"I woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn’t know who I was — I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I’d never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn’t know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds." ~ Jack Kerouac ~

So yes, we are in Tucson in the heat of the summer. I have to, no choice in this personal matter needing attention as I try daily now to make the best of it. I feel it not that hot really as when wondering why I came to such realization, it is only because “we have to be here”. Different mind set. One has to do what they have to do is the ancient saying. I know if we came here to camp I would find it unbearable. The mind can be so powerful. Yet as time goes on I feel a transformation within me. One so aware of it these past times. The metamorphosis is always the same, it’s intensity deepens as this time around I am choking, my vision only sees the offering of Mother Nature awaiting for us, as she always does, as she always has. I have to go out, encounter and take care of matters and yet I try to only stay within four walls not wanting to confront what is awaiting on those steaming in more ways than one roads and multitude of vehicles manned seemingly so carelessly, so impatiently with noises deafening me. Patience, patience I tell myself, only 3 more days. Summer is not over yet, fall has just send out her invitation cards.

It is an amazing realization, one I myself could have not believed only a few years ago as much as throughout all my Life the outdoors always took precedent. I wish I could convey in better words this outer space we practically live within, this space where time itself comes to a halt with the exception of these present days. I have totally given in, I have surrendered without a fight, I have conceived our presence within this stage where my costumes moving always in synch have lost their shine but not their novelties. I feel as I should not write when as such I feel stifled, here, while I look out the windows and see the mountain tops and clouds forming every evening for the daily storm. More patience.

The road has become a feeding needed, I now know it. I fooled myself often as thinking maybe there might at times be another route, I could, we could re-enter a path that might lead us to a rest, a physical one, a mindful one. It will not be so, it is only getting worse, meaning it will get better knowing so strongly the path we need to remain on, the path on which I can hear and feel within my surroundings the core of Life itself. Spirit himself I feel him so quiet and passive as listening to what I cannot hear must be so overpowering for him. I look down with now so many hours of sleep, his running outdoor in the heat of the day has slowed down, unsafe times for him, and why not as he also knows these days are temporary, once again as it at times is.

The road. We dropped with not much of a break those 1400 miles which took us originally weeks to ride up. Good Karma was on our side. Once again stopped at one intersection it was a left instead of a right deciding to take on a more direct route through Moab, Bluff, Show Low and on to Tucson through Globe. I told Spirit “we need to bite the bullet for a few hours and endure the heat”. There was no heat. Moab was more than tolerable and so was the path all the way to Globe when only then the temps went up for a few minutes awaiting this cloud cover over Tucson which again cooled us off. Not a drop of rain touched us under at times the menacing skies. I myself look at this map and surprise fills me up, I never know the distances till I look at such a page.

Regardless, it was a nice ride, even the winds cooperated as too often I feel as sailing as winds can help us or work against us with so much exposed surface rolling down the road. I saw some dirt roads I had never noticed before, I thought, as quickly I also realized we had never been on such roads earlier. I forget so often where we have been, or more exactly how we have been there as sometimes the scenery start looking familiar and remembrance starts trickling down. Does it really matter? I think we will be moving on to Colorado next. Not too far, fuel being an issue, as I remember Crested Butte with however not enough time spend “up there” a couple years ago. Ouray?… it’s vicinity with all it’s passes?

"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 Tuesday, August 2nd, 2011 at 9:17 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.