“How is one to live a moral and compassionate existence when one is fully aware of the blood, the horror inherent in life, when one finds darkness not only in one’s culture but within oneself? If there is a stage at which an individual life becomes truly adult, it must be when one grasps the irony in its unfolding and accepts responsibility for a life lived in the midst of such paradox. One must live in the middle of contradiction, because if all contradiction were eliminated at once life would collapse. There are simply no answers to some of the great pressing questions. You continue to live them out, making your life a worthy expression of leaning into the light.” [Barry Lopez]
We are still here parked in Booth with our departure uncertain due to bad weather coming up on the way to Big Bend Valley. Yet I am thinking within myself what could the true hold up since there is one. We have done our share of bad weather, the road calls and yet is it the comfort of a Home keeping these old bones warm would it be the real excuse? I feel so much as my distinct path has now only been diluted within the immense freeway of the many others living as such in the big city, a fact I am finding interesting. There is not much individuality as being in a Desert or on a Mountain Top as a single digit. I share the large parking lots with hundreds, thousands of others as also the roads demanding much attention if only to stay alive.
The more time we spend on the road alone or secluded at The Oasis and other spaces, the increasing aspect of an individual path I feel arises filled with so many distinct facets. The outside governs the inside. Vast and empty spaces are of my liking, they allow me to breath, feel and think quietly, with a depth unreachable otherwise. The balance becomes harder as time rolls on as I likewise enjoy, and so does Spirit also, our good true Friends, in the “City”.
Another day rolls on this morning, the forecast and radars are not very promising for today or tomorrow and it is a stand still. We have been going to stores on four wheels chauffeured around blending in the certain exodus as the many tagging along toward the so many destinations everyone has. I have waited in line wanting to return an item and experienced such a change in appearance of my also standing up and waiting neighbors. It is as the channel of the human exchange is on the blink, there is a certain nervous energy floating amongst everyone, there is no chatting or even a desire for it and if so, the reply, the words seems to be only always the same even on a Sunday “I am in a hurry and I am late”.
Finally many give up the space that has sheltered them waiting in such said line and have gone on to probably another line maybe thinking of it as moving faster, forgetting the time passed it took to just move on. And I thought they were late only because others were so likewise being. “Late”… “Hurry”… it is always the fast and faster sometimes even as I saw trying to be the fastest to get… where? To the next waiting line I presumed. In the meantime, in this particular store the boxed televisions where going out as fast as they probably came in on their delivery trucks. I know there must be and are interesting shows developing on those screens. Myself yesterday I watched with many smiles and much interest, even laughter, some moments of Julia Child taking her back to past cooking shows. She is my Hero after all. But I do know what else is on. The much as I call them “mind scrambling” shows only designed to take some awareness to a lower level projecting just a pass time with artificial moments to numb all senses as much as this World already does a good job at it.
A more interesting store was one called “Phoenicia”, one that took me back half a century to the moments spend with my Grand Parents most summers in Cairo, Egypt. The smells of the Spices alone with eyes closed was as a sudden path laid out onto memory lane. Everything experienced then was now here in much abundance on the shelves, rows after rows, the “real stuff” as I call it. A space I could have spend hours looking at every label, holding every jar from Rose Petal preserve, to mixture of past spices long lost but not forgotten to the cheeses unfound in your run of the mill food stores. I have been very fortunate to have experienced the many ethnic pathways throughout my childhood, from French to Armenian to Middle Eastern and everything else in between. I could not avoid thinking about the certain scenario that would take place if I lived here. I could not avoid thinking about all the cooking that would be present, as everything else, the other side of the coin from our present Life. A simple gastronomical pleasure that will be filled today with a certain leg of lamb that followed us, but soon back into the comfort of my Desert with also great food but for the Soul.
In the meantime George Ranch has left a lasting impression and my thoughts looking at the photos are still within those Homes from the different eras with each their own individual personality and their forward steps into “modernization”. What an irony that they are only miles away from our own giant steps forward and I can only feel fortunate of a Historical Society trying to preserve what was once I personally feel the stage of a better Life.
Till next time, you all be well, always, it is our best choice.
Ara & Spirit