WITH RW ON FIRE AGAIN THIS SUMMER
I HAVE GROWN TO APPRECIATE THE SOLO ROAD TRIP.
IMMENSELY.
THIS WEEKEND PAST, I VENTURED OUT TO THE CITY OF ROCKS, HERE IN IDAHO.
TOP NOTCH GRANITE.
ROPES.
SKIN.
SUN.
STONE.
I TOOK A MOMENT TO TOUCH A PIECE OF HOME, ON THE WAY. THE COMBINES WERE RUNNING FULL FORCE OUT IN THE VALLEY AND I WEPT AS I WATCHED THEIR SLOW CUT KICK UP DUST AND THE STEADY SPEW OF THEIR GOLDEN GRAIN, CHAFF FREE, INTO THE BEDS OF GRAIN TRUCKS. I PULLED OFF THE HIGHWAY AND BURIED MY SENSES IN THE FIELDS. LONGING FOR HOME. INTENSE FEELINGS ASSUAGED BY SIMPLY GRASPING ONTO BLOND STALKS IN THE EVENING SUNLIGHT.
WHEN I DRIVE A DISTANCE, ALONE, I BEGIN TO FEEL RECKLESS. THERE’S A WILDNESS THAT SURFACES. I ROLL THE WINDOWS DOWN. DRIVE TOO FAST AROUND CORNERS. PLAY MY MUSIC TOO LOUD. I WANT A VICE OR TWO. I CONSIDER BUYING CIGARETTES. IT’S THE WILDNESS OF THE WIND IN MY HAIR AND THE OPEN ROAD BEFORE ME THAT DOES IT…
AND THEN THE CITY OF ROCKS APPEARED.
SOLID AND STEADY IN THE EVENING LIGHT.
An anchor.
AND THE HOMESTEAD I DAYDREAM ABOUT
MADE A RUSTIC SILHOUETTE AGAINST THE BURN
OF THE EVENING SKY.
THEN CAME THE MEETING WITH FRIENDS. CLAMBERING ABOUT. HEADLAMPS ON BRIGHT UP THE BACKSIDE CLIMB TO THE TOP OF BATH ROCK AND LAUGHTER AND THOUGHTFULNESS AND HOWLING AT THE MOON AND THE SINGING OF OLD TIME MUSIC UP AGAINST THE NIGHT SKY. THE COYOTES SANG WITH US. THE GRANITE HELD THE HEAT OF THE DAY. WE SCRAMBLED DOWN INTO OUR BEDS AND SLEPT FULL. LONG. SLEEPS.
I FINALLY OPENED MY EYES TO THIS GRANITE PARADISE.
THE TOO WARM WARMTH OF THE SUN ON RW’S SLEEPING BAG (IN THE RUSH TO LEAVE, I COULDN’T FIND MINE AND HAD TO USE HIS…..IT SMELLED OF HIM — the perfect lullaby). THE QUIET CRUMBLE OF GRANITE CRYSTALS BENEATH ME AND THE VALLEY BELOW MY ROCK. [MY SALVATION?]
A FEW PITCHES AND LAUGHS LATER….
WE FOUND GERALD.
THE POOR CHIPMUNK WALKED RIGHT OFF THE SIDE OF A CLIFF…OR AT LEAST WE DEDUCED HE MET HIS END THIS WAY.
EM WAS BRAVE ENOUGH TO PICK UP HIS SMALL FRAME WITH A PAIR OF PINE CHOP STICKS (WE’RE SO INSENSITIVE AREN’T WE?). FEAR NOT. WE GAVE HIM A PROPER BURIAL….AFTER WE CLIMBED THE ROUTE WE FOUND HIM ON.
AND THEN ROPES AND A DREADFUL APPROACH HIKE IN THE BLAZING SUN.
…AND THE IMMACULATE VIEW ATOP JACOB’S THUMB BEFORE THE THUNDER AND LIGHTNING CHASED US DOWN. WE RAPPELLED FAST. HOT BELAY DEVICES, SINUOUS ROPES, BARE FEET ON SHARP GRANITE.
AND COLD BEER, CRACKERS AND CHEESE AT OUR CAMPSITE.
THEN THE CAPTURING OF BLUE.
[WINDHOVER, YOU’LL LOVE THIS…]
[FOR BEING SO LARGE IN SPIRIT, I SURELY AM SMALL IN BODY…]
MY GIRLS AND I IN OUR LITTLE HOLE. PERFECT FOR SLEEPING THREE, FOR LISTENING TO THE EVENING MUSIC OF THE VALLEY (SUPPLIED BY COYOTES) AND FOR WATCHING THE RISE OF A BLUE MOON OVER GRANITE.
AND STILL,
IN THE MORNING,
MORE SHADES OF BLUE:
FEELING SUNKISSED AND CONNECTING WITH THE SURFACES (and depths) OF THINGS
IN THIS TIME
AND THIS SPACE:
THINGS ARE RARELY THE SAME TWICE.
THIS GRANITE WILL BE WORN MORE THIN NEXT TIME I VISIT;
NEXT TIME I GRASP ONTO IT AND PULL DOWN.
AND THAT’S HOW LIFE SHOULD BE LIVED!
IN THE HOLINESS OF A TIME AND SPACE — KNOWING THAT IT’S A SACRED MOMENT. CONNECTING WITH IT FULLY BEFORE IT WASHES AWAY IN THE SANDS OF TIME.
AND THANKS TO YOU FOR ALLOWING ME A WEEKEND AWAY.
MY PERSONAL SPACE IS SACRED.
I NEED IT
TO REBUILD AND REFOCUS.
I NEED IT TO FEEL CONNECTED AT ALL THE BENDS OF MY MIND.
AND MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE, I NEED IT IN ORDER TO CREATE.
LOVE AND THANKS TO YOU,
JSL
