Paragraphs of Daily Thoughts and much Mental Therapy. Photos. Sometimes Videos. Published Weekly or so.
“Take only what you need and leave the land as you found it.”
”It takes a thousand voices to tell a single story.”
”Don’t be afraid to cry. It will free your mind of sorrowful thoughts.”
“It is better to have less thunder in the mouth and more lightning in the hand.”
”They are not dead who live in the hearts they leave behind.”
”We will be known forever by the tracks we leave.”
~ Native American Wisdom ~
More road, not the kind we like. Sometimes the liberty is taken away and one has to do what they need to do. With confidence I might add, even if not seeing a light at the end of this bureaucratic nightmarish tunnel. The light is there, eventually [definition: after a long time or a long delay] I will absorb it and another test of Life will be behind us while at an intersection of those unpaved roads which I will need to pick one. Such an easy task it will then be. We will adapt as we have always.
We are running along the main thoroughfares. Driving to Colorado Springs from Tucson I am finding this country so immense. This wide ribbon of black top we call Freeway. It is free for us, convenient these days as I am trying to get from point A to point B within a certain time frame, so unlike us. All is fenced up, the skies are blue dotted with the forming throughout the day clouds and a heavy man made haze weighing down as almost trying to take Mother Nature’s beauty away. The land is deserted besides a few farms at the horizon, a few dilapidated dwellings on their last breath awaiting the next storm to be put down. Little sand storms and twisters are picking up as paint brushes changing the terrain’s colors in movements of quick bursts, the cross winds are giving the tumbleweed a free ride across the road bouncing us around.
The passing is free, yet when moving on through such spaces many have dearly paid the price for this present stage. It is as seeing through such present into the past when the images of the precedent conquerors decimated and obliterated close to 100 million Native American Indians. An amazing number hard to swallow. "They" are the ones that roamed these lands freely with their own concepts of Life, cultures, spirits and presence as I can only imagine and read about their past. Nature is so beautiful and yet with such knowledge there is a bit of a somber veil. Such a price has been paid, so much blood has ran, finality.
They are now mostly away from our sights in clusters one can only see on detailed maps filled with names of Tribes, some I was not even aware of due to my own ignorance. A little square here and a little square over there where power and water and sewage does not run. Exists. The concept is nothing new. I just finished reading a book called "New York" which goes back to the days when the white man discovered Manhattan where the Natives lived, a historical fiction taking the pages all the way to today’s era. The violence fueled with greed throughout the going on centuries is only unbelievable, yet so true. I am now reading "Russka", another historical fiction, this time the story of Russia from day one to also the present and all mirrors the violent events from this land.
All this to maybe make room for the present for a bit of quieter times, or are they? I see the legacy left behind, the trash as I don’t have another word for it. I try to bypass such thoughts often, but they emerge as a transparency so real forming a backdrop of my sights and senses. They make me sad, the contrast of the human violence versus Nature’s herself so giving even if capricious at times yet never demanding anything in return only for some respect. Respect for our own sake if our thoughts are for it to last a bit longer for us to enjoy it a bit longer.
Right and left nothing is cultivated, all is left wild but the fences are up for a sense of ownership all left to decay without a footprint. Now nothing. Large nothings. The steel monsters are moving on with us pulling hundreds of also steel containers of all colors and names that have floated here from China and now going coast to coast. They go by behind the abandoned dwellings, the ones with the signs letting us know of the now absent mechanic that was on duty 24/7. The gas station some still with their pumps up and a price giving away the year everyone went on to town where the supermarket sprouted as a magnet calling in those dispersed locals. They are the modern Ghost Towns. An abandoned bus not quite taken over by the rust, torn are most of the billboards advertising what is no more.
And the slaughter was meant for all this? All is so homogenized, discarded, neglected, rejected and vacant. Was this the prize of all the fighting for a greed that could not sustain itself? A thousand thoughts are going through my mind as I try to concentrate on the road. I am here and already thousands of miles away from where good news has not yet come in. These present times say so much about Life. Few are aware of such history and maybe if so aware it is out of their mind as their own selves dominates the importance of their own well beings while driving a "chrome hummer" for a distinction wanting to attract and yet so fake as most everything else while taking on the path one think might be elevating to only impress filled with the same greed and the same missing foundations never build.
The "transparency" of most has vanished, maybe was never there to begin with. Do we know who anyone else is these days even if the technology of communication is reaching some height never attained before? Is what we mostly read or for the ones listening to broadcasts mainly lies wrapped with colorful and attractive wrappers topped with a bow standing out as never before? Is it the same for the gazillions of ride reports published on more gazillion blogs and forums? When only the staged bow is shown and written upon? I am afraid it is as I have witnessed it first hand when I discover the true and real stories. Why be so afraid to be who one is?
Landscapes, History, Friendships, Heart to Heart, all has become so rare loosing their transparency when none is seen for what it is as hidden with what one would like it to be. I cannot however give up. The pristine Valleys and Peaks are still there, true Friends still remain and the Hearts do go on beating a drum roll sweet to the ears and the senses.
Yes, the Circus “is in town”. For a smile.
Stay well, Ara and Spirit.