I feel strangely bereft and sad. There is a fire in Oak Creek Canyon the beloved place we delight in viewing each time we descend that winding road from Flagstaff to Sedona on our way to Cottonwood. It is never going to be the same. It has been our own happy road to Shangri-La. The things stored in the past that I hoped would someday be used in the future are burning up all around us, blowing away, as softly as white ash. Yesterday, on the way home from the post office, I had an attack of nostalgia for the 80’s and 90’s. It was a “you can never go home,” feeling. Taos was then so alive with spirit, creativity and the anticipation of even greater things.
“For everything there is a season,” and we are on the edge of a seasonal change. For now, the spirit of life seems to be retreating. The earth itself is changing perceptibly. The beautiful green places are going brown while the oceans come ashore. After years of warnings, climate changes are now approaching the front door, and fire, water, or air may overtake your dream home, even the earth may buck us off like a wild horse. Thank God or Mother Nature for each mercy. Taos is finally getting some rain after a very dry winter.
|Shadow loves rainwater, and it is finally raining in Taos!|
I used to wonder how people such as my English grandfather felt when they came to the American West in their youth knowing they would probably never see their homeland again. My dad told me that his mother once asked her husband if he would like to visit England or more specifically Lincolnshire again before he died and he said, “I wouldn’t dare because I don’t know if I could ever leave again.” Of course, the changes one makes in one’s 20’s don’t have an exit clause. The possibility of undoing a major decision is always beyond the horizon in an inconceivable future.
These thoughts may be encroaching because PQ and I are wedged in place right now. I’m still hoping that this is a short-term circumstance but options keep wafting away. I suspect this yearning for a previous time comes from an interrupted life of unfulfilled hopes. It seems all wrong, the way the death of a young person seems wrong. It may be just a personal mood, but it sure seems that Taos has left on vacation and we feel deserted. The old pizazz just isn’t there anymore, although such a strong spirit never completely disappears. Getting away feels like a needed chance to gain perspective and regroup.
Although the spirit of Taos seems to be taking a negative turn, there was always a fierce aspect. Domestic violence, drug trafficking, gang murders, criminal politicians and general surliness are not a new development. However, the creative power, closeness to earth and the inspiring interaction of many kinds of people who follow their creative passion are waning. Then, perhaps other Taosenos are also staying home as we are waiting for something to change. Change can’t be forced; Taos has never allowed willful interference and only a humble ear laid close to the sacred earth can detect approaching change.
Perhaps I’m jaded. The things that were new exciting and liberating then are ho hum now. Maybe it’s not the 80’s and 90’s that I miss but the intellectually and emotionally adventurous person I was then. Probably it’s some of both. However, so much of life back then was flat out traumatic and I was much less secure about who I am. Perhaps it’s the wish that the things I anticipated back then would be fulfilled by now and that hope has gone south. In that case, being a bit nonplussed and disoriented would be natural. Is it possible this only an intermission in the play while God is changing the set for the next act? I hope this is the case. Meanwhile, the garage is full of stuff from our time in Arizona waiting for another chance. In case that never happens, I’m exploring ways to deal with now from a new perspective, now is all I have.
There is nothing wrong with being stuck in Taos except that PQ does better at the lower altitude of Cottonwood, and we are merely treading air. In the meantime, there is a lot to do around the house, although attempting to save money seems doomed. Whenever our income promises to improve, an unexpected expense pops up or a family member or friend needs help over a rough spot because they live here too. I fear that we may never go back to finish what began a few years ago in Arizona but that may not be the point. Life streams forward over the banks of expectation and we don’t control where it flows. Nature sometimes insists that we take the challenging road home.
We prayed, for abundance, creative stimulation, and progress on the spiritual path, but change can be a bitch with a mind of its own. Sometimes it doesn’t come the way we imagined. Actually, I’ve never known it to come the way I imagined which is probably a good thing.