I have been itching to write the several last mornings, and this one is no exception. Silly me was trying to do something else, but it gnawed and nagged, and you see what won out. The good thing is that it is clear what I should be doing, at least. It is harder for me when something is not as clear.
So many thoughts wander into my head during this trip. I have been trying to write them down so I don't forget to write about them. There should be one place, but I know there is at least two, and I don't know that I have yet to write about anything on those lists.
Why did I title this blog the way I did? In the last couple of days I have seen notices about several deaths on Facebook. One of the people I knew personally. She wasn't a friend, but she could have been. She always seemed to smile, and had such great energy.
Early when we met, she spoke of a friend she lost due to cancer. She teared up. They seemed to be very close. I was very touched by our conversation, and had asked if she would be willing to write something about her friend, and the experience she shared with her.
Nancy was involved in so much, it seems she never got the time to write. She was involved in so many people's lives that when she had a heart attack a couple of nights ago, and died, there has been a steady stream of tears, admiration, sadness, dismay, love, affection. It seems to know the impish Nancy was to love her.
I have wanted to say something publicly, on any of the postings, but I have found myself stumped. Sorry just seems too simple. I figure when the time is right, I will know exactly the right thing to say, and will have the right place to say it. It is very much what this trip has been about. I have been following that inner voice and nudging, and finding myself at times simultaneously laughing and in tears for the incredible things that are happening as a result of "just" being open to riding the prevailing winds.
So many people would HATE that. The creative nature in me I think has often been that way - but at odds with the logic that often dictates against it.
Yes. I want to know better what will happen. But why would now be any different than the rest of my life? I have always known I would die. I just did not know the details. Many of us don't. I would imagine it keeps us on our toes in some way. Certainly the uncertainty has been, at times, a motivator. How would we live life if we always had that driving force awareness? I suspect it would be a much different life and world.
As I write, I am sitting at the kitchen table in the house of a "new friend." I was going to say "complete stranger," but it is hardly complete. However, she is strange - but in the best possible way, and here is why I say that.
Yesterday as I tried to figure out what I was going to do for the day, and I saw something about Coronado State Monument (http://www.nmmonuments.org/) For some reason, the name popped for me, and I was thinking maybe I should find out where it was in relation to where I was headed - El Santuario de Chimayo (elsantuariodechimayo.us). But then, I was like, nah...let me just get on the road, and see what happens. So I packed up, got onto Route 25 from Albuquerque and headed north.
Then. To what do my wondering eyes appear? A sign that tells me Coronado State Monument is the next exit. Well, of course, I needed to go. There was no question. I did, however, wonder if I had been there. I wasn't sure what it even was. I had been to a place when I was here several years ago, but I don't remember the name, or even where it was.
It was a gorgeous place. Right along the Rio Grande. I wasn't sure how much I was going to see, but something told me I should walk around, so I paid the $3 fee, and did just that. I had no idea that I could even walk down toward the river. It was so amazing, and it was such a beauty of a day. I walked some, and thought about how amazing it must have been for those who once inhabited the land. To be able every day to wake up to the splendor every day...
Perhaps there are many other places on earth that once had that feel, only now to be covered up with concrete jungles and large abodes. A part of me wanted to say "littered" by, and I refrained. It seemed judgmental and harsh. But, in a sense, it is a form of littering. We feel we can do whatever we like with this place we call home, and we often steamroll it is the process. Nature's cycle is the only thing that lasts. Everything else is disposable - including us.
I have to get ready, as my appointment with a Shaman is in just about an hour. I will need to come back and continue what happened yesterday. I am not usually one for much in the way of teasers, but you will want to hear about what happened, It was pretty dang amazing.