Don’t think everything in Taos is deep, meaningful, or expensive. Oh, no.
Earlier this evening my wife and I were sitting quietly in the living room. One of us said something about the cat. (She is a lovely creature, is she not?) An even quieter period ensued as we watched her slowly walk across the room to have a drink of water from a bowl. Cheap entertainment, by God. Either that or it’s because I’m old. This is what it’s come to, then, watching the cat go walk across the room. Your cat-in-the-barrel may be one thing, but hey—I mean, I liked it.
So that’s one thing you can do for fun. Yesterday we tried another, going walking at the Taos Eco Park. I’m not sure why they call it that. There’s a nice big soccer field with artificial turf and a path that goes by dead trees someone forgot to water. The green color of the field was soothing until I realized it was plastic. After a guy on roller blades lapped us six times on one turn around the track, we went walking out on Salazar. There were wildflowers growing along the sidewalk, prairie dogs, and patches of real grass. Nothing “eco,” though. Too bad!
A better thing to do is go hiking way out by the gorge. There’s a trail that goes along the South Rim, so you don’t have to walk across the actual bridge, like that person’s doing in the picture. When cars and trucks drive by, the damn thing bounces. There’s just a little railing, and the Rio Grande is 800 feet straight down. It isn’t very deep, either. Some folks figure this out and use the bridge for something else, which is why I recommend the trail. The urge to fly can still awaken at a moment’s notice, but no one would know you’d done it there. I shouldn’t joke about this. Eh well. But it is another thing to do, and arguably cheap. (Now you see how I have fun, and next I’ll work on my apology.)
The Rim Trail goes for miles and miles. You can walk damn near forever. If you make it back alive, you might consider going out for breakfast. My wife doesn’t know this, but when we sat down at Doc Martin’s the other morning, a turquoise ’54 Studebaker truck drove around the block at least three times…
You don’t see things like that just anywhere, and it’s almost as good as watching the cat.
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{ 17 comments… read them below or add one }
Here in Arkansas, we like to watch the ants march around. If you are lucky enough to have chickens, you can be entertained for hours. Clouds are good, too. Seriously.
Clouds? You have clouds! Not just the unrelenting beating down of the damn hot sun?!? I feel like the wicked witch of the west – I’m melting………..supposed to be 112 here today. Came home yesterday and our patio thermometer said 118. Yes, it was in the direct sun, but so was my husband working on a lady’s air conditioner yesterday. Sometimes Oklahoma just sucks. Well, actually it sucks a lot of the time, but now is particularly sucky.
Picture grandma and grandpa having a beverage in the yard and giggling at the cats and kittens. That was yesterday at happy hour.
Sherry – Well, no clouds today. I don’t have AC, so it is a challenge, but I am treating it like a game. So far I’m still alive. It was 90 in the house at 6 this morning. Guess I’ll go sit in the tub since I don’t have a creek, and pray for clouds.
At this moment (1:13 p.m. MDT), it’s 75 °F in the shade outside and 66 °F at my desk, with all the doors and windows open…
silicon valley currently: 70s, sunny, mild, perfect.
If I get to sit anywhere and get caught in light on trees/buildings/walls, or my cat taking time to decide where exactly it will crap on the woodpile, or all the lights coming on in neighbours’ homes as it gets dark around 9.30 and a hundred other things which move the heart and in which I lose myself, then I know I’ve attained that state so necessary to human sanity called Be Here Now. Richard Alpert wrote that in 1970 in a commune near the gorge just down the road from you. Enjoy. And thanks for the gorge views. I loved it when I was there. A natural born thriller.
Good to hear from you. I bought that book many years ago when it was new.
I no longer have it, for some reason.
I wish this post were more authentic, though. Seems like everything I’ve written for the past year is so forced. I’m dead in the water on my larger projects, probably need to shut up until something comes walking through the door.
I get that. Usually after I’ve drained myself out and I think you’ve done that. The Tucson episode and all that sturm und drang, serious stuff though, sounds as if I’m joking but I’m not. You went through it, all passion spent now, good you’re looking at the cat, it needs to be simple so that you can recover. So yes, I know what that inauthentic feeling’s like, like you’re going through the motions, saying the right words, but no flame driving them. It will come back, pardner. Enjoy counting the fleas, too. How d’you think someone got ‘em trained up for circuses?
Tucson is still ongoing, of course. We’ll be going back there in a couple of weeks to do more cleaning out of stupid mobile homes. I hate Tucson with a passion. When I blog from there, it will be more authentic.
“I’m dead in the water on my larger projects…”
you and me both, man! i’m dealing with all the emotional blowback from both my parents passing away late last year, so idleness and distraction seem to be the order of the day, while The Rig (my massive pile of synthesizers, computers, etc) sits idle. at least you have this blog as an outlet, however “forced” and inauthentic – i’m just simmering quietly all to myself, though it’s not a big deal; for me what i’m going through is a private process that i wouldn’t want to publicly expose – you’ve got Serious Balls to share your traumas and raw creative process with the world!
Fortunately, I feel a stirring just about now…
Authenticity is an elusive goal. Once you start to think too much about achieving it – whatever it is – it evaporates on you rather quickly. As Nietzsche said, “we can only think about what is already dead in our hearts”. That’s a little too brutal for me. We’re thinking all the time, and our hearts can’t feel or intuit or whatever they do without the guidance of the thinking part of us. How about this for a proposition? – When thought, feeling and action are all working together, then you’ve got a unified – dare I say authentic – human being. That’s a goal all right, but a distant one for the likes of most of us.
being “in the moment” and “authentic” are crucial – i find it always to be the case with my music (when i actually *do* my music – see my comment to John above about my idle Rig). the best stuff happens when i’m *not* thinking about it, and just getting caught up in the creative flow of the “now” – as soon as i start to second guess what i’m doing i stumble and lose the Groove. in an old interview from 30 years ago Vangelis (Greek musician & synthesist; “Chariots of Fire”, “Blade Runner”) talked about how important the pedals are to playing a piano, calling them “the breath of the piano” and how if you think about it too much “you choke”.
(btw Ken, this is the former “Number 6″ – i comment under my own name now – i’ve escaped from The Village… though of course you never really escape…
“I am not a number, I am a free man!”)
You were fine as a number, my friend, but you seem realer as a guy with a name. I think I would have smoked you out pretty quickly anyhow, but thanks for the heads up.
by the way ,I LOVE it when the bridge bounces
makes me feel alive!
my favorite is laying on the couch (when not feeling well) for several hours at a time watching the sun move across the room.