Life on the road offers many opportunities to experience being all in one place at the same time. I treasure this state of mind and call this being in the flow. In my experience, it opens a lot of my soul-doors. I’ve been delighting in this state for some time.
But every flow has an opposing ebb.
This morning my spirit ebbed. It was uncomfortable, and I remember it from last year. In the blink of an eye, I had left Picketpost Mountain. For a time, I was uncomfortably not here.
It’s hard to be all in the same place at the same time.
The whole cycle of ebbing and flowing begins with a certain tension as you first prepare to leave a place. As your mind toys with the idea of a journey “away,” the spirit gets excited and runs ahead. It’s difficult to focus on the moment when the spirit is calling the body to join it!
Our friends and loved ones speak to us, but it’s hard to hear them. Sleep is restless; our spirit makes night-noises, leaving us upright in our beds, waiting for the next bump.
If our body decides to join our spirit, there is usually a time of being present in the experience. I’ve been delighting in that place. But eventually the spirit-tide pulls us back to where we camefrom. It might take a year, or it might take a lifetime, but it eventually pulls. If this place is a heart-home, the energy to return always seems to have more force!
Today I felt that force as I spent time planning upcoming time with the kids. Time spent talking with friends and neighbours back home, in preparation for work that will be on the land added to the energy. It’s not time to go home yet but I recognize the tension building. I have passed the half way point in my journey, and soon my spirit will ride a tide-horse, and take me home.
But it’s not that time yet.
The sun rising over Picketpost Mountain is my alarm clock and I am inspired to cook. I always eat so much better in company.
This morning it’s “Mexican Eggs;” scrambled with sautéed onion, pepper and tomatoes, tossed with Mexican cheese and wrapped in corn tortillas. Refried beans and hot sauce on the side. We eat quietly, absorbing the sun and drinking our surroundings.
We spend the entire afternoon at the Arboretum, where we take in the Australian exhibit and walk the gorge. Even cacti, whose growth seems so slow, change in subtle ways each day with the force of spring and changing light.
I am increasingly delighting in the thrill of photographing the birds of the desert, and caught this fellow – a male cardinal – posing in a dense tree.
Despite having already walked for three hours, we couldn’t pass on an opportunity to join Sue for a dusk-walk through Arnett Canyon.
I work at harnessing my attention and taking in the changing shapes and shadows in the rocks. I hear the silence of the saguaro beneath the twittering of birds discussing possible resting places for the evening. I am thankful for the companionship of my friends.
Night falls, and I know I will sleep deeply and peacefully. Spirit and body once again united, even as the tide begins to gather the necessary energy to turn.