“We need to see the monster hidden in the dark recesses of the World’s labyrinthine history; we must remind ourselves there are clues to help us find our way back out again” ~ “The Art of Pilgrimage” [Phil Cousineau]
The Terlingua Bash taking place this weekend, only attending yesterday with my good Friends Paul, Voni, Ardys and Harmonica Bob, such a great “entourage”, is still fresh in my mind. “Open mike” in the early afternoon listening to some incredible talents, specially the “Lavens” Family, then on experiencing a Pirate Costume gathering at “Passing Winds”, and if that was not enough, finding ourselves in the middle of an annual Motorcycle Rally which takes place in Study Butte with more music, food, you name it was present. The evening clouds while overlooking “The Chisos” were also the highlights of my day. It was a magical time when patience is my only Photoshop, when I wait and shoot, wait more and even longer to capture that one instant that fills all the senses and can be at the same time framed for an everlasting memory. My mind also goes through another “bash” more frequent lately as had written about it earlier. All is part of it all. The balance is at times so hard to keep leveled when… well, just as now.
This time around, even so having had great company, songs played with a guitar, a fire burning all night, good food, and a couple days having past, Lance’s Birthday has hit me like a ton of bricks. So much kindness and compelling words have poured in, behind all of it I don’t seem to be able to detach myself from this present reality. And why should I? I think often. I only want to handle it better. I think of all the possibilities present. The "living" financially itself has become a burden too often even for the fact considering I don’t attach much importance to materialism. It is weighing me down increasingly and blending in with all as I also wonder incessantly what does one have to do with the other? Is it “matter over the mind”? I think often about going back to work for a few months, by need and for nothing else. Scratched sensor on my camera, more scratches on my eyeglasses, a laptop showing its age stalling, shutting down, crawling, an emergency not yet happened, all makes me wonder suddenly "what am I doing?"
Should I even publicly write these words or should I keep them for myself. Myself is on my Journal, within all those pages breathing in and out. They are all part of this Journey, this path of ours that has never had a regret since the starting line. We have had help through sponsors finding us and supporting some of our needs, we still do. We have had readers also supporting us, seeing these pages as a book laid out as it would be at a bookstore. A thick giant coffee table book. Rare however they have been and so thankful to the ones allowing us to surmount difficult times. I wonder often in such present moments what we should do. Am I crazy to go on as such? Am I insane to even trying to obtain better equipment to display it all? Am I even out of my mind feeding Friends food purchased with money borrowed from bills to pay? And yet isn’t it how all this pertains to my Soul surviving?
My good Friend KC finished his e mail with this line the other day “Be safe, be broke and be loved. You know how to do all that.” Typical KC I thought which is what I wrote him back, because of always his honesty and truthfulness, welcome humor also. On the other hand when a couple days ago I gave away a couple photos to a true Artist, a true Musician with also some of the greatest writing skills, not my Friend that joined me a couple nights ago but another, and gave away because it is so much more rewarding to do so instead of the complexities of trying to sell, his own words were “I spent more time looking at your photos of me today; my initial impression was one of slight shock I suppose, what I picked up on today that didn’t register yesterday was how the photos captured that phenomenon that the native Americans observed, that our faces grow to resemble the landscape of where we live. You captured that in the juxtaposition of my slightly weatherworn face and hands with the wind-scoured wood in the background, they looked like they both belonged…another fascinating observation was that in the photo of me explaining something and holding up two fingers; my fingertips are black from the oxidation of the strings and hours of playing. Thank you. Those are photographs like no others that I have. You captured the "nature" in my face like Ansell Adams captured the essence of Yosemite. Thank you again…”. They will obviously make it to his new CD cover.
Of course they are “feel good” words, specially coming from such Artist filled with a sensitivity and craft level most of us will never reach. A Gift he has. An appreciation of some past moments when seeing him on the side of the road, tucked under a porch teaching a young student how to play the guitar, I had stopped because I myself felt there was an image I could not let go, a “feel” I was wanting, needing, to capture, and started shooting without even asking him. How does all of this ties in together? Again I wonder. Maybe one has to be “broke” and poor to live such times and give to others freely and then on receives further also freely as myself feeling all “free spirit’s” wealth is always within, never outward as I know too well. It is hardship that brings on a stage so too humanly “true” and “genuine”.
Sometimes however the road gets bumpy and bumpier. Often worse, the path seems to be filled with the cement barriers as the ones recently witnessed on the closed and shut “La Linda” bridge. So despair sets in, all the questions from above rise on to the surface of the day, evening, night time. They play a melody I truly only want to hear the last note of it and yet, as I believe we are all responsible of our own actions, and should be, of our path, the chant here goes on and will see or more “hear” how long all this will last. Not the Journey, not the lyrics, but this cacophony at times often worrisome. I am the only one accountable toward myself. Ourselves.
Ara & Spirit
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