Monday, June 29, 2015


I’m feeling a bit guilty, although I’m not sure that’s the right word. It’s Sunday afternoon and there are several events happening in Taos today. Shouldn’t I want to go to at least one of them? Also, there is a movie that one of my Facebook friends is co-producing about Native and Slave relations in North Carolina in the early 19th century. She needs financial support. There is yet another film vying for support that is about politics in our prisons and its previewing in Taos this afternoon. These are all subjects I find worthy but don’t have the means to support, and today I’m glad I have that excuse.  I am comfortably at home thinking small and making Strawberry Shortcake. PQ is watching Powwow flics on Youtube. While measuring out flour and sugar, I tap my feet in time to the drum. To be honest, I don’t want this comfortable flow interrupted by shoulds.

I intended to go to the pharmacy to pick up a recommended brand of cough drops for PQ. I’m not doing that either--maybe later. I wonder where this “you must do something,” feeling is coming from? Why isn’t it OK to “waste” time writing these words on the computer while the oven heats for biscuits to the background of Powwow music? Now I notice that clouds are covering the sun and it is very still outside, perfect weather for watering the garden and I’m not doing that either.

I step outside because I just don’t get what is trying to come through and stare at the grass out of focus.  I feel a sharp pain on my arm and involuntarily whisk the source off. The wasp tries to hang on but finally tumbles into the grass. OK, I get the point. I’ve been stinging myself instead of just blending with the flow of the day. My arm swells up and the pain moves in all directions. It’s going to remind me for several days that responsibility and covert righteousness is not the same thing.

Mountain Drama - Lots of storm clouds each afternoon, an intense summer.
Over the past three days, I took back the feral garden. The weeds were three feet high on the south side, and on the north two-foot tall grasses beneath which lay unknown scary stuff. I took the weed whacker and leveled the weeds to 3 inches. The next day I mowed what had essentially become hay, and on the third day, finished off by pulling all the tall wild grass from among the Hollyhocks, finishing along the edges with the weed whacker. As a reward, I uncovered decorative stones and flowers I haven’t seen for two years. This reminded me that lost dark places hide beautiful things as well as potentially dangerous things. I’m stiff and sore from head to toe, but it feels good to know why.

Maybe the guilty feeling is really covering the fear of falling back into stunned stuckness. When we returned from Arizona, we were barely recovering from the flu, or whatever it was, and encountering that wild green jungle was intimidating. Family responsibilities also struck immediately on our return before our feet landed right side up on the ground. Having three youngsters in the house on an everyday basis was too much under the circumstances, but their need was also legitimate. One stage at a time seems to be the message. They came by yesterday with their dad. We are trying to work something out that will be good for all of us. Isn’t that what this earth trip is about? Simple enough, but not so easy.