from an art shop in Capitan, NM

Red or Green?

Well, it's time to do it...step out of New Mexico and back onto Concord Road. It was kindof like a dream really. I imagine that I will revisit it that way, and have a hard time remembering it in the first person. I wish that I could begin to explain the vastness of it. I know that NM makes southwestern VA look like a metropolitan area. You could, and I did, drive for hours never seeing a house, a gas station, a restaurant or post office. Just land for miles and miles. Huge acreage owned by ranchers, I suspect. It isn't green there...it's dry and ruddy...the mountains are red and sometimes pink. There aren't any hardwoods, mostly pine. Prickly pear cactus' grow scraggly out of hillsides. Different types of cactus and cactus grass grow out of the hard earth. On one highway, I passed a rabbit skin thrown over a fence. The tribes in Ruidoso are Mescalero Apaches. They own casinos. There are no big houses, no big business. It is quiet and quiet and quiet. And the people are so nice, so open, quite friendly in a quiet way. It felt like home to me...and I haven't had that feeling about another state in a long time. I think it was the space of it all...the immense area of nothing, the way the land lays still and waiting. I imagined the things that crossed over it....looking for food, looking for shelter. The cars that pass along the one road in miles of land. I love that desolation. And when I did meet people...they were so open to talk about life and spirituality and everything that I love to talk about. I visited the Georgia O'Keefe museum, but they were having an installation, so I could not enter. Instead, we were offered a research tour...where we saw her brushes, paint mixes, collections of stones and bones and dried flowers. I see how she loved New Mexico. I can understand how it called her away from New York. One of the best things that I could say was that I just wanted to see New Mexico. Residents beamed, and told me stories of how often that had people say that they didn't know NM was a state, thought they'd need a passport, etc. It has hurt them, and I understand why. The place seems fragile economically, but spiritually, artistically...it is a universe of wealth. When you go there, and I suggest that you do...be ready to answer the question "red or green?"...it's all about the chile, and you better call it quick.

Train through the West: New Mexico in January

Cactus Flower

Well, I am heading West...new turf, different folks, same moon over different sand. I am excited to get away, enchanted with the idea of the wild west. Planning to visit the Georgia O'Keefe museum while I am there. Going with an old friend who will be fun to travel with. We are low maintanance girls, and seem of the same contentment. I haven't had the time to research the trip the way that I'd like to...but there's a lot of fun in not knowing. I was able to get the house put together a little bit today, pay the bills and get my clothes packed. Of course, Mr. Bently is fretful...wagging his stub of a tail and running to an fro, afraid I will sneak out on him I suspect. He acted crazy in the snow today...running and digging and throwing himself around. He is such a lovely soul.
I think I am just looking for some new thoughts, new sites, different perspectives and beautiful mountains and landscapes. I was thinking today that people, places and ideas sneak into your life when you least expect them. I mean, maybe you've always been expecting them...but one day they are there in disguise. I am thinking most of two friends of mine, who are (I think) falling in love. And I can't say I am shocked, but I can say that the packaging didn't quite reflect the contents. It made me realize how little we do know about the great things. How much we anquish over the bad ones, try to find our way out of them, try to get better answers. But, the amazing things, like love or friendship or hope or faith. Those things come in the strangest packaging sometimes, blooming innocently into themselves and making those of us who are watching, realize that we haven't guessed all the tricks. We don't know how every story will end. And I, in my infinite ignorance, say...yea' God! I so love the idea of being surprised in sweet ways, in soft ways.

Snowberries and scattered limbs