Hoo boy, have I been straying far afield.
What that means is living unaware of Source. It’s almost as if I’ve been standing on the lid of my unconscious: I haven’t been dreaming, for one thing. Not a whit. And I haven’t allowed myself to play music for over a month! Every time I get an urge to play my bouzouki, something in me says “NO!” because I have to stay serious, because the alleged crises of my life demand too much attention, but really because I’m an idiot.
In retrospect, what’s astonishing is the mind’s capacity to focus too narrowly and get things wrong, even to the point of self-destruction and disaster. (While writing that, I thought of the president’s economic advisers.) Talk about killing the Goddess: several thousand years of Western denial and repression recapitulated in a few short months of a single life!
Tonight (Tuesday), after two days of not sleeping from the pain of an infected root canal and resultant ungodly disfigurement from the swelling — something I firmly believe I pulled out of the quantum soup to substantiate my state of mind — I found myself digitally flipping through 1,617 photographs I’d emailed to people over the last 10 years. In light of my recent (or merely interminable) re-examination of my whole damned life, the photographic record was remarkably fierce and moving. Here’s something I rediscovered:
That’s a scene from a solitary hike in the Wheeler Peak Wilderness from about five years ago. Given the altitude and isolation, what you’re looking at is essentially virgin forest, huge trees covered with moss, and woodland debris illuminated by a shaft of filtered sunlight. I remember that when I walked past this spot, I was instantly shaken: something else was there, you see, or maybe you don’t, because we’re trained to look the other way. But I felt a presence, an indefinable something, that was not of our everyday world. A full-blown spontaneous mystical experience, in other words. A sane man takes that for the gift it is: try to objectify it, and it slips away!
Well, I didn’t do that, but I did forget. And in remembering it now, I recall a few other periods of my life when something similar occurred. There’s a leitmotif, a consistent theme to these things, that lends a healing acceptance and cohesion, transcending all the twists and turns along the way.
It’s as if the most important reason for my existence on this earth isn’t the sum of my accomplishments or lack thereof, but just that I have noticed this “thing,” whatever it is. The Source, perhaps. Just to have felt it once a decade, even. That’s enough. I am validated! I was here, and maybe I even saw myself.
The rest of those pictures, too… what a record! What a story. What unspeakable richness of experience, the drama, the ups and downs. The absolutely STAGGERING beauty of New Mexico. The faces of my wife and cat and others we met along the way. I fucking did it. I got us here and saw again.
Tomorrow I’ll “let” myself play some music. And tonight, in the stillness behind thick adobe walls, I’ll bet I see pictures in my head.
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publishing idea: a large-format coffee-table style book of the “best” of those 1,617 photos. maybe an introductory paragraph and the occasional caption but otherwise no text at all. just a thought…..
Those are just a few of the photos I have. There are probably well over 10 times that number. Many of them aren’t high-rez enough for a large format book, either, unfortunately.
Actually, it doesn’t have to be a large format book. Small books can be equally stunning. Sometimes more so. There’s something very symbolic about grandeur committed to a tiny space … world in a grain of sand or something.
Hi John. Love the the new format! Please post an update when you have time on how the Vibe is doing. Regarding your Mt. Wheeler experience I encountered several similar experiences during my school teaching days in Thoreau, NM (5 miles east of the continental divide on I-40.) I would often take hikes to the base of the mesa that dominates the northern landscape. (This beautiful formation closely parallels I-40 from just outside Grants all the way to the border of Gallup.) As you draw nearer to the base the the slope increases dramatically, the ground is cut through with endless arroyos, the vegetation becomes quite dense, and the ground is littered with shards from the Anasazi. The wind picks up dramatically and it is spookier than all hell. I have felt that same presence, or is it essence, of which you speak! I would constantly keep looking around to see/feel it. Was it the spirits of the Ancient Ones giving warning to an intruder? I have never experienced anything like it anywhere else. Thanks for bringing back an incredible, mystical memory!
Hey Bill, thanks for stopping by! I understand your descriptions perfectly, know just what you mean.
There will be an update on the Vibe, too. Soon!