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.
… 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…
I’m packing a bag and some books and heading down to Taos to stay in Mabel Dodge Luhan’s old house. Really. I am. I can’t believe it myself, but it’s true.
Up here in the mountains of northern New Mexico, in an ancient village that has gone through more than its share of hardships, whose suffering would put mine to shame, two friends spent a day celebrating what it is to live.
It’s a wonder, right there for the taking, every single day, whether it be a kitchen table, a studio, a pasture, neighboring horses, the snores of contented and safe animals, someone we love, a finished painting, a painting in progress, the sun rising, the sun setting…
So, since you are my friends, a part of my family really, I’ve missed you. And although I had little to say, I wanted to share it with you anyway. And to wish you all a very happy Thanksgiving. We do, each and every one of us, have so much to be grateful for, don’t we?