Yesterday was my baby’s 68th birthday. We met when he was forty-seven. Sometimes I succumb to wishing we had gotten together then. We compare our impressions and we both remember recognizing intuitively that we would be together but neither of us had the courage to admit it. Why do people do this to themselves? The only answer that feels real is that we have a fear of failing at something that is extremely important, too important. PQ says he was so afraid of messing up that he chose to keep on pursuing his carousing playboy ways and wishing he could be with me someday or in some other reality. I make a habit of deliberately confusing myself with doubts about my own intuition. I was afraid of making such a risky life-changing step. I now realize this was more about fear of making choices that would hurt my then husband and PQ’s current girlfriends and put me in the role of victimizer. I was much more comfortable being a victim. I’m not proud of that.
Being a victim was a safe way (or so it seemed) to stay out of nameless dangers. I learned to be invisible and non-threatening before the age of five. This was my MO. While others were getting attention, I found I could do my own thing if secretive and off the grid. It came from being an enemy alien in my family, school and church. When I made a serious step onto the stage of visibility by moving to Taos without the approval of family and some of my friends, (my best friends were pushing me toward that edge) everything changed and I lost 90 percent of my cover and all of my ill-gotten virtue. Taos is very raw and like Mother Nature, does not tolerate pretense or hubris.
The next twenty years have been a continual stripping of illusions and grand visions until I find myself on the lands of beautiful adobe dust devoid of any grand purpose, just wondering about what comes next. PQ’s disease is a curve we never imagined. Sometimes I think about all the things we could have done if we had come together earlier, when he was healthy and had no problem walking anywhere, traveling and doing workshops and gatherings that went on for hours. But, most of the time I don’t think that way. We don’t have a lot of years left and that makes each one more dear. By now, we both know that most of life is beyond our control except for the way we live it.
Much of life is obscured by clouds but now and then it clears and I get a view that is really awesome. Still, I hope for certain things. I hope PQ will be able to have a lung transplant and have many more years, I hope we will again be able to live at least part of the year in Arizona and of course I hope we will eventually have the financial ability to cover all the monthly bills and still have extra resources for such things as dentil work or surprise expenses for the things that happen to cars, hot water heaters and thermostats. I’ve lived on the edge most of my adult life but I find the older we are the riskier and less convenient it becomes. Of course, here in Taos most of the population lives partially over the edge. It was once a creative challenge but time has worn thin any Bohemian charm. Now, back to the emerging space between the clouds - I sense something is in the works. I don’t get more than glimpses here and there but PQ and I are both late bloomers. All the hard lessons and personal history are like the treasures and junk in the garage waiting to be re-discovered or culled. It’s been a long wait and it’s time to get moving.