“My rides are always of an inner and outer path, sometimes running over each other, however with no harm but only holding each other up”

I enjoy besides writing my Journal, a need for myself these past years, to correspond with Friends. I am not much into small talk. If it is so I keep it to one liners. I prefer from the ones that can feel the complexity of Life, it’s Spirituality followed to make us better Human Beings toward ourselves and others, deeper conversations as in many exchanges of thoughts. Not into Politics even if somehow aware as a must to what is going on, on the surface anyhow as no one “really knows” what is going on since all orchestrated by the ones with the deep pockets and fat wallets. I do differentiate between Religion and Spirituality, as both basically emanate from the same basis of Humanity, one is organized and wealthy more than ever, the other “here” stands within my individuality from the true Heart undisturbed from wealth, or in this matter, the lack of it. Lack of it only in it’s concrete numbers or possessions, otherwise overflowing from an inner richness unequaled within myself from years past.

My Friends question me at times, they present me with their own facet of their own thoughts sometimes about my path taken, my hardships with the present more than ever in this Month of January regarding Lance’s departure six years ago now. My shoulders are strong even if they ply at times under the weight of a certain despair, much sadness, images that play daily as a reel of them all going around and around. We move on toward each others words with much respect, which many tries of wanting to help each other, as also others having lost their own Child write to me for all the same reasons. I call us the “Elite” group, not with a smile, neither with a frown. It just is.

Sometimes it is about Family. Not much of mine is left besides my Mother, which at 82 now I always felt for her and I to enjoy the present moments. Unfortunately she does not see it the same way as I do and the constant pounding of my head against a seemingly such solid wall has not either done me well. Again, it just is. Different generation, different Spirituality, values, morals. Not bad, not good, just different. I caught on a phrase the other day “Friends are Family members you choose”. How true I thought as we really do not pick our Family and I have seen from the best to the worse, only because of a lack of respect toward the “I like Chocolate, you like Vanilla” syndrome. Sad I would say, sad that is just is. I spoke deeply with my Mother after New Year’s Day while in this Desert where no one would physically hear me.

She was pushing and pushing, senseless past being brought up over and over, questions or more as I would call them “statements” of my present path,  and my lid suddenly opened up, and not with disrespect, but with a soft loudness if there is such a thing, over and over I implored from my different Mother, my own of Nature, to stop the words from incoming as my hurt was just too unbearable to listen to. It was as a trance took over me as on and on I only repeated my words as maybe no one was listening to them and as if one time, one time alone, they would fall into the right ear as I knew from the silence ensued through the receiver my own Mother had been stunned. I foul no one on this Journey. No one would know of us if these present words would have not been written as even here standing on this soil today with only distant neighbors unable to see me, unable to be disturbed as it is the last thought I would ever have for a ripple of my present times to wash aboard their own Lives’ shore.

It was as her words finally where enough, they could not longer be absorbed, they started burning me as all my mind is on is Lance right now and I am understanding that it is not one of her realizations or even close understanding. It is what I pronounced so loudly that day as maybe the echoes reached the “One” that needed to hear.  Maybe the curtain rose up in her mind that day. I don’t know. I heard her own despair followed by my own kind words toward her the other day, days earlier, when she had found out herself of so many of her Friends had passed away, or with Cancer near by soon going over the other side. How could it be? To care less about Family or? Again… it just is. I slowly hang my curious mind as I can only enlarge and understand sometimes my own path. Complexities of Life are of so many when I try to keep it so simple. This month has been the hardest to comprehend my own array of emotions toward the same month six years ago when these days of January, one at the time, hour by hour, moment by moment, witnessed my Child slowly changing both from his inner self to his own also physical self as almost being unrecognizable from carrying this foreign seed called “Liver Cancer”.

I scratch the walls of this chamber January has locked me in with my bare hands, my raw Soul which feels so inept at times to handle the weight of this moment which takes me back to those past moments so vivid as I can still even feel and smell the breath of my Love one. I had to run away… standing still does not suit me right now. The Park these days has been my savior. The need to move, put on the miles, let that ribbon unwind under my wheels. No destination took us to Boquillas Canyon where again I wanted to take a glimpse of this little Village across a few feet of water that separates two countries, a few feet of water gently yesterday moving on at it’s peaceful pace and yet could be as a wall placed a mile high because “that is what they say”. So the Village is now isolated. What took such a short time to visit a store now takes 7 to 9 hours on a badly damaged dirt road with Presidio being it’s closest Port of Entry.

There is a School there, there is a dozen or so Children, their parents which do not see anymore any of us come in to spend a few dollars on their local fair, there is luckily help that at time crosses to sustain their lives to not be totally cut off from ours. And yet, and yet as I spoke with one of their resident, they are “happy”. This gentleman had been there 43 years and his smile was from ear to ear, his words of wisdom were as he belonged to some philosophical group chanting the true meaning and core of Life. We do what we can, we have a roof, we have a bit of food, the children are learning the best Life’s stage can teach… And the truth of the matter is as I finally realized, they are not subjected to the urban flood inundating the minds of so many. I think in a way, they are the lucky ones, as long as help is send to them as they try so hard to better themselves.

I took the trail uphill, I left Spirit in his car, the hike is of an easy one but as I reached even a couple hundred feet of the Canyon, as I had been warned, the wind gusts at up to 50mph mixed in with much sand made me turn around as I did not want to destroy my camera. So maybe we will see the inside of those walls next time. No matter, it is a beautiful place, a little dot on this Earth that contains not only Mother Nature’s incredible canvas, but also Human Beings we might think have been lost for ever, but with other’s help have found the ability to go on. “Cynta” is an incredible Lady and Human Being that many here and near by Terlingua know very well. She has facilitated such help. I just want to bring up her name to “Thank her” for everything she does for Boquillas and more.

Till next time, you all be well, always, it is our best choice.

Ara & Spirit

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This entry was posted on Tuesday, January 5th, 2010 at 8:29 am 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.