LIVING IN THE AUTUMN FADE OUT

It’s hard to believe that autumn is here again. The older I am the faster the earth spins. I remember photographing a beautiful view of the Valarde valley this time last year and it seems only weeks ago. But, I keep talking about how time flies. I need to move on. Maybe it’s because I don’t feel like I’m making any progress, just getting more wrinkles while spinning my wheels in the same spot. Autumn moves in slyly. One morning I notice the air is crisp, the sky is deep blue and the grass is losing color. This year we didn’t celebrate San Geronimo day at the Pueblo. PQ’s son Corey is living at the Pueblo house now and doesn’t like the disturbance. He checked into a motel for two days to avoid the crowd.  We didn’t have the resources to put on a feast anyway and it just didn’t seem worth the trouble to fight the traffic just to see the pole climb.  I feel a bit guilty and also troubled by my loss of interest in the doings of both the Pueblo and the town of Taos.

The High Road to Santa Fe Yesterday.

I’ve wondered, am I bored or am I depressed?  I’m not sure which it is, but feel Taos losing its luster. There is no doubt that the art scene has become static and tourists no longer spend as much money as they once did. Maybe more Taosenos are staying home as we do, or maybe we don’t see them because we don’t go to art openings or hang out at local bars and coffee shops as we used to do.  We went to Lenny Foster’s Living Light, 25-year celebration last week and it was great to see old friends and find Lenny’s beautiful gallery doing well. Almost like the old days, but not the way it was in the 80’s and 90’s. I’m thinking that Taos is going through an autumn season of its own. Just as with nature, there is that gradual loss of color at first, and you wonder if it is just your perception or if the fading is real. Yet the sky is still brilliant, and the mountain remains awesomely impressive overlooking the valley. No, this isn’t about nature or landscape, at least nothing visible. 

Yet perhaps it is nature that is behind these changes. The world is in constant flux. We humans almost take for granted that we are observers of nature and fail to notice that we are part of nature. The loss of habitat and the high maintenance of our hi-tech world affect internal environment as well as external environment. As the technical world, surges toward an undefined pinnacle there are already signs of spent vitality. Is it possible that the destruction of Atlantis is a story repeated cyclically? It may be about our future as much as a cautionary tale from the past.

I wonder if anyone else finds it paradoxical that so much amazing technology is channeled on the likes of Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest etc., and on a more dangerous level, there are the amazing technologies of hacking and war. Yet human interaction on a soulful level seems diminished. I hope it is just developmental autumn.  Alternatively, call it the use of higher powers for lower ends, which is also a definition of black magic. Somehow, the development of human consciousness and moral responsibility has fallen far behind the development of human technology, in Buddhist terms, “the monkey mind” rules.

After autumn comes winter, so it’s too soon to look for new life. However, it’s a good time to prepare the soil for the spring. I have nothing to go on but intuition, since I’m not sure what to plant.  There is always concern for PQ’s health. We want to be in Cottonwood Arizona but patience must rule. There are unfinished things here in Taos such as recent family issues that require our presence, and PQ has an appointment with the hospital in Espanola that we are anticipating. The fine doctor at the Indian Health Clinic here in Taos is retiring but he set up this appointment for PQ. It is about a new drug for Pulmonary Fibrosis given on experimental trial. This is good news because this drug has recently become available in Canada and India but isn’t supported by insurance here in the U.S.  It is far too expensive for us Taos folks, so this was an extraordinary surprise. 

I did a reading for myself using the Russian Gypsy cards, and as usual, it was very insightful. Sometimes an objective take on one’s situation brings a new perspective. I don’t usually talk about them but these cards are not easy to find although I’ve had this deck for close to twenty years. They are totally different from Tarot cards, more specific and practical, less dependent on interpretation. This particular deck is personally attuned to me. Only occasionally will it deliver for someone else. I only use it if I feel brave enough. I’ve literally never had it fail, although sometimes it seems contradictory until something happens that clears the apparent contradiction. This time the message was more symbolic and subtle but from it I recognized that false modesty keeps me in the shadows. It is largely avoidance of criticism or rejection and thus fear based. Holding back one’s knowledge and abilities is not unpretentiousness but inappropriate self-interest.

 Here is the reading (much shorter than a typical reading but very effective):

Angel in second position: Reconciliation will give you joy. Reconciliation with the part of self I’ve shelved and reconciliation with Angelic message, i.e. neglected abilities and knowledge.

Crayfish in second position: Coping with fate. Listen attentively so you can correct whatever you have been doing wrong even if your pride will be hurt.

Bread in third position: Having received something don’t forget those around you. Share what you have with others. I now recognize that this isn’t about material things but knowledge and insight that I usually keep to myself.

Moon in third position: Delay in action will work against you. Time goes by and you get old. Make decisions and put into action. Be subtle, peaceful but determined. Avoid friction.

I do hope the message goes all the way to my core. After all, I am a part of the world that needs to move forward, and yet it is surprisingly difficult put away habits in perception and judgement. I suppose its about the fish who doesn't see the water.

                                                                                                                                                                                  

THE CHANGING

 The sudden change in atmosphere that I identify with the coming of fall moved in last week. Perhaps it started with the full moon in Aquarius, as the moon came closest to earth. In addition, the time for their annual pilgrimage to Blue Lake by the Taos Pueblo people is this week.  On our way to the Pueblo house we noticed that many of the horses that were in the main pasture since spring had been corralled in preparation for their trek to Blue Lake. 

It seems like merely a few days ago that the tree leaves were fresh and the pastures were finally green after an interminably long winter.  In childhood, a few yellow leaves at the top of a Cottonwood in mid-August meant that I could only enjoy life for three more weeks.  Now, sadly children return to school in mid-August. I hope that their experience with school is better than when and where mine was as a schoolchild.

Visiting Our Neighborhood

We are two years on the other side of the 2012 end of the world.  However, this doesn’t mean that it is the same world just because it didn’t end by meteor collision or alien takeover. Perhaps it’s only a matter of degree. Each day is a different world than the day before. Each day some people are born into this world and some exit this world. For me, time is the greatest of all mysteries. Everything in our world flashes in and out by the engine of time. The older I become, the greater the mysteries of time and existence in time becomes.  Strangely, it doesn’t bother me as it once did. Now it’s mostly curiosity and a desire to understand what remains.

Recently, Robin Williams left us by his own hand. It was a shock but somehow it fit with his personal self-portrait. That doesn’t mean there couldn’t or shouldn’t have been a different end to his story, but this was one that in hindsight seems plausible within its tragic overtones. His archetype was the sensitive clown.  He was a public figure and his fans hoped that he would triumph over his difficulties. That would have been a ritual victory for everyone who struggles against the dark side of life. Nevertheless, it is all one large picture and we wander around like ants in a big landscape. It only seems like the whole picture because we can’t see very much of it from our little piece of time and place.

Last week Marcello's Chinese Wife, Maria takes a photo of He and PQ.
who met 23 years ago at the Adobe Inn

On Sunday, we were at a wedding at almost 13,000 feet. It was for one of PQ’s nephews. It began and ended at the Bavarian but the romantic young couple had their ceremony by a waterfall several hundred feet above the restaurant. PQ was asked to sing the couple in and although he sounded fine, he was dizzy at that altitude and had to concentrate on staying conscious. It was all beautiful, and it had been a long time since I’ve been at a lush high alpine climate, but it was a relief that we had to leave early to take son Corey to work.

 We went to Indian Market yesterday. The day was beautiful and poignant because like a flower it won’t happen in just the same way ever again.  It made me appreciate what we have while remembering when PQ didn’t have to stop to breathe every few minutes.  I think we should look into a wheel chair for times like this. He is still physically strong and otherwise healthy but bad lungs are like a short rope.

Our 3^rd anniversary is coming up next month, although the impression is that we have been together for lifetimes. Of course, in our dream of being together the health and time limitations didn’t yet exist. But, there are good reasons for borders and time.  Saturn the border maker is always setting the stage for the next to last act.

A wedding at 13,000 feet. Beautiful but challenging for bad lungs.

 When I was a child, I had a recurring dream of running from a raging flood.  To escape with my life, I had to leap over a cavern that was getting wider by the moment. It was virtually an impossible leap but I gave it everything I had and barely made it to the other side. Sometimes I was hanging by fingernails and desperately clawing my way up the opposite bank to safety. Every time this happened, I was amazed that I actually made it. I always awoke with my heart pounding.

 

Looking back, I wonder why it was so important to outrun this pursuer. Life is temporary and old man Saturn always wins the final race no matter how slow he runs. So what would have happened if the flood had won this race? Maybe not to make it across this chasm is just another type of experience rather than total defeat and death. By definition, time is limited but there is also another reality behind this perceptible stage.   It is detached from our 3D story because there is always another act that isn’t visible to us the audience and actors.  My personal medicine is to recognize that I’m not just a spectator and only an actor for a while. So, what happens if I don’t understand what I just said? I suppose another flood will come and another until I understand the what and why.

There are terrible things happening in the world and yet this moment and place is calm and only a welcome gentle rain exists outside our door tonight. No one knows why there are always floods, earthquakes, cruelty and wars somewhere.  We can appreciate the calm and beautiful times without guilt because the wounded system we exist in totters back and forth trying to find its balance. If only we could learn to move backstage before the drama catches us.

THINKING BIG OR NOT

There are hidden superstitions that bind the soul and I’m becoming aware of a number of things I’ve fantasized doing for a long time while hoping that someone else would make them happen. I was sure that if I tried to do it failure would certainly ensue. Now that I think of it, failure is a probability for new ideas, but that isn’t a good reason not to try. Many good ideas fail when first tried. Generally, it takes more than one sketch to get a new painting just right.

Yes, in my younger years, I was discouraged and shamed for my dreams and hopes, but I think the real problem was that I believed that this was only about me, a kind of negative narcissism. I believed that good ideas couldn’t work in the real world if I was their representative. It’s amazing how often I have really wanted to see something happen and eventually someone did give it a go. Usually, I was critical because it didn’t fully embody my vision and thus failed in my sight because it wasn’t a full featured model of my vision.  I’m embarrassed to admit this. Critical hindsight is safe and thus often smug. 

I personally believe that we are each here to carry forth the evolutionary purpose of our ancestors. The future calls back to us as a guide. The ancestors may have gotten it wrong too, and likely did, but even if they were a success times change and with time needs change. I didn’t come here to struggle with the basics of life as my parents did but that is what I’ve done. This is a pattern and a pattern isn’t the same as an archetype. In reality, it is the dead end for any evolving pathway.  

Milda and me at Mabel Dodge House this week.

I have long wanted to be a member of a network of visionaries who see beyond the immediate social/political issues and wish to bring society up to speed on how to be a functioning participant in planet earth’s reconciliation with her human delinquents.  This means that we must embrace the reality that we are all indigenous people.  So-called Western Civilization continues to build displaced space stations called developments that function like a skin disease on the planet. Of course, this disease has spread far beyond its place of origin to infect the entire planet.  I won’t go into the exploitation of natural resources and the destruction of habitat. The important point is that most of us are slaves to a system that has overtaken us bit by bit and essentially over time made indentured servants of us all and requires enormous effort to resist. Most people have way too much on their daily plate, to get cosmic about the cause of the situation.  But, we dreamers need to stay in touch and support each other.  Sometime very soon, we will be necessary.

Another vision I’ve imagined as desert for the soul is an interactive gallery.  Shortly after arriving in Taos it occurred to me that people need to use art more like our ancestors did, i.e., as a magical contact between species, time and dimensions.   We can only imagine how the cave paintings at Chauvet, Altamira, or Lascaux were used but I’m sure they held a lot more power than the average gallery dispenses. In fact, art, ritual and natural cycles were never separate in the minds of our ancestors. Most indigenous cultures don’t have a word for art (or religion) because it is part of their connection with life and the source of life.  Perhaps my imaginary gallery would be a place where visitors could talk to the artist and each other, play drums and flutes, ask questions, share insights, find art, music, books and videos and above all meet artists. Perhaps they could also schedule private consultations with medicine people, get background information and sign up for local tours. Let’s go further and offer coffee, tea and local delicacies. It has been a disconnect from the start of my life in Taos that local coffee shops and restaurants don’t offer horno bread, biscachitos, prune pies and other local foods. They may be found at Taos Pueblo, but rarely in town.  Why should the tourist trade be only about an exchange of money? Most tourists don’t come just to give us their money but because they want to touch the spirit of Taos. Admittedly, this spirit has gone underground in the recent past but perhaps that’s because Taosenos have become more modern and cynical.

I worked in a gallery/shop on the plaza for just shy of 17 years and spoke to many visitors.  I remember that it was a quest of a spiritual nature for many people.  I usually directed them to the pueblo, told them when the next public dance would occur and then sent them to a local bookstore, or a place where they could find some history such as a museum. Often they asked where they could meet a native person and if I knew a Medicine Man. At that time, I could answer affirmatively on all counts. Alas, by the time I retired from retail on the plaza, very few visitors asked those kinds of questions. Until the recession hit, they were more likely to ask about how to find an agent to pursue investing in real estate, or about the local ski slopes.

The interaction of spirit and beauty seekers with Taos is a delicate issue, which is part of my reticence to jump into the issue. The Taos Pueblo people are extremely secretive about their beliefs and ceremonies, and the local Spanish people regard Anglo (anyone not Spanish or Indian) tourists as members of an invasive species on the verge of a takeover.  Both have their reasons for feeling as they do.  However, the rest of the world needs some of the old ways back if it is to survive, and those who have kept it in their hearts for hundreds if not thousands of years need for the others to get on board if they are to have a future. Of course, I think some of the Pueblo people believe that survival in the future world is not as important as maintaining their fidelity to their original purpose.  For the dominant anti-culture I have this thought: visit places like Taos as if your life depended on it, and look beneath the sometimes off putting surface.  Real knowledge is never easily procured.

MEDICINE RAPIDS ROCK THE BOAT

I usually don’t know what I’m going to write when I start a blog entry, and today is no exception, but I do know we are  like a stagnant pool shoved over its banks by a flash flood from the storm up stream.   Obstructions that had us immobilized are suddenly floating down a new stream. Sometimes I forget that many of my problems are the result of low expectations.  A long time ago, I learned to ask for little, expect little, and deny dissatisfaction with the way this turns out. The past week has crammed a year’s worth of action and a lot of reminding into a few days. The secret is a new energy entering our life in the person of Milda Vaivada who has been staying with us while she searches for her own place in Taos. 

Milda and PQ on the Trail

To say she is a powerhouse is putting it mildly.  The transformation started on the morning after we met her with an energetic walk down a trail that we had been thinking about exploring for the past year, but PQ wasn’t sure he could cope with it so we put it on the shelf. Simply walking through Walmart was taxing enough. Milda and I walked for two miles down and two miles back, while PQ joined us for the first mile. I knew the way back would be uphill and worried that he would be finished for the rest of the day after walking back. However, he was just fine even though his legs hurt from unaccustomed use. For the past two days, he has been chatting about new ideas with non-stop excitement, and usually he’s out of breath after a few sentences. 

I’ve been troubled by how I was letting myself slip into humdrumness, but felt stymied. The truth is I was bored with Taos and my life. The post office, Walmart, the grocery stores and occasional visits with friends was about the extent of our action. I didn’t care to walk in this neighborhood, which I don’t fancy beyond our pleasant little yard, and the rest was getting harder to see with fresh eyes. Eyes can be like weathered glass windows gradually clouded in grey film over time.  PQ and I were in the doldrums waiting for a chance breeze to fill our sails.  Worst of all was our depleted imagination. We both wanted to paint again but were intimidated by a garage full of stuff. This stuff came from mom’s house, our Arizona house, and the recent rental of the reservation house and seemed to be breeding when we weren’t looking. Painting in the dining room even with a drop cloth resulted in splatters of paint in places we (read I) don’t want paint to be.

Our new friend has all the exhilaration of someone discovering a new planet and it is infectious. This was a dry summer and suddenly the monsoon rescued us all from mummification. I don’t believe in coincidences, so an energy block must have lifted through all dimensions.  With our friend’s assistance, we have a new storage space at Hinds and Hinds and the content of the garage is moving out to make space for art. This is a longtime fantasy/wish. Besides, we are getting in shape lifting all those boxes. Even PQ seems to be thriving with the extra effort. I think it’s a subtle sin yet very dangerous to be stymied by something as simple as a garage full of cluttered resources rendered demonic by their bulk.

PQ Jamming with John Carey Band at Taos Mesa Brewing

I generally receive intuitive information on upcoming changes, but my humdrum Baptist upbringing often clouds intuition with doubt.   In addition, there is an ego component to this.  I hedge on taking a chance in believing my intuition just in case I’m deplorably wrong. Honestly, I promise I’m working on this silly attitude.  PQ doesn’t have this hang-up. For $70 a month, which we didn’t have last month, the space problem was solved, and taking that chance has resulted in seeding several more income upgrades. Getting one major obstacle out of the way miraculously opens the gate for everything backed up behind the dam.  Now here come the rapids.  But that'S OK, a few days of rest and we can get back on the boat.