Working Artist on the High Road to Taos
This fear feels so old. Its birthing place nestled within the ancient history of man I’m thinking. We all must carry it, some sort of constantly on-guard defense system that will make us ready when the inevitable strike comes.
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.
Isabro seemed to embody the spirit of what used to be, bearing history and the generations, in his bones. He was of this place. He was ancient and he was a child. A force of nature.
“Take your time… Don’t live too fast, Troubles will come and they will pass… All that you need, is in your soul… Be a simple man. Be something you love and understand…”
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.
Nick is the kind of guy who is all too rare these days. He loves his work, he’s very smart and good at what he does, and he’s honest. His office walls are covered with thank you letters and photos from grateful clients who found themselves in trouble out in the middle of the Utah desert and who, like us, were saved by Nick.
It was something I could believe in back when I didn’t know enough to believe in myself–when I didn’t know that I am, in fact, that woman (as so many of us are) who found it within herself to recreate a life, one with meaning and purpose, by herself and for herself.
