“My  Personal Daily Therapy, published Weekly or so…”

Extend to each person, no matter how trivial the contact, all the care and kindness and understanding and love that you can muster, and do it with no thought of any reward. Your Life will never be the same again.
~ Og Mandino ~

“The Pain is a toll I willingly pay on my way to the top, for here, amid these mountains, I restore myself and loose myself, knit together my ego and then surrender it, detach myself from the mass of humanity so I may learn to love them again, all while coexisting with creatures whose kind have lived here for millennia”. ~ Philip Connors ~ [Fire Season]

It is late in Arizona tonight. The weather again has changed and a familiar cold has made it’s welcomed way. One more stop in Phoenix for a minor repair on "Old Faithful" and the last leg of road toward "The Oasis" will be facing us. I feel it in my bones to rejoin that piece of land now cooled off as her arms will embrace us and balance once again this mind and soul who has seen too many miles these past couple of weeks. I feel fortunate in more ways than one. A land to retrieve on, a space familiar as right now a significance of disconnect is suddenly surrounding me.

My solitude with Spirit has vanished these past times, it is always the urban environment dropping on us a present reality I can only handle in such low dosage feeling as the core of the Journey, it’s essence, slips away as it’s own simplicity vanishes filled with additions noting being unmoved or even more as in a Life’s traffic jam stuck on the crest of a wave surely on it’s path toward a solid wall.

The seasons are changing. I feel scattered lately as the rules of past years are no more applying. Where the heat was has turned cold and vice versa. Yet shade or plain sunshine are still the saviors of our presence on barren lands. I am too aware of our destroyed tent awaiting though. How long will I be able to look at it before trying to dismantle the poles, cut the fabric in pieces and pile it in a trailer for an Alpine trip for a recycling drop loosing the memories of warmed up evenings from a wood stove constantly burning. Maybe this winter will be mild. Maybe.

Scattered yes, and slipping away only wanting to retrieve the Journey where we left off. Could be Muley Point, could be Valley of the Gods, Toroweap. I will settle for "The Oasis" one more time. For now. As yet I know within a short time the desire to go will again emerge. It is nothing new, it is a repeat of the last 5 years.

We escaped the urban environments, unharmed, relieved and I feeling free. From Phoenix we spend a few hours on highway 79. Storm rolling on Tucson about 60 miles away, the sun slowly setting on the west side playing it’s colors through the clouds. The birds where in unison for the final concert of the day, the coyotes on the balcony approving the tunes. Give me Nature, anytime, anywhere, the rest can go, none is truly needed. What a show it was, mesmerizing, leaving me once again speechless while standing on a side road a few miles off the highway with no clue of the whereabouts of our physical presence.

Seemingly, wherever we are, every morning, I have fallen into a routine I noticed. I listen to the same three pieces of Music, they are soothing, they open up the day, stormy or calm, they appease my Soul. My acceptance of Life has become harder these past times. I don’t know why. Yet. Maybe I have been expecting an easiness, not an easiness in the material sense as within that aspect I feel so fortunate, daily surprised at always the turn of events taking place. Having a piece of land to fall back on with another dwelling besides the tent, a present from my Mother about 3 years ago, the “White Elephant, nothing I can afford to drive, a car now with an ECamper, a trailer, good Health, good Friends. Where did that all come from considering we left about 5 years ago with unknown destinations, doings, and $1000 or so in my account after paying Lance’s medical bills.

The easiness that I expected was and is of the mind. I will never stop missing Lance at every moment that passes by. Maybe the easiness of missing him? It just has not happened and sometimes, often, I just don’t know where to turn to. We roam and roam, we witness the most incredible sights this country has to offer, sunsets, sunrises, all in between. Some imprinted in my mind, some in photos. They have impregnated the moments within I get lost, they have raised the bar of my Life, of being, now, here. Redundant I feel. Sometimes defeated, lately very defeated. Inside out my tears have been running every morning, my heart has become heavy and pounding from so much missing. I just don’t know what to do too often.

Many write as this Journal, these personal chapters embodying survival, these photos, have carried them on. Few have asked where do I seek my own help as I have created this therapy yet sometimes failing into a downhill filled with worrisome. That dark tunnel reappears again and again, it appears at times in my sleep, when I wake up only realizing that I am actually breathing and alive and have to confront. I start thinking about the many others wearing my same style of shoes and feel then on so sad for them. I was just reading the other day of the 24,000 lives taken in Japan not long ago by the Tsunami. 24,000! Unexpected. Who then “am I”? Such a nothing particle amongst this sea of sand, this enormous wave of humanity. Why should I expect of it all to be better for me? 

We have arrived. I was not moved by the photo of the destroyed tent when I received it. I shrug, try, always the aspects of Life I cannot do anything about, the ones that are done, happened. Yet, seeing it in real time hit me hard. Sad to see this dwelling gone and at the same time fortunate there was no other damage. One piece at the time I will take it apart. I have use for the fabric, the little carpets still in good shape, the wood stove which will be the base of a smoker I always wanted. Life.

Till next time…

"I have had a great deal of interest in my photography over the years, for which I am grateful. Their sales are of much importance funding this Journal. Yes, please feel free to purchase one or two… or a few. I have been adding some photos lately, there will be more as I sift through about 100,000 of them.

Take a look. “Smugmug” stands for quality. Thank you”

Be well, always.

Ara & Spirit

This entry was posted on Saturday, October 1st, 2011 at 1:59 pm and is filed under travel, spirituality, pit bull, sidecar, motorcycle, cooking, photography, riding, homeless. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.