The world changes constantly. That is a self-evident
certainty although I’m barely getting my head around it. As I age, I’m
accepting that I am not the same person I was ten years ago, let alone 30 years
ago. After making peace with that fact, it has become an adventure to take note
of the changes I’ve experienced and the changes that I’m undergoing now. Nothing
stays the same. Some things change faster than others do but even the stones, the
oldest substances on our planet are changing however slowly by our criteria, and
we humans are down here on this little ball in the midst of an enthralling 3D
picture show. I feel better looking in the mirror when I accept that continual
change is reality.
Personally experiencing the kaleidoscopic patterns
of change in my miniverse is the greatest surprise of ageing. The longer I participate in this 3D show the
faster time turns the wheel from scene to scene. Oddly, I am surprised by this state of affairs
as if it was an isolated discovery. Ironically,
the older I am the newer what’s left of my future seems.
During my early years, even though I took for granted that
there were wars, natural disasters and social changes, I saw the world as a historic
stage where everything that happened followed a script and each event was another
scene that would confirm a meaningful process on the way to an even grander
conclusion. My world back then consisted largely of external data insulated from my sense of self with
a soft focus lens. Of course, such a world had to fall.
It was merely the impression of a child experiencing the external world as the
inevitable progression of a drama to which I was merely a witness.
Although transformation surged within as I grew and
developed, I experienced this inner change against a relatively unchanging
backdrop. Now, that backdrop has come free of its moorings and crashed through the
living room. People die, ambitions die and so does the slice of time they were
dealt. This is relevant now that I’ve moved beyond that phase when one has ageing
parents to visit or take care of. I’m now an orphan of time and there are no
elders above me. It is both liberating and terribly exposed, it’s as if the
roof blew off the family home and then the walls collapsed exposing space in
all directions. However, space and freedom are not the same.
At this time, there is a plague of locusts (grasshoppers)
literally eating all the green babies in my garden. All winter I looked forward to green grass
and flowers. Spring started out well then suddenly everything went south. All
the flowers disappeared, sometimes overnight and soon the leaves were also
disappearing. Now, the unrelenting heat is making a green lawn with cool shade on
the patio a dream. Things are not turning out the way I anticipated. Life is
betraying my trust (I failed to notice that it didn’t come with a contract). I so
needed that soothing green world after a long stressful winter.
Next, I notice that the eaves on the south side of the house
need painting before irrevocably succumbing to water damage, and the cycle of
freezing and thawing last winter caused the color stucco to flake off that
south side of the house exposing the base of gray cement.
This house is ten years old, and upkeep issues are arising. Home
ownership seems like just another unwanted burden. I really, I don’t want to
climb a ladder (first it to be retrieved from the rez house) in this unrelenting
hot weather with paintbrush and pail, or buy, mix and repair the plaster. Then
there is some long neglected inside work to do as well. The list quickly tips
me toward overwhelm on the energy gauge.
After the fortuitous break of selling two of PQ’s paintings,
looking forward to easing the bills and making plans for PQ and me to locate
closer to a lung transplant center, several things immediately go expensively
wrong, accidentally capped off two days ago when one of
my cousins generously made it possible for us to attend a family reunion in Denver.
Although we cautiously avoided the urge to hang around and shop in a nearby
mall with every temptation one could imagine, or visit old friends and old
haunts. We headed straight home after the brunch and on a long incline a few
miles north of Walsenburg, the engine began making strange rattling noises. Stopping at a service station in Walsenburg,
we discovered that it was almost entirely out of oil and although we immediately filled
it with three quarts, it was too late, the damage was done. How stupid! Even though we checked the oil a few weeks ago, we learned that when the air conditioner runs constantly it is
important to check it at every gas stop and have oil on hand, especially with 124,000
miles on the odometer. Despite the engine noise, we decided the closer we could
get to Taos, the better it would be if we had to be towed. We climbed onward up
La Veda pass limping slowly until finally the motor shut down about a third of
the way up the Pass. After losing the phone connection many times and
speaking to a different AAA representative each time, I finally got a tow truck
scheduled.
 |
| Next to the Coffee Shop in La Veda |
Trying to remain optimistic, I observed that the weather was
nice and La Veda Pass was comfortably cool as we settled down for a four-hour
wait. I walked back and forth on the long pull-off shoulder that blessedly
appeared just as the car died, and Standing Deer leaned against it watching the
sunset. Even he can be patient if the options
are basic. Eventually, a young man named
Kris pulled up in a tow truck. We enjoyed his company on the drive to Taos. He
came out west from Tennessee ten years ago as a result of meeting a young woman
from Southern Colorado on My Space (remember My Space, once bigger than
Facebook?). Now they have three kids and
hopes to buy a double-wide to place on a few wild acres, someday soon. We even talked politics although he is a
Republican and it would be easy to step into dangerous territory there. Then we
talked about the deer we saw in La Veda the day before lazing on the grass next
door to the coffee shop. Deer live a good
life in the center of town eating lawns and gardens. Kris said he worked in La
Veda as a waiter for several years and along with deer had several downtown
bear encounters.
Although a completely unwanted adventure, it was true to the
unpredictable essence of life. This morning we got a ride from Son Jay’s
girlfriend to mechanic Jim’s place where we had the car dropped off last night.
He turned the key and heard the awful banging sound then gave us a quote of
$3,500 for a new used motor, and a time quote of about ten days for its arrival
from the west coast plus installation. Our family taxi’s heart attack will
have a domino effect down the family line and PQ’s other son Corey will have to
find a new ride to work, as will we for visits to the post office, grocery
store and oxygen supplier. Now I fondly remember the mom and pop grocery stores
and drug stores all in walking distance back when I spent summers with my
grandparents.
We have arrived at approximately where we began a few months
ago minus a car at least temporarily. Although I was hoping to get beyond those
worries, Trickster says I’m just not getting it. Obviously, I am doing
something wrong. I’ve decided to relax, let the grasshoppers have their way,
live with stripped shrubs and brown grass and put my faith in no-thing. Just
like the mishap on La Veda pass, I will submit to reality and enjoy the scenery
while waiting for a tow truck. It may or may not come but life goes on. I recognize yet another version of the Maybe Story, my favorite Zen teaching story.
This began as is a Taoist story of an old farmer who had worked his crops for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit.
"Such bad luck," they said sympathetically."Maybe," the farmer replied. The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. "How wonderful," the neighbors exclaimed.
"Maybe," replied the old man. The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown off, and broke his leg. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune. "Maybe," answered the farmer.
The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son's leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out. "Maybe" he said.
