Tourists just came. Video’d, took photos, looked only through their lenses and left. A quick stop. They commented at us laying here. As they walked away you could hear them say ‘very inspiring place.’ That caught my attention. Why is it inspiring to them?
It’s inspiring to me because the land is huge. Big. Vast. Mountains, hills, canyons in the distance. So much and so simple. No external noises except my pen laying down ink. The sun. The wind. The ground I lay on and the view of how this incredible earth has settled over the thousands, no… millions of years.
There’s a turkey vulture above playing in the thermals, doing circles above us. An agave flower dances with the breezes rhythm. Thinking of my friends. My distance from them. Yet how close to my heart they are. How cell phones don’t do friendship justice. How words written for permanence or a true embrace can do so much more. Life as a vagabond doesn’t help the ease of friendship – it’s so much richer when human contact exists. Hope they know how much they mean to me. Motivate me. Make me want to be a better person. They represent so much good. I’d love to promote them to the world, yet selfishly keep them hidden treasures.
There isn’t a sunrise, a hill climb, song on the radio, mountain view or gust of wind that goes by without the thought of them. I am who I am because of who they are. (sigh) That takes my breath away. Stops me. Memories are racing, making me smile.
Life, is as rich as you want it to be – it’s the definition of your treasure that sends us all on different maps.