4. Listen to the wind of my soul
I am an Introvert. Some people are energized by parties and crowds. Not me. I enjoy people, one-on-one but am drained by the energy of crowds. I easily feel claustrophobic in crowds, even in fancy settings; OK, especially in fancy settings. When my surroundings are saturated with man-made things and lots of people, I have to pace myself, so I won’t just bolt. So it was that at times I had to breathe deeply, while in the crowded, fancy RV Park where I visited my friends, Bill and Jan; they are special people, and our time together was important and fun.
My bike had to remain quietly in the bed of the truck, waiting for help back in Florida. But I rode Jan’s Spyder trike (a three-wheel bike with two wheels in the front) for a couple of short trips and then took it to Tucson (about 150 miles roundtrip). It handles very differently than my motorcycle, and with time I got comfortable and then had entirely too much fun. Bill is a gifted welder who loves to play with fire; I now have a metal rack on the rear of my RV that holds my generator. Their RV Park is packed with amenities and people, which works well for Bill, Jan, and the cast of thousands who winter-over there. (There were 20 something of us on the hike at Lost Dutchman but that was do-able for me because we spread out over a large area of natural beauty). For me, being in a large, gated RV Park filled with amenities is something like being in a large condo, hotel, or subdivision, made up of RV’s. In Casa Grande, I made new friends, ate a lot of good food, and needed some quiet time, alone.
When I left Casa Grande, I headed straight to one of my favorite places – City of Rocks State Park, between Deming and Silver City, New Mexico (west of Las Cruces), to sit down and wait for my soul to catch up with me. At an elevation of 5,200 feet, the “city” is a square mile of incredible rock formations spit out by a volcano about 35 million years. Over time, erosion slowly formed sculptured columns separated by paths or lanes. As I walk in the rocks, it’s easy to find things – a fox, a face, a frog, made of rocks rather than clouds. I can’t get bored or lost (climb higher and I can see 360 degrees and find my rig).This is the park where last year the couple gave me Misty, my German Shepherd. They were very good to her but could not keep her; it’s clear she knows this land and sad because here she lost humans she loved.
There is a song by Cat Stevens that includes the lines “I listen to the wind of my soul. Where I’ll end up, well I think only God really knows.” And that’s fine. I don’t need to know. It truly is enough to be here, right now. Yesterday, my friend Marion came down from Silver City, and we hiked in the rocks, read poems, talked/listened, and enjoyed a quiet meal together. My soul is able to catch up with me here.
Today the world is gritty, raw and noisy. The winds are up and climbing; they’re between 25 and 35 MPH, popping the canvas cover over my slide out, rattling against the windows, and rocking the water in Misty’s dish. I looked out earlier to see my doormat across the dirt road; it’s now tucked under stuff in the bed of my truck. I’ve sat out high winds in an RV before, but I’m getting used to it, again. I’m glad I’m not in a tent! When a stronger gust slams into the side of the RV and flings dirt high in the air, I remind myself the wind blows like this often and I’ve never heard of an RV flipping in the desert. Plus, I’m parked nose into the wind. The forecast this afternoon is for increasing winds with gusts of 50+ MPH; winds that whirl the desert sand into dust storms capable of reducing driving visibility to zero There is no where I want or need to go, so I sit, pinned down by the winds. And “I listen to the wind of my soul.”