We’re here. For all my kvetching, whining, and monging about lack of funds and suicide and busted lives, we’re here, and speaking for myself, there’s nothing busted any more. To what do we ascribe this?
BLIND LUCK, mostly! Hah.
I’m also a survivor, in spite of myself. And a lot of things about moving to northern New Mexico nine years ago are deeply positive. As promised in the comments, with this post I begin a series about what’s great about the place, the people, and whatever has sustained me. Besides MasterCard, I mean. You know, the good stuff. First, though, we need to revisit an old issue.
Namely, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing when we moved out here in ’99, yet it couldn’t have happened any other way. Without intending to, I ended up making as many mistakes in as short a time as I could manage. More probably, since I often didn’t manage at all. But it would have taken me a whole other lifetime to challenge myself as much as these last nine years have done. By blowing up my old life, I saved my soul, because I was bound to my fears and needed the shock. Not that I knew I was going to blow things up like that, you understand, which I would never have chosen to do. I must have thought — in some alternative universe — that by relocating from Maryland to New Mexico, we were only moving farther out of town. Can you believe that?!? So this is the first Good Thing: I blew the old life up and didn’t die, and neither did my lovely wife.
Nothing too deep here, just spiritual biology. Taos is an excellent place for involuntary self-dissection, in other words. It may also be good for other things, which I’ll examine over the next few weeks. The food (no small thing) is outstanding, for example.
Bet you didn’t think I’d mention that!
Related posts:
{ 1 comment… read it below or add one }
I’m really looking forward to this new “series.” Now that your initial observations, experiences and terrors have had nine years to marinate, I’m sure you’re in a good position to purvey some real wisdom.