A friend recently wrote this to me, “… as you ponder the meaning of life, don’t forget to factor in the meaning that you yourself make.” And there it is: Every single one of us has a place. We each and every one of us have an effect. I am certain. And that cannot be insignificant.
When I look back at this, now, I wonder that I was ever so certain. It stands in such stark contrast to my current pessimism. But I was positive. Enough to get me to leave my home of eight years in Utah, to buy land in a state I’d only visited once and to build a new home and a new life on my own in New Mexico.
Although Mabel was a wealthy New York heiress born in 1879, we do share this: We both came to New Mexico with rather cavalier attitudes about it.
… listening to birdsong as I hang out the laundry (the larks are back and nesting, mapping out their territories in song, so it is particularly splendid right now), the toads croaking their hearts out in the little acequia that runs through my land…
Haunted wouldn’t be a term I would use. I don’t think when one loved as much as Mabel did, when one believed in things greater than herself and was committed to creating something beautiful, something better, for those of us coming along behind, those people don’t haunt.
I just discovered there’s a lunar eclipse tomorrow morning (and a full moon which I already knew about of course), while I’m snug, high up in the sky, in my glass-walled nest. This just can’t be a coincidence, can it?
The trip was filled with ghosts and they or the land, or both, gripped my soul on this sunny New Mexico day when Kim and I journeyed back in time and experienced the conceived utopia of another era and a sense of the lives lived within it, in old houses and on ancient land.