With uncertainty in his voice, he weighed his predicament on the scales of my voluntary listening: he and his friend were in need of food for their journey back to somewhere in Arizona. Feeling content with my supple snack, I offered what I had - cheese, crackers, but oddly not the spinach. He accepted them with seeming gratefulness and told me his name. I replied with mine and bid him luck on his journey home. Not 30 minutes later, while out and about walking towards downtown I spotted his familiar figure and attire from across the street as he and his friend came walking out of the liquor store.
I'll stop the story there for I do not desire to finish, nor even speculate what could be the ending. Life itself is already written.
Freedom has been making a great companion lately - as great as any mainly inanimate object can. I've found my last few days in Durango to be necessarily easy. After a week in the Moab desert, riding mountain bikes until my behind hurts, I've found my presence back here in this mountain town to be blissful. Though, camping in the desert - with all the surprises of spring weather - was something worth experiencing.
|Freedom in the desert? Sure thing|
The La Sal Mountains, often seen from a high perch upon the canyon rim or in the open, even keel of the plateau, beckon admiring gazes long and deep upon their still wintry flanks. Named for their appearance to the Conquistadors, who thought that they must be made of salt, for nothing so near the oppressively dry heat of the desert could be holding snow. I admire this notion, as I appreciate the still Spring temperatures of the desert landscape.
|The La Sals, days before being a late Spring snow covered them.|
Hmm, speaking of experiences - how grateful it is to be alive. To share smiles and laughs with my dear friend Ben Johnson and his new lady-friend Lisa this past week in Moab. To meet and get to know Andy and Robbie from Crested Butte as they celebrated the end of the winter season along with Ben, Lisa, and I. To acknowledge that I, too, am searching - or waiting rather - for this deeper feeling of connection. A recognition that what I possess and offer is appreciated and desired in a mirrored plane by her on the other side of the equation. But, perhaps that desire is not in my path quite yet.
Life is still too unsure to be known. What I do know, though, is that my van has become a home of mobile ability that houses, transports, and stores all of what I seemingly need. I am appreciative for this machine that surely is opening me and my love for life in subtle ways.
The life of a dirtbag is a dream never had, only a reality lived.
To you in your day: may love permeate you in your darkest reaches; may the sun be a reminder of the bliss that life and being alive is.
I love you all,
|A desert cactus in bloom, Joshua Tree National Park, CA|