Wilted Wilderness

“Josh went to Yoga, and never returned”

According to Rick, our Shuttle Driver in Santa Fe

003 - CopyAnd I think I can relate as I look back on 2018

…and the little messes we find ourselves in and transitions made .

We are not like the way we were when we started. From broken bones to shattered hearts. Burned out homes and dreams disappearing in hours as sweeping firestorms wreak havoc. 001

No time for adjusting, don’t get comfortable but change if you can. A whirlwind of leaves, of snow, of fire.

We ask ourselves to be patient to wait, to hope it will turn out differently but it doesn’t. And does it really matter, cuz we don’t seem to be in control.

Not winning an election was disappointing but a friend said to me.

Wait a bDSCN9956it, “it will be liberating”. You’ll shed a whole way of thinking, a set of concerns are no longer yours. A whole stature of your being you are no longer a part of. Poof!

 

 

 

So what does one do? Like when your house burns, right?  –  where are all of those things we no longer have? Do we go back do what we were, 007to what we had, what we thought was important? Or do we sit and wait a moment and just stop thinking.

It was while flying from a sunny San Francisco to a New Mexico blizzard as my mind began to wander.

Covered in fresh snow and roads frozen in ice, we landed in a new world with ancient rock forms,

Indian lores and cultures so old. Confounded by their meaning. 005The shape of things we could only be in awe of. I thought of the natives and their seemingly tranquil life style, a mirage now that likely disappeared around them.

I don’t know for certain but in a way I can relate.

To Sante Fe we drifted to celebrate Sue’s birthday and welcome the new year, the snow swallowed rock formations as we slide into the space of another realm.

 

 

Everything was refreshingly different. Everything…

At night I dreamed  …in the spring I will walk along the beach of the sinking ship of my youth and my feet will feel the sands of my time. Older, unrecognizable even to myself. Chipped a way, bit by bit. But still conscious. Still here.

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And maybe then feeling renewed, like Josh I guess, who “…went to Yoga and never returned.”

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