Rides, ramblings and rants on a motorcycle.
- We are scientists, too!
3.04.2023,9:08 AM
Love and Life
We meet people and fall in love. And when we part, they leave marks for us to remember them by. Our lovers sculpt us. They define us. For better or worse. Like a pinball, we slam into them and rebound in a different direction. Propelled by the contact. And after their parting, we might be scarred. But stronger. Or more fragile or needy or angry or guilty. But never unchanged. Our lovers linger inside us like ghosts. Haunting the corridors and deserted rooms. Sometimes whispering. Sometimes screaming. Invisible but… always there. Waiting.
Perhaps after five decades, 'love' and all the
related entanglements become something one can pick up and wear for a day, like
a piece of clothing, or it becomes an old friend and companion, always at your
side but without all the frivolous ornaments that adorn younger phases. And
then for some of us it's a dog-eared well-worn book read only by ourselves,
constantly rewritten.
10.14.2022,12:21 PM
We are Light and Dark
“We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are.”
― J.K. Rowling
Labels: musings, photography, quotes
10.01.2022,6:56 AM
Wet and webbed
Webbed membranes are appearing between my fingers. Perhaps all the greens I’ve been eating have methylated some genes and turned on those that express for webbed membranes in ducks and other aquatic avians and mammals.
If I wake up with gills, I’ll know it’s time to get outa this place.
Rain has been a daily thing for many weeks, minus the outlier day or 2 when we are bedazzled with a large orb of plasma that gives us a bright blue and dry sky. When that occurs a battery inside us gets charged and we wind up to bask and dance outside.
Alas, another cool wet day, smothered in gray, and we fight the urge to curl up in a ball, letting go of awareness and consciousness. Part of our brain has closed its door and hung out a sign, “Due to inclement weather we have ceased functioning. Please feel free to become a zombie.”
So I walked to the fiber studio in the rain, picked up a coffee on the way, hung my wet clothes to dry, turned on the jazz station….And occasionally glance at my full special coffee mug. 😏
Labels: musings
3.08.2016,5:51 PM
The ghosts in music
Driving in the rain with a black and blue sky, listening to music I
have not for nearly 35 years. The music unlocked a box from which a
myriad of memories and emotions swirled around me and carried me back.
It was like hovering over myself, listening to a silent train of thoughts that years later are bitter sweet. Looking back while waiting for the future to unfold. Then hurtling forward, reliving and experiencing almost half a century. And realizing how much has changed.
It was like hovering over myself, listening to a silent train of thoughts that years later are bitter sweet. Looking back while waiting for the future to unfold. Then hurtling forward, reliving and experiencing almost half a century. And realizing how much has changed.
Some ghosts in the closet are set free, one discarded in the trash, and
a very few special ones hung on the door handle to freshen and renew.
All the while, the voice and the music still resonate, like the twinkling stars of Orion's belt in the sky. It reaffirms where I was and where I am now. A few of those ghosts I still hold close to my heart, where I can still feel the synchronized beating through the closed door.
All the while, the voice and the music still resonate, like the twinkling stars of Orion's belt in the sky. It reaffirms where I was and where I am now. A few of those ghosts I still hold close to my heart, where I can still feel the synchronized beating through the closed door.
Labels: musings
12.31.2015,9:55 PM
Years ahead, years behind
As I strolled home tonight in the dark, the whispering wind guided me. It rolled forward and back like the tides of a dry invisible ocean, soothing and calm as a baby rocking in its arms. The cold air was refreshing after an enjoyable dinner with a dozen friends, heat from the stove and food making me sleepy.
In the silence between the ebbing wind, the Milky Way caught my attention. A river of tiny lights in a universe of the unknown. Perhaps that is what makes it so magical and capturing. No birds called out; their heads tucked under their wings for the cold night. No people milling about; most inside with their merriment and libations. Only the wind, the stars, and I. And memories of past years.
Three stars in a line caught my attention and spoke to me. With a smile I remembered who this was. He is there in the sky wherever I go. "Look for the three stars in a diagonal line," I once said. "Once you see them, you will hear my voice speaking to you."
Orion was more than the hunter. He was the messenger. Many years ago.... Was it that long ago? Seven, eight years? When you looked at Orion, you knew he carried his message, too. I knew that when you looked at Orion, I had already spoken to him, standing on the gravel in front of my house in the night and talking to the stars. I knew because you told me once, that he carried a message to you.
And here I am, many years later, looking up at that belt of stars and hearing that message again. It's been so many years. But I still remember as the flood of decades and chapters of life fly by in a few moments of memories, Orion's voice is still strong. I still remember. And Orion will always remind me. No matter where I am. No matter where you are.
After all these years, those stars still whisper your name. Do you hear it, too, my friend?
Labels: musings
8.23.2015,7:23 PM
Prowling
The caged female canid leaped out and dispersed. She roamed north and explored the margins of a rural town. With no GPS or track marks, no one knew where she roamed. Nor did she mark any territory.
She lurked out of sight and watched passerbyes, but didn't linger long in one place. Slipping in and out of shadows, she explored until the heat and dust made her thirsty. Slowly she returned to her den where her own scent welcomed her.
Drinking long from cold water, I sat down and picked up a book I started last night. It was a good dusty prowl.
6.01.2015,9:36 AM
The Rule of Seven. Happy New Year, Self!
I hate the number seven. It seems that every seven years, my humanity is tested. Sometimes the trial is tough, challenging, and sometimes I fail. Trip and fall. Hit my head and have a headache for a year. But I always get up, put myself back together and carry on. The Survivor mentality.
Or, as my father used to say, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."
Last time was another test of my humanity. It wasn't as devastating as it was back in 2006. But, then again, I'm not as young as I was, either. And betrayals never get any easier to bear. Again, this was partly my own fault for forgiving an earlier transgression that I should have not have. 'Another chance,' I convinced myself. And it bit me a few years later.
"I feel like
I've been here before,
and you know,
it makes me wonder,
what's goin' on,
under the ground."
Déjà vu.
Lesson hammered home. The Void.
Yet..... if this past trial had not happened, I would not be where I am now. I am strong, happy, productive, and full of life. Living what exists now, I also know what no longer exists. And I am grateful for that. Rising from the ashes and flying with flames of rebirth. "In my pockets, I carry new-found fruits and seeds that nourish my journeys. And scatter some along my way."
Happy First Anniversary, Phoenix. Welcome back, you old wolf.
Let's go, brother Coyote. We have an adventurous road of discovery ahead of us.
“The truth is that strength lies in the interior of the Warrior: in his heart, his mind and his spirit… The heart is essential in helping the intellect to understand the spirit.” - Miyamoto Musashi, Book of Five Rings
Or, as my father used to say, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."
“By knowing things that exist, you can know that which does not exist. That is the void.” - Miyamoto Musashi
Last time was another test of my humanity. It wasn't as devastating as it was back in 2006. But, then again, I'm not as young as I was, either. And betrayals never get any easier to bear. Again, this was partly my own fault for forgiving an earlier transgression that I should have not have. 'Another chance,' I convinced myself. And it bit me a few years later.
"I feel like
I've been here before,
and you know,
it makes me wonder,
what's goin' on,
under the ground."
Déjà vu.
Lesson hammered home. The Void.
Yet..... if this past trial had not happened, I would not be where I am now. I am strong, happy, productive, and full of life. Living what exists now, I also know what no longer exists. And I am grateful for that. Rising from the ashes and flying with flames of rebirth. "In my pockets, I carry new-found fruits and seeds that nourish my journeys. And scatter some along my way."
Happy First Anniversary, Phoenix. Welcome back, you old wolf.
Let's go, brother Coyote. We have an adventurous road of discovery ahead of us.
“The truth is that strength lies in the interior of the Warrior: in his heart, his mind and his spirit… The heart is essential in helping the intellect to understand the spirit.” - Miyamoto Musashi, Book of Five Rings
1.01.2015,9:19 AM
Relative Theory of New Year's Day
The modern 'New Year's Day' is Jan. 1. The old Roman calendar's New Year was
March 1. Chinese New Year is Feb 1. My New Year is June 1.
After two+ years of personal crap, and leaving Texas, last June 1 I was finally free and alive. To me, that's cause for my own private celebration.
Y'all have a good celebration. I'll celebrate next June 1.
After two+ years of personal crap, and leaving Texas, last June 1 I was finally free and alive. To me, that's cause for my own private celebration.
Y'all have a good celebration. I'll celebrate next June 1.
Labels: musings
12.01.2014,11:29 AM
Tenth Month, Twelfth Month. What's in a Name?
Today is December 1st. Waiting for some warmth to chase away the chill in my feet (hot coffee is working on the rest of me), I was curious about the etymology of the word, 'December'. I was surprised to see the trail of alterations from the original root, decem, which is Latin for 'ten'.
'Ten' what? I discovered that December was the tenth month in the early Roman calendars, which started with March. Ah! So, New Year's Day was actually March 1!
T.G. Tucker, author of Etymological Dictionary of Latin, posits that the first five months of the Roman calendar were named for their occurrence in the agricultural cycle, and "after the gathering in of the crops, the months were merely numbered." The Latin suffix -ber was added onto the five numbered calendar months.
The first calendar was thought to be invented by the Roman king Romulus (or he took all the credit) around 760 BC. It had only ten months of 30-31 days and only lasted 304 days. Thus, 61 days were unaccounted for in the winter. I wonder if life was relatively unimportant during that time. Reminds me of the long winters in the HBO series, Game of Thrones. Perhaps the Romans went around exclaiming 'Winter is coming!' and all life stood still. More likely, all human life centered around agricultural activities and winter was ignored. At least, in calendars.
Names of the first five months in the Roman calendar were derived from names of gods and goddesses, except for February. During that time of the year was a dies februatus, Latin for the "day of purification". The Roman festival of purification was celebrated on February fifteenth, but has been long lost in history.
Now, when the enlightened French displaced the global Roman influence, december became decembre. Most of the Latin calendar names were later retained or altered in the Old English version. This early form of modern English language was developed by the Anglo-Saxons in present-day England and parts of Scotland, and persisted from the mid-5th to the mid-12th centuries.
Old English, and I could argue modern English as well, is a 'mutt' language, where most of the words were borrowed from, combined with, or were bastardized (now, that word has an interesting etymology!) forms of many tongues. The Anglo-Saxons founded Old English mostly on the West Germanic languages, vastly different from the modern English.
Indeed, if anyone had to suffer studying the epic poem Beowulf (circa 700-1000 B.C.) in its original Old English form (yes, I had to do that in high school), they might recall it was like reading a foreign language. In all essence, it was, and is. Can you imagine trying to memorize and recite it? If one considers that literacy was very uncommon in those early centuries, the poem was known more in its oral form rather than written.
Like any language, English evolved over thousands of years. Words were changed or dropped, shortened or lengthened. It's an ongoing process; grammar is simplified, and meanings change like the phases of the moon. Even pronunciation of words vary between continents and even between regions of countries. "Tomato, tomahto"; "barn and bahn"; we don't have to call the whole thing off! Like any association with self-identity, precise language usage is a relative trait of human nature. There are purists with binary black-and-white minds who insist on traditional and precise use. But there exists a huge dynamic gray world in between. Me? I consider myself a pragmatist. ;)
Regarding the month of December, the modern English name made it full circle using the original Latin name. Let's celebrate that!
Note: Bastardize is a verb derived from the well-known noun. The Old French word bastard was used for an "acknowledged child of a nobleman by a woman other than his wife, probably from fils de bast 'packsaddle son,' meaning a child conceived on an improvised bed (saddles often doubled as beds while traveling)". The term was not always demeaning; offspring from relationships non-sanctioned by the Church were common and not always discriminated against.
The word 'bastard' later assumed more derogatory meanings. The figurative sense of of the word as "something not pure or genuine" appeared in use during the late 14th century. It's popularization as a vulgar term of abuse for a man is traced back to the 1830's and sticks today.
However, the verb 'to bastardize' has been in use since the early 1500's, and figuratively means "to make degenerate, debase". We English-born people tend to do a lot of that. Even my birth-given name is a bastardization of a German name. I get some odd looks when I explain that to people. ;)
'Ten' what? I discovered that December was the tenth month in the early Roman calendars, which started with March. Ah! So, New Year's Day was actually March 1!
T.G. Tucker, author of Etymological Dictionary of Latin, posits that the first five months of the Roman calendar were named for their occurrence in the agricultural cycle, and "after the gathering in of the crops, the months were merely numbered." The Latin suffix -ber was added onto the five numbered calendar months.
The first calendar was thought to be invented by the Roman king Romulus (or he took all the credit) around 760 BC. It had only ten months of 30-31 days and only lasted 304 days. Thus, 61 days were unaccounted for in the winter. I wonder if life was relatively unimportant during that time. Reminds me of the long winters in the HBO series, Game of Thrones. Perhaps the Romans went around exclaiming 'Winter is coming!' and all life stood still. More likely, all human life centered around agricultural activities and winter was ignored. At least, in calendars.
Names of the first five months in the Roman calendar were derived from names of gods and goddesses, except for February. During that time of the year was a dies februatus, Latin for the "day of purification". The Roman festival of purification was celebrated on February fifteenth, but has been long lost in history.
Now, when the enlightened French displaced the global Roman influence, december became decembre. Most of the Latin calendar names were later retained or altered in the Old English version. This early form of modern English language was developed by the Anglo-Saxons in present-day England and parts of Scotland, and persisted from the mid-5th to the mid-12th centuries.
Old English, and I could argue modern English as well, is a 'mutt' language, where most of the words were borrowed from, combined with, or were bastardized (now, that word has an interesting etymology!) forms of many tongues. The Anglo-Saxons founded Old English mostly on the West Germanic languages, vastly different from the modern English.
Indeed, if anyone had to suffer studying the epic poem Beowulf (circa 700-1000 B.C.) in its original Old English form (yes, I had to do that in high school), they might recall it was like reading a foreign language. In all essence, it was, and is. Can you imagine trying to memorize and recite it? If one considers that literacy was very uncommon in those early centuries, the poem was known more in its oral form rather than written.
Like any language, English evolved over thousands of years. Words were changed or dropped, shortened or lengthened. It's an ongoing process; grammar is simplified, and meanings change like the phases of the moon. Even pronunciation of words vary between continents and even between regions of countries. "Tomato, tomahto"; "barn and bahn"; we don't have to call the whole thing off! Like any association with self-identity, precise language usage is a relative trait of human nature. There are purists with binary black-and-white minds who insist on traditional and precise use. But there exists a huge dynamic gray world in between. Me? I consider myself a pragmatist. ;)
Regarding the month of December, the modern English name made it full circle using the original Latin name. Let's celebrate that!
Note: Bastardize is a verb derived from the well-known noun. The Old French word bastard was used for an "acknowledged child of a nobleman by a woman other than his wife, probably from fils de bast 'packsaddle son,' meaning a child conceived on an improvised bed (saddles often doubled as beds while traveling)". The term was not always demeaning; offspring from relationships non-sanctioned by the Church were common and not always discriminated against.
The word 'bastard' later assumed more derogatory meanings. The figurative sense of of the word as "something not pure or genuine" appeared in use during the late 14th century. It's popularization as a vulgar term of abuse for a man is traced back to the 1830's and sticks today.
However, the verb 'to bastardize' has been in use since the early 1500's, and figuratively means "to make degenerate, debase". We English-born people tend to do a lot of that. Even my birth-given name is a bastardization of a German name. I get some odd looks when I explain that to people. ;)
10.12.2014,8:02 PM
How animals grow in the presence of nature
"Research suggests the cultural shift required to develop affinity for nature is closely linked to the level of independence children have when visiting natural areas. Children who design and direct their own play experiences in nature seem to have a greater understanding and confidence in natural environments than. Holden who visit under close supervision."
(And, I might add, whose visits are strictly structured)
I dare say the same applies to adults.
Go walk on the grass barefoot, pick a flower and put it in your hair. Yip with the coyotes and howl with the wolves, move like a deer, and sing like a bird. Run on the beach and climb over the rocks, beam like a full moon and shine like the stars. Hug a tree and lay on the sand with a turtle.
Immerse yourself. Touch that child inside you and live again.
(And, I might add, whose visits are strictly structured)
I dare say the same applies to adults.
Go walk on the grass barefoot, pick a flower and put it in your hair. Yip with the coyotes and howl with the wolves, move like a deer, and sing like a bird. Run on the beach and climb over the rocks, beam like a full moon and shine like the stars. Hug a tree and lay on the sand with a turtle.
Immerse yourself. Touch that child inside you and live again.
Labels: musings
6.16.2014,12:33 PM
Looking through a window
I left the box almost running through the door, ready to
throw myself through the window. I ran hard and fast, mind and heart in
turmoil, while trying to breath slow and steady. ‘Maintain, focus,’ was a
repeated mantra in my brain, while my spirit fought with my heart and my mind
as the referee.
In one corner crouched the Dark Fury yelling and exuding
anger. Bright Song huddled in the other corner with an aura of calm resolution
that soothes torrential storms. In the middle of it all, an old woman stood on shaking
ground with her palms held out to the corners. Although her balance was
precarious, each foot drew from underneath her the power of the ground that
rooted her like an ancient tree.
Dawn Treader rose in the sky and spoke to the trio, “Bend
like a willow and remain strong like the oak. Be true to yourself. Remember
that which is drawn up through your roots and nourishes the leaves. Embrace the
sunlight as it gives you life, while relinquishing to the night for rest and
rejuvenation. Let the rain wash your sorrows and failures off you, but retain
their memories as lessons that eventually form the fruit and seed. All these
become new leaves, branches and roots. These are the parts of you that enable
you to grow. Your fruit and seeds become new adventures and experiences,
shaped by all that is you. And in the shelter of your strong trunk and canopy
will those that seek peace find solace and strength. Including the spirit, the
heart, and the mind.”
As I moved further away from the box, I was able to look
back and see the past as if it were a movie in slow motion. Sometimes we can’t
see our paths because we are on them. Too caught up in beating off the pesky
bugs, avoiding slippery floors, cleaning up the spills, fielding intrusions,
trying not to trip on obstacles, polishing the surfaces and sometimes sweeping
dirt under the rugs. At times we look in the mirror and ask ourselves, “What
happened? What am I doing here? How did this happen? Why didn’t I do something
else?”. Some of us avoid mirrors.
Looking through the window of the box I saw a story unfold.
And the old woman inside began to feel the ground underneath her settle. Dark
Fury and Bright Song approached her and held her hand in theirs. A connection
formed that flowed between them, surrounded them and melded them. As a breeze
blew over them, they bent and straightened like a large thriving tree.
I turned and walked slowly away, finding my path, and
wandered on, unafraid of turns and hills. In my pockets, I carry newfound
fruits and seeds that nourish my journeys. And scatter some along my way.
Labels: musings, photography
5.11.2014,10:52 AM
Journey to the light
We all have dark sides and dark moments. But
it is our choice, and ours alone, if we choose to move towards the
light. And that light is always there; in the past, the present and the
future.
But it is the journey to the light, not just the destination, that makes that light shine so brilliant inside and out.
But it is the journey to the light, not just the destination, that makes that light shine so brilliant inside and out.
Labels: musings, photography
4.27.2014,10:47 AM
Wolf Rules for Life
General Wolf Rules for Life:
- Eat
- Rest
- Rove in between
- Render loyalty
- Love the children
- Cavil in moonlight
- Tune your ears
- Attend to the bones
- Make love
- Howl often
"If you don't go out into the woods, nothing will ever happen and your life will never begin."
- Dr. Clarissa Estes, from Women Who Run with the Wolves
2.05.2014,9:57 PM
Lessons Learned But Unheeded
...are just as bad as lessons not learned.
When we touch a hot stove and burn our fingers. When we come back later and think that another stove won't be as hot. And touch it only to burn the fingers again. Yup. That's the lesson that went unheeded.
When we touch a hot stove and burn our fingers. When we come back later and think that another stove won't be as hot. And touch it only to burn the fingers again. Yup. That's the lesson that went unheeded.
Labels: musings
,11:19 AM
A New Year, A New Beginning
The windows and door on 2013 are closed and shuttered. Turned around, waved, and walked away.
Flying with wings spread, coasting on a thermal. The flight and life is good.
Best wishes and health to all for this New Year.
Labels: musings
12.19.2013,12:10 PM
In remembrance of a friend
I was
reminded today that a year ago, a four-legged friend was laid down to
rest. Although my time with him was only the last 5 years of his life,
he and I became very good doggy friends. And we played together often.
It was heartbreaking to watch him rapidly deteriorate in his last year. But it
was time for him to go and find release from his suffering. I still
think of him whenever I see happy dogs. And I think this is the main
reason I can't bring myself to have another dog. Not yet.
I share the grief with his human that raised him from puppy-hood. It is a common bond that nothing can break.
Rest in Peace, Buck. You are buried along with that part of my heart in a place where we both loved and played together.
I share the grief with his human that raised him from puppy-hood. It is a common bond that nothing can break.
Rest in Peace, Buck. You are buried along with that part of my heart in a place where we both loved and played together.
Labels: musings
12.14.2013,8:38 AM
Fear and Trust
Sometimes life throws you a in a loop. A loop like a Ferris wheel that leaves you spinning, shrieking with delight, yet with shaky legs from uncertainty and a kind of fear that you know is built of ghosts.
Like holding a glorious eagle that you know could harm you, but when you look in its eyes you can see an honorable soul, wild in its nature and innocence.
And you know you have to trust the ride, the eagle, and yourself. And let the fear go.
Labels: musings
12.05.2013,8:06 PM
Remembrances of Christmases Past
My last Christmas (2012) was probably the worst one I remember. For several personal reasons, which will remain silent. As the season grows nearer, I find myself lapsing into a subtle state of "No, please. Not again." Little Voice under the covers wants to poke the bad memories and I try to keep it in a box with the cover pressed tightly down.
Then I happened upon an old post I wrote from a good year; 2009. I think a few readers might even remember that week and the festivities. Including a fortuitous stranger we met that week, who, with his family in Indiana, have become good friends through the years.
As I reread this post, I smiled. And the Little Voice is stuffed back in a box, buried in a hole and quieted.
In Big Bend speed and time constantly change. From the perspective of an urbanite, they both slow way down. Almost seeming to crawl or stop. To someone living here, they are merely fluid; they change all the time from very slow to flashing fast. How we see time and speed is related to what the human lenses are used to. Just remember the lenses are attached to a brain, one chock full of past experiences and expectations. It's all relative.
Here days prescribed with special meanings in the bigger world take on new meanings or none at all. Unlike the clock hung on the wall, a wrist or on a cell phone, our societies attach additional significance to certain days of the year. Along with this are specific rituals, ceremonies, and conventions. These, too, are used to measure time, speed, and each other. But in remote and isolated areas like parts of Big Bend, all those can fall away, be reconstructed with new meanings, or renewed with the origins of old meanings.
Over the decades this prescribed Holiday lost its meaning for me. To the point where I dreaded it and fled from it. The only meaning left for me was my daughter. Possibly because she represented the innocence and the goodness in the original meanings of the Holiday. It was a reason to rejoice and share.
Now that she is an adult with her own world, I find remnants of that in Big Bend and sharing it with a small group of people. Between us and for a small period of time, they become my family. All the modern trappings driven by consumerism fall away, the stress driven by work and family expectations, the harried traffic and impatient race are left behind. Even though I abandoned all that many years ago, to watch others be beaten down by it always disturbed me. Here, it is absent. Here, we share peace and good-will toward each other.
For me, the ideal of the Christmas holiday spirit is revived. I know it is completely contrived, but that adds to the enjoyment: we choose to make it this way.
Original source is a blog site from 2009: Desert Rats 2009. By yours truly.
Then I happened upon an old post I wrote from a good year; 2009. I think a few readers might even remember that week and the festivities. Including a fortuitous stranger we met that week, who, with his family in Indiana, have become good friends through the years.
As I reread this post, I smiled. And the Little Voice is stuffed back in a box, buried in a hole and quieted.
Christmas Eve Day
Time is a human construction. Although two arrows revolving around a center point are used to measure it, as we humans seem obsessed with measuring everything down to its smallest denominator, time is relative. Einstein offered a theory for Denominatorists to understand and accept, but it really is very simple. Time, speed and the observer are integral to the equation. Nor are there any real rules. Because they change as well. In time and speed. And the observer.In Big Bend speed and time constantly change. From the perspective of an urbanite, they both slow way down. Almost seeming to crawl or stop. To someone living here, they are merely fluid; they change all the time from very slow to flashing fast. How we see time and speed is related to what the human lenses are used to. Just remember the lenses are attached to a brain, one chock full of past experiences and expectations. It's all relative.
Here days prescribed with special meanings in the bigger world take on new meanings or none at all. Unlike the clock hung on the wall, a wrist or on a cell phone, our societies attach additional significance to certain days of the year. Along with this are specific rituals, ceremonies, and conventions. These, too, are used to measure time, speed, and each other. But in remote and isolated areas like parts of Big Bend, all those can fall away, be reconstructed with new meanings, or renewed with the origins of old meanings.
Over the decades this prescribed Holiday lost its meaning for me. To the point where I dreaded it and fled from it. The only meaning left for me was my daughter. Possibly because she represented the innocence and the goodness in the original meanings of the Holiday. It was a reason to rejoice and share.
Now that she is an adult with her own world, I find remnants of that in Big Bend and sharing it with a small group of people. Between us and for a small period of time, they become my family. All the modern trappings driven by consumerism fall away, the stress driven by work and family expectations, the harried traffic and impatient race are left behind. Even though I abandoned all that many years ago, to watch others be beaten down by it always disturbed me. Here, it is absent. Here, we share peace and good-will toward each other.
For me, the ideal of the Christmas holiday spirit is revived. I know it is completely contrived, but that adds to the enjoyment: we choose to make it this way.
Original source is a blog site from 2009: Desert Rats 2009. By yours truly.