Who has walked this path before me?
How many through the ages have covered this very ground where I now journey – have stood here from this exact point in space – watching the storm move in, waiting for the boats to return, contemplating how they would possibly feed their family, professing their undying love in eloquent rehearsal, enjoying the heat of a bonfire, wondering how they would ever get back to the main land, enjoying the pure rush of it all – embracing the scenery, the salt on their lips – the wind kicking up their hair that makes their eyes water, grasping the last flicker of courage to plunge into the cold, not being able to endure another day- moving ferociously, alarmingly underneath and then acquiescently transporting beyond, reaching finally the new land where they will begin again, frolicking in the waves at the water’s edge carelessly watching their castles get leveled, dying for their heartfelt beliefs after a nameless battle…What were they doing.. what were they thinking, what did they look like, how did they feel? Who did they love, who were they fighting, what were they in the process of creating, or what did they live to destroy. What brought them inexplicable joy, and filled their souls with unsurmountable fear?

So many memories stored in the earth. If I take my shoes off and stand very still, I can feel their thoughts and uttered words swirling within and around me. I feel what they feel, I become one with their fibers, their waves, moving in, spiraling around and fluttering out of their being, I see what they see – what lay before them, and what they could be running from, I hear what they hear, the loudest shrillest sirens, the deepest core wrenching horns, the softest most uplifting lilting hum. Some beckon me to move away from the painful spot and some encourage me to stay and revel for as long as possible, all dependent on the quality of the memory that that space in time held for them.

Sometimes when taking long drives through the desert, I find myself wondering if there is a spot out there on the side of the road that has never been touched by a human sole – completely free of any imprint whatsoever. I asked Louis what he thought, his reply, “of course, there are many”.
Maybe if I stood out there in the wilderness of the desert, instead of human stories I would feel tumbleweed stories, or scorpion stories, or sidewinders weaving their tales, or coyotes calling from one end of the horizon to the other, and I would then know the many reasons for their howl.
But I usually don’t get out of the car at these desolate looking points along the highway.

Things can change significantly from one moment to the next, as we know nothing is more constant than change.
Now my mind wanders to how many trillions of experiences happen during one moment in time. These moments, these seconds-long patches of life have such full and rich histories, and while one moment can be the absolute most blessed of someone’s entire life, that very same moment could be ripping someone else’s completely to shreds.

It fascinates me. I want to feel the moments of that spot I am standing. I want to feel the joy, the pain, hear the thoughts, absorb the lives, get a full education, learn real history…and then I want to leave un-turbulently, in peace, a gentle, respectful, and unassuming and inviting imprint of my own.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, July 28th, 2009 at 9:27 am and is filed under Ramblings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.