SOLAR ECLIPSE - August 21, 2017

I remember mom telling me about the solar eclipse she watched as a young child. It must have been the eclipse of 1923. She would have been seven years old. They broke dark glass bottles through which to view it and one of her classmates got a nasty cut. Times have changed. No responsible teacher now would let a second grader use ordinary bottle glass and especially from a broken bottle.

I had no interest in watching this one through special glasses. It was a natural, recurring event and besides it was only partial here in Taos. However, the sun did grow dim and I found myself wanting to wipe clean a non-existent window because the light went down as if God had turned a dimmer switch on the Sun. Nevertheless, I did notice a change in the energy surrounding us. The Moon normally reflects the light of the Sun after the Sun has moved to the invisible side of the Earth. When the Sun goes dark above us, in what would normally be its zenith, it must turn our normal perception inside out.

Somehow, this fits perfectly with the times. Many qualities associated with Leo, the astrological sign ruled by the Sun, such as ideals, leadership, authority and protection from dark forces seems to be turned inside out, and apt description I believe, of a Solar eclipse. This analogy is also an apt description of our current world condition and definitely our national leadership. 

The enormous attention given to this Solar Eclipse, indicates that such primal events in nature still activate something equally primal in we modern humans however urbanized we have become. Nature rules in spite of our artificial lights, electronic information and asphalt footing. Of course, we attempt to capture such cosmic events with our mobile phone cameras.

Normally, the Moon reflects light from the Sun and stimulates the inner Sun of the emotional, intuitive realm to come out and play. A full Moon is an exact opposition of the Sun and Moon. However, there is an unseen dark side to the Moon and Full Moons are notorious for stimulating both sides of the Moon.  In our culture, the Moon has a feminine identity, and that is appropriate in that the Moon is only a reflection of the dominant Sun who has all the other planets revolving around him. This, however, is not true in all cultures. It may be that much of the craziness in our daily news has something to do with overlooking the intuitive emotional aspects of human nature and thus leaving them undeveloped and prey to distorted expressions. I can’t help notice that most malicious, brutal and irrational outbursts are coming from young males. They obviously lack something important in their emotional development.

We will never control this rogue behavior with violence and further rejection alone. There has to be a genuine and soul satisfying alternative. Yes, it’s possible; even likely, that politically motivated forces are encouraging much of this explosive behavior, but lighting the wick of a candle has an entirely different effect than lighting the wick of a bomb.  

Some years ago, the rangers in Africa began killing older bull elephants, to thin down herds. Before long, they discovered that the young males went rogue, killing other animals that elephants usually ignore, and harassing the females with babies.  It turned out that older males were necessary to keep the young ones in check and show them how to behave. When one gender is out of balance, all is out of balance. People are more complex, but something important is missing in our development whatever the origins of the problem.

Inevitably, the perceptual filters of our experiences and beliefs are impacting this earth. I believe most of us would agree that it is time for us to become conscious and responsible for the environment we create with our unconscious views. We have lived for a long time with an approaching solar eclipse.  A physical eclipse of the Sun by the body of the Moon that represents all the unconscious powers that we ignore is a great symbol to work with. All that is unconscious is more likely to manifest in destruction rather than creation. However, our universe lives in cycles of a dance of darkness and light. I do hope, however, that the time is not far off for the Sun to shine again on the inside as well as the outside of our lives even though I suspect darkness will become deeper before the light begins to emerge.

Las Cruces Cross Road

FOUR DAYS AGO: It’s 3:30 PM and PQ is taking a nap. I haven’t had much time or inspiration for writing this week. This is it. Yesterday we drove to several venues from south to north here in Taos, hoping to cope with a shortfall by selling at least one of PQ’s hand painted jackets. I didn’t want to do this due to the virus effect that is hanging with us since we returned from Las Cruces on Sunday. That trip was all about another showing of “Awakening in Taos”. 

Petite Suede Jacket - $350

The long weekend held continuous challenges for someone on 5 Lts. of oxygen 24/7. We hauled oxygen tanks from venue to venue for receptions, showings and Q&A’s.  Sometimes PQ ran out of oxygen entirely and we had to wing it and hope for the best. People were friendly, curious somewhat bedazzled but not interested in buying art. At least not from someone they knew very little about. The Southern part of New Mexico is actually a different country and the art, history and natives of Taos Pueblo are exotic to them.

Some of the stress was in finding venues located far apart in an unfamiliar city. I learned to use Siri (somewhat) after my Garmin GPS failed us, but the tension continued and PQ and I have different ways. Each of us thinks the other doesn’t know what he/she is doing when faced with the unknown. Packing and unpacking  large paintings, a powwow drum, 12 painted coats and jackets, drawings, greeting cards CD’s and our luggage was another challenge. On the last morning, we ran out of oxygen tanks and had to locate a provider acceptable to PQ’s insurance. After ordering, we discovered that they wouldn’t deliver to hotels. Mark Gordon, our producer was waiting for us to guide us to the theater again but ran out of time and had to leave us on our own. Thankfully, the oxygen provider was only half a mile away, but it was under time pressure and we arrived at the theater a bit late, yet proud of ourselves for finding it on our own. 

Frankly, I don’t think I described all of this with total accuracy because it is a blur now. Unfortunately, it was a blur at the time as well. I’ll admit both PQ and I were exhausted and semi-conscious before we arrived. He had painted feverishly for two weeks prior, and I lay out and printed cards, organized the items and priced everything until late the night before we left. This wouldn’t have been a problem except that I was just beginning to recover from a cold and so was PQ. 

Medium Black Denim - $350

Now I’ve vented about our rather strange experience, and am trying to settle back into the Taos rhythm. I started to worry about the bills we collected last month because we bought art materials, had to replace an old washing machine that died and make a payment on our son’s truck while he was between jobs. Our income doesn’t accommodate extra expenses. When the late fees and shutoff notices from utility companies started coming in, my stomach tightened by habit and I resigned to a sleepless night.  Then suddenly, my mood changed and I began to feel light and free. For some reason I recognized that worry is an out of date response designed to mollify a false sense of responsibility. Self-torture was never useful and only created more problems.  The universe isn’t picking on me uniquely, and not all efforts let alone self-generated suffering will be rewarded in the real world. Then a flashlight came on and illuminated the room. I saw that my life is focused on staying out of trouble to avoid criticism and shame but my personal trickster was crafting the opposite again and again. I was making myself crazy with a purpose.  

I can’t please everyone and there are times when I can’t please anyone. This truth doesn’t require a desperate response, or a belief that I’m cursed. It just is. Things have not been smooth this winter.  PQ is going through his own frustrations and disappointments and sometimes he expects more than I have to give and is impatient with me. My failure this month to please our creditors put a hole in my ego through which I could peer at the larger world. I was in a similar loop with my husband. I thought I had to meet every expectation and make him happy or I was a total failure as a person. I could feel us drifting further apart and was powerless to fix it. Then, on this day, I realized that I alone couldn’t fix it. I could love him, be frustrated with him and even blame myself for not understanding his version of perfection, but my feelings of failure would never make us okay. I can’t do it alone.    

Medium Denim Shirt - $350

My hopes and expectations for our relationship were a precious dream. Ironically, he also had a dream of what we would be together. I’m not saying that those dreams are not good. I still believe there is much of value there but not the way I once imagined. Will we survive a blizzard of reality in this rather bleak winter?  Actually, I see it as a necessary trip through the storm. On our recent drive from Las Cruces to Taos, exhausted and rumpled as we watched mile after mile of sand and dry brush move by at what seemed a snail’s pace, authenticity was taking root like a tender shoot developing beneath the barren winter soil. 

Medium White Denim - $350

Perhaps there isn’t anything wrong with reality after all. I believe this life is a school for the soul, but on a larger level, it is a school for this evolving planet’s essence and destiny. They are organically connected. 

Expectations tend to hold the future within the habits of the past. Typically, when a people moved from one location on the planet to another, they insisted on keeping the plants, animals and beliefs of the place they came from. I was just reading about the Vikings who lived for almost 300 years on Greenland. Then something happened (probably weather change and a shift of the ivory market to Africa) making it impossible to maintain a Northern European life style on that cold barren island. Instead of adapting to the lifestyle of their Inuit neighbors that is still functioning at that location, they returned to Europe or died in place. The magic comes in making change a womb instead of a grave.

THE TRICKS OF TIME

PQ is making new designs on drawing paper every day. Our relationship is in flux. He is restless and pushing for more in life, dissatisfied with the way we are. We have been under much pressure in the last few years. A make it or break it challenge for our relationship.  I know some of it has to do with getting older, shorter of breath and now a new threat of compromised kidney function. Nevertheless, his energy is good and his stamina unaffected. More people are getting in touch with him out of the clear sky wanting blessings, or information about pueblo culture and the way things were—movie people, musicians and writers. This is what I saw and hoped to be a part of 20 years ago but I’ve always been too far ahead. When real time catches up to the vision, the vision itself becomes dim and tattered, like that favorite print that I save rolled up under the bed waiting for a time when I’ll have the money to frame it and the space to hang it. 

Time is upon us. A few days ago, we were waiting for a friend to arrive at one of our favorite Santa Fe restaurants. Across Guadalupe Street, PQ saw a neon sign on a second story window, “Native Lives Matter.” “That’s what I want to do, something to help my people, something meaningful that will inspire my people and remind them of what we are about.” A few days earlier, we had been watching “A brief but spectacular moment” on PBS featuring African American poet, Clint Smith. He delivered a poem about how America hides the realities of racial prejudice and exploitation by our founding fathers behind a whitewashed (pun intended) version of history. PQ told me, “I want you to contact that poet and tell him how much I appreciated that message and I would like to work with him in some way, it’s important,” So, I did. Clint Smith answered with a simple but warm acknowledgement and thank you. I believe that the energy trajectory is gaining momentum and it’s going to have an effect. We aren’t getting younger but we as individuals are going through a ripening process and harvest time is here.

I believe this is the most important time for the most important ascension. I’m not referring to a New Age plan to escape this uncomfortable and sometimes frightening world. The most important ascension is we moving from purely personal motives and desires to the experience of relatedness to all the other beings and even the cosmos. That is a bit too heady, so I’ll break it down. We are going through a cleansing of our personal cooties, the ones that have kept us scratching personal itches too long. Another analogy comes to mind, just like with the country, our windshields are cracked and spattered with mud and we’ve just been tolerating it.    

The alienating beliefs and attitudes in our world are becoming dangerously extreme. There is great danger that this division will destroy the consciousness needed to resolve that division. People are taking sides in a way that prevents healing and instead further irritates open wounds. Poet Robert Frost had this to say about inner conflicts, “The best way out is through.” To me this means the answer is not in escalating conflict between opposing forces but in transcending the divisive extremes to a higher encompassing third approach. 

Some people believe our new president is going to answer their prayers and some believe he will destroy the country and beyond.  My personal opinion is that he often functions as Trickster, breaking through the weak walls, accidentally shining the light on the wrinkles and warts of a system that is full of contradictions and compromise, even as he charges in like a Bull in a china shop.

On another level, PQ’s design styles are changing.  Possessed by a strong spirit that is fine and focused like a laser he cranks the volume up on his Bose and paints all day.  His guiding Medicine teacher is pushing toward the upper world.  There is sometimes confusion as the new boss struggles with the haughty young man inside who won’t give up easily. The young guy still has some grievances and unfinished business, but this incoming spirit has an authority that won’t be stopped. I sense his amazement, joy and strength.

Real life demands that we take it on its own terms. It is much like a nocturnal dream and doesn’t condescend to waking logic.  The countenance of Coyote the Native American trickster is laughing at us, all of us. Here we are at the beginning of this New Year and the shadow truths behind both our institutions and self-images are bulging furtively around the edges of their sanctified masks.  As deceptions grow, they fit less well in their containers. 

A few weeks ago, something shifted.  I had a quick glimpse of the mask I’d been wearing—a bland self-effacing mask that I thought would be neutral and nonthreatening but was completely contrary to my essence. I learned to wear this mask in early childhood and then identified with it (for those of you into astrology, I have the Sun, Moon, Mercury and Jupiter in the 12^th house, all squaring Neptune in the 4^th house).  I covertly projected and supported my true birthright essence onto friends and lovers who usually ended up rejecting my masked persona.

 I have no idea how the future will unfold for us as individuals the nation or the world.  The Universal Command Force doesn’t confide the big picture to the likes of me, probably realizing that I’m all I can handle; however, Coyote always screws up while trying to trick others. Remember that when in despair of the future world. 

SHADOW PEOPLE OR MY TEACHERS THE BLACK SMOKE BEINGS

Who are we? What is the background of our existence? Now and then, I get a lightning flash of insight into a much greater reality than this world compounded of one day after another, one year after another. I’ve come to believe that there are many strata of our being that simply don’t fit within the common powers of perception.  Then, perhaps in the natural sequence of perceptual progression, all but a few enlightened beings have yet to awaken to that level of experience. Either way, I’ve come to the conclusion that we have deep roots extending both above and below all known definitions of being human.

Like snowflakes, each being has a unique design while still following its archetypal pattern. This is the essence of creation in motion, and with it the inevitability of destruction for each individual expression of that greater pattern. We naively believe we are autonomous beings that belong only to ourselves. Yet, we are more like a nerve ending of the collective human body. We carry the responses of our ancestors and make way for the experiences of our descendants but, for now, I want to find the entrance to the previously unknown layer of reality that brought me to the Black smoke Beings.

Shadow People, or Black Smoke Beings, in my experience are not truly ghosts. They may in fact be a creation of certain states of negative consciousness. Consider the possibility that we actually are literally co-creators of our world. In this proposal, these strange entities eventually take on a rudimentary consciousness as well as an independent state of being. However, they live by energy generated with negative emotions, especially fear, anger and suspicion. Although I really don’t know how they are born, or where they come from, I clearly saw them, and for a moment read their minds and recognized their influence for generations back. Their situation is secondary.  They do not have a truly independent existence but require the vibrational energy of negative human emotions for sustenance.  

I suspect that we seriously underestimate our powers and thus our responsibility as co-creators. We put god outside of ourselves and beg “him” to fix unfortunate situations or make our hopes come to fruition. Frequently, our prayers are answered, yet in a manner our ego identity fails to recognize. Most of us occasionally are aware that we may be more than our personality or the states of consciousness that we include in our ego package but we seldom extend this vague awareness beyond our habitual identity nor any hoped for improvement in that identity.

I’m not suggesting such experiences as the Black Smoke Beings are merely figments of our imagination. The power and essence of emotion is considerably underestimated. It seems to me, that emotion is a many layered creative power source. We humans are in a sense conduits of power from more than the familiar four dimensions.  In the esoteric world, there is above and below and all directions emanate from one point as powerful as an atomic reaction, the elusive now. Yet, we are also very suggestible and much of our interpretation of reality is due to unconsciously assimilated assumptions about being human, living on this planet and how reality works. Regrettably, we discard unfamiliar or socially unpopular states of perception automatically and habitually, before they creep all the way to the remote borders of consciousness.  This leaves our neglected powers stalking in the dark woods outside our seemingly safe doors.

Consider the possibility, that there are powers that would prefer that we never awaken to our co-creative powers. The lower limits of consciousness often are sustained by traditional Religions in contrast to a less culturally biased spirituality. Now consider that religion is only one of many reality factories. For instance, Scientific Materialism is the official orthodoxy of this time in history.

During the time that I encountered the Black Smoke Beings, I also experienced strange phenomena in the form of large pale yellow flying insects similar to dragonflies circling my living room. I could see them even though I couldn’t open my eyes or move. Later black snakes ascended between the cracks in the wooden floor of my old adobe. I know this comes off as literally crazy stuff, but it never affected my ordinary world, the so-called world of socially agreed upon reality.  Interestingly, my cats also saw these entities, watched with fascination and curiosity but did not behave as if threatened.

As odd as it may sound, I recognized these events as messages from forgotten dimensions and guides to powers I hadn’t encountered before. I also suspected witchcraft for some of these experiences. There are many so I won’t attempt to explain all, but I was living in psychically close contact with a medicine man from the Pueblo while naively attempting to help his rebellious son understand the importance of his own path to medicine. It is important to keep in mind that when relating to any other dimensional consciousness there is both light and dark. There are those who help us attain a more comprehensive consciousness in contrast to  those who intend to scare us into submission or get rid of us. To obscure matters, the dark types often deceptively present themselves as helpful or neutral.

As a working concept, I have come to see this part of my personal history as an opening to a larger viewpoint. I will compare it to viewing one’s life and environment from the highest hill in the neighborhood. There are always going to be taller hills, then mountains, and eventually the limitless space above all mountains, but it’s best to take on larger realities in steps. I no longer consider it my business to impress others with the importance of fulfilling their “destiny.” It is impossible to know what someone’s personal tolerance to an expanded perception might be. Each being has a unique pathway through a forest of distortions. At an age when many people consider their life’s work complete, I am barely identifying the obstructions to my journey up the next mountain. I believe this is the weakness that made me vulnerable to “psychic attack.”  It was not a bad thing. When I acknowledge that there is both dark and light as we encounter new dimensions, I want to make it clear that they are working in tandem. It’s not about judging the experience one over the other.

I believe that the greatest weakness we have as a society in this time / space, is the belief that one can make great strides in one direction without activating its counter direction. Have you noticed that great breakthroughs in medicine within a few years are countered with the negative side effects and frequently stimulate the evolution of a more powerful virus?

Last night I watched a documentary on nuclear power. It is a solution to many environmental problems and to the eventual cessation of the use of fossil fuels altogether, but no one knows how safely to dispose of nuclear waste and it wasn’t considered in that original elation of discovery. In 20,000 years will disposal instructions still be decipherable by our descendants.  Even as individuals, we often solve a problem, sigh with relief and satisfaction and then discover a bit later that we have unleashed a greater problem.  Alas, the evolution of our world seems to exist under the tragic tutelage of pain heartache and destruction.

Now, I have reached the edge of a mental precipice that is too sheer to descend and too wide to jump in my present mental capacity.  I think I’ll make some brownies because I have a chocolate craving for the second day in a row. I need to restore a simple earthly bond.

SYNCHRONICITY AND THE MEDICINE WAY

Synchronicity: The simultaneous occurrence of events that appear significantly related but have no discernible causal connection. --Google

Synchronicity is choreographed by a great pervasive intelligence that lies at the heart of nature and is manifest I each of us through intuitive knowing. --Deepak Chopra

Life took a sudden turn for the better about a month ago. After avoiding some simple tasks that had evolved into huge intimidating monsters over the months, I forced myself to clean corners, dust, vacuum, organize bookshelves and cabinets and go through my closet to prepare for autumn and winter. Then PQ and I applied a mental whip to our backs and became mules to carry the contents of our storage space to an empty room in the old Pueblo house and our in town garage. This was necessary to eliminate any unnecessary expense after the Social Security people decided to take PQ’s SSI money away.   Ironically, we had been considering applying for an increase, since we couldn’t seem to get all the way to the end of a month on what we had.  At the beginning of our Project Downsize, my body was lagging way behind my resolve even though the resolve wasn’t very tough either. Everything hurt and I tired quickly. After three days, I felt stronger, younger and better coordinated. It was as if I’d dropped fifteen years. More importantly, the situation changed from dreaded loss to an interesting challenge. Nothing is as disheartening as perceived helplessness.

These were behind our house last week.

Often it is synchronicity that shines the light on dark trails.  I have almost never successfully found my way through life by conscious planning, and yet I often don’t consider where the light on a path comes from until much later.  It is just as likely to appear as an unfortunate accident such as the reduction in our income. Then at another time, it is the luck of being at the right place at the right time. In contrast to my actual experience, early programming conditioned me to argue myself out of the power of unexplainable events.

The truth is my true guidance in life has always transpired without a logical or rational explanation.  Reason only fits the important connections together after the fact. So-called intuition and raw instincts are the most powerful tools of synchronicity. Daydreams and unsolicited imaginings contain previews about future direction, and are usually forgotten until they materialize.

I noticed when looking over my history, that there is a typical backdrop for challenges and a distinct pattern. Nevertheless, while stumbling psychically through sharp brambles, quicksand, clinging to crumbling cliffs or trekking through desert wastelands with no visible horizon, I see only chaos, and feel doomed. Yet, there has always been a stubborn drive to keep going and never accept that pain and defeat is the only possible fate. If reality were otherwise, why would I instinctively struggle for a different outcome? There is always a power greater than personal experience that drives me on even when my ego is writhing with the pain and shame of defeat.

It recently occurred to me that the holographic universe is the milieu of synchronicity. Alas, chaos is the other side, the dark background on which the design is revealed. There are contrasting sides to every scene or we wouldn’t be able to see anything. Consciousness comes from noticing the difference.

Mirror Tricks and Time

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.