“Everything that seems empty is full of the angels of God.” ~ Kathleen Norris [Dakota, a Spiritual Geography]
The “dumbest” thing in Life happened. I am still on the shores of Lost Lake and that word “dumb” is stuck in my mind. It really is not the proper word. I have no clue as to why I am using it to myself thinking about my loss. The space here, floating myself into my “Little Big World” makes me think of him a lot. Constantly. "Where are you Lance? Where are you?". I look around me, wonders laid out to no end filling my vision and my senses incessantly. He is here. I cannot make up what he is wearing, but I see his face. I see his green gleaming so clear eyes, I feel his beautiful hands. I want to be alone with him. I am. I don’t want to leave this space, I know I will have to. I am sad and empty, and yet his presence comforts me. I am hanging on to the memories as nothing else really matters. I am so often afraid my direction will change, this delicate path I sometimes myself do not understand it’s concept or meaning.
I know I am off track right now. We did leave this past so serene space and for the past 3 days we have been in the middle and surrounded by 6000 others.What a rollercoaster it is. Time comes to a halt but I cannot. I cannot allow it as much as often the easiness of parking myself in a corner comes to mind. Sometimes I hear the forever "I am so sorry for your loss", as the eyes look away, the tone and volume of the voice becomes feeble. It is meant well, I would not want anyone to understand the constant pain even though I myself know of many on this stage. Unfortunately. But I am sorry also. I am sorry for Lance.
I am “myself” here. I am always “myself”, but at times I have to smile when I really don’t feel like it. I have to speak when I only want to be quiet. I want to see beyond but must look at my close up. And maybe it is a good thing to deviate my thoughts and mind too sheltered in a space such as this one. I can sit here and do nothing. The sun again is slowly phasing away, the golden hour is here and now. Today there was only one Osprey fishing. The Eagles showed up this morning and again a while ago to chase him away. My eyes were fixated to every inch of their flight. Their show leaves me breathless, it is an incredible sight. I had to stand up, pull myself together. I built a fire with wood someone had left behind. The smoke will keep the mosquitoes away, the flames will be entertaining and provide warmth.
I am exhausted from the past days. Maybe the heat? It was suffocating hot, shade was hard to find. Everyone was so nice, everyone was so nice to Spirit. It was also funny in a strange way to observe the faces of the ones not caring for dogs. I know it is a “flavor”. I wish I had taken some photos of the expressions, and yet, so sad as “a dog” gives so much. Is it maybe they themselves do not know how to give? I don’t know. I am too tired to try to understand. And even if I understood, what would that change? “It is what it is” as usual.
We catapulted ourselves out of Redmond/Bend area, the Rally’s location, to only end up of all places, out of desperation…. at an overpriced KOA where of course as everyone knows, Pit Bulls are banned according to their insurance policies. There is no legal way to ask the causes and reasons when it comes to the dealings of a service dog. Plain and simple there is nothing to say but show proof and open the gate. A Federal offense it can be upon refusal. I have to admit that, maybe the word "fun" might be too strong, it was on that genre. No battle but much hesitation on their part.
There was no desperation when Old Faithful so smoothly ran west toward first some elevation and on as getting closer to the coast some cooler temperatures. New rotors for the front brakes, new brake pads, a new slightly used right throttle body, fresh oil and filter, a true make over for the old girl much deserving it. A great ride which started with the discovery of a true Bakery in Bend. Another one, a true European flavor of an almost perfect flaky and buttery soft on the inside croissant, a true cup of coffee and a complimentary baguette. What followed was a job offer. Their Head Pastry Chef has taken on the road to Alaska, a one way road trip ticket. He burned out, I understood all too well. So tempting as a silver platter offering. I could only decline and yet think about it all day.
Eventually the green forests turned into flat land and the so familiar wind, southerly, strong and powerful again made a renewed acquaintance. It did not matter. No more heat, the past suffocating days in Redmond where quickly distant memories. Today only a few miles north the stage is now again inviting. A campground on the beach. Our own pathway to miles of sand watching the tide come in ever so slowly, the taste of the Ocean, fog rolling in, patches trailering a blue sky enlarging by the hour. How long will we be able to stay here? We don’t know yet. Camping is difficult in this part of the country. Reservations is the norm, weekends are impossible, we don’t have to be in Enumclaw till next Tuesday for some work to be done on the sidecar. I just found out we will have a spot till Monday. Nice.
I have had much thoughts about the Rally. As a Friend told me, they most likely have halted the dynamics of our path. It was a price to pay to be enriched by meeting new Friends and experiencing how many have been so kind to Spirit. As myself always wanting to scratch other dogs, so many strangers asked if they could do so. Probably missing their own left behind for those days. Let’s face it, Spirit was the only dog to my knowledge allowed legally into the buildings. There were others, but unfortunately for them, the matron of all matrons kicked them out as she tried once with us, later on even complaining to me that soon animals will have more rights than humans. Than some humans? They should. She worked for the Fairgrounds I should add. It is all water under the bridge. We are at Peace here. Cold and at Peace.
Be well… there is always someone worse off than you are.
Ara & Spirit
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