A Rabbit Hole Within a Rabbit Hole

Rabbits are pretty smart little guys. They burrow, creating a system of tunnels having nesting areas, running areas, and emergency exits. If they colonize and link up their tunnels, then the “Rabbit Holes” become what is called a “Warren.”

And apparently, I stumbled into one of these Warrens as I was attempting to write about a different Rabbit Hole related to my recent days along the Southern Border, and then I remembered another experience I had below that border, and my fingers took off across the Keyboards telling that story.

So let’s travel back in n time about, oh say, forty-three years or so . . .

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Besieged

To begin with, I’m not going to be talking about the recent, failed, siege of the US Capitol.  The title of my post was chosen long before the attempted coup, so it’s sort of coincidental in terms of what unfolded in Washington, DC before I got around to finishing this post.  No, Trump, and his crew of delusional confederates is a subject for another day, or perhaps even another year, once the historians and psychiatrists get a chance to break it all down.

Humm, I wonder just what in the hell schools are teaching nowadays in terms of history?  I sure know that they no longer teach civics because it’s pretty clear that a lot of folks in this country have absolutely no clue how their government is supposed to work, nor do they have an even basic understanding of the Constitution.  Oh well.

So back-tracking to my original draft:

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Wondrous Souls – Triad

Note: Since this is a continuation of the first and second post in this series (“Wondrous Souls,” & “Wondrous Souls – Dyad”) I’ve begun with the last few lines of the second post to kick this one off. To try to keep you in the rhythm of the story without you having to refer back to the previous post.

***

It was truly a trading of energies, and we painted images in each other’s minds with the words we spoke.  And I believe revealed our Souls.  Our true essence.

That has a lasting effect on you.  And it certainly has with me.  It gives you hope for all of humanity.    

One thing she told me about being on those long trails, like the PCT, the Continental Divide Trail and the Appalachian Trail – known as the Big Three – you never have to explain yourself.  

Everyone on those trails has an innate understanding of the ardor of the Soul being activated there.

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Wondrous Souls – Dyad

Note: Since this is a continuation of the first post “Wondrous Souls,” I’ve begun with the last paragraph of that post to kick this one off. To try to keep you in the rhythm of the story without you having to refer back to that post.

***

I was blessed to run into a few of these shining Souls during my travels this past Summer. I’ve experienced bad ones as well, but that’s another story for another day. And if I’m choosing definitions, I take door number three, or at least a part of it – “emotional or intellectual energy or intensity.” But instead of this intensity being revealed in some other tangible art form, I would say this energy is, as definition number four implies, embodied in those people. I would equate these good Souls with Fine Art! Literally. Because meeting such people awakens something inside yourself and you make contact on an entirely different level.

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Wondrous Souls

Intro Note: I figured after my last post, which was critical of certain human behaviors, that it would good to balance that out and write a piece focusing on the good you encounter when meeting certain Souls. 🙂

***

It’s hard for me to imagine that sixty plus years have flown by.  Day-by-day, we march on.  At first enjoying the freedom that comes with having parents watching over us.  Our only responsibility being to grow, explore, and learn. Then we leave the nest and become involved in whatever, hoping to return to that freedom someday.   Somehow.  Recapture that innocence.  Where our Souls are not bound.  Not tethered to material demands.

Sadly, it doesn’t always happen in a lifetime. 

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Boquillas !!! Hayarokwetu & Tʉmarʉhkaitʉ

When I began writing this series, I had no idea the words would just keep on flowing beyond a single post.  But, hey, that’s OK.  I’ve enjoyed the writing, and we finally made it to that point in the story where I get to talk about my favorite little town along the “Grand and Turbid River to the North.”  A town I actually never set foot in. 

It was, as you may guess from the titles, Boquillas del Carmen otherwise known as Boquillas !!!

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Boquillas !!! Pahiitʉ

Now, there are a number of areas in the States that are “Big Sky Country.”   And Big Bend is one of those places.* Where the horizons stretch on forever.  A vast expanse.  It’s difficult to tell where the Earth ends and the Sky begins. 

It is a mirage within a mirage. 

The only thing offering a tethering to the ground in Big Bend are the Chisos Mountains.  They break the joint between skyline and chaparral and provide definition.  They restore the sense of gravity that would otherwise vanish completely.

In these places we get that duality of striking beauty mixed with the desolate and dangerous.  It’s enchanting and alluring here, but there is deception because if you’re not careful you could easily die from the elements. 

The population is sparse for obvious reasons.

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“And Once the Storm is Over . . .”

“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.” ― Haruki Murakami

Photo: A desert sunset at the “Big Bend.”

Boquillas!!! Dos

When I arrived at Big Bend, half of the National Park, as well as the River running through it, remained closed to us humans due to COVID.  But, nearby Big Bend Ranch State Park, and the section of the River running through it, were still running wild and free.  No restrictions. And as I have learned in the past, one of the best vantage points to take in such alluring scenery is on the River that runs through it.  

I had booked a day-trip and was joined by two other passengers to embark on a leisurely Oar Raft tour meandering through the River’s Colorado Canyon. 

While most of my adventures involve hiking, or utilizing some other mode of travel like river rafting or horseback riding, through the wilderness, another very important part of this exploration, and of every escapade of mine, is a perusal through, and the translation of, the words describing the back country I’m reconnoitering.  (Whew! That was a big sentence.) The words themselves can relay vital pieces of history or give you some historical context. 

Or not.  😊 

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Boquillas !!!

I was climbing higher, but my body still seemed reasonably acclimated.  For the past four months I had hiked in elevations ranging from being on the beaches of the Pacific Ocean up to 9000 feet above sea level.  My breathing was slightly taxed, but the air was cooling and becoming soothing, almost methylating, as I lumbered higher through the perfumes of Rose-Fruited Junipers, Honey Mesquites, Scrub Oak, Piñon Pine, Texas Madrone, and Manzanitas.  Their redolence encircling the trail as I approached 6850 feet, a 1200-foot elevation gain from where the trailhead began. 

The desert floor beneath me stretches to eternity.  You can easily see 100 miles or more across the horizon in all directions from the top of the Lost Mine Trail in the Chisos Mountains.  The innumerable red, orange, brown, and lavender hues paint the mountainous landscape.  

A watercolor wonderland.  

Sky Islands floating above what seems like a completely barren reddish-yellow-beige terrain. But that view of what’s beneath is as deceiving as this mountain range is enchanting. 

Regardless if this cordillera derived its name from the Native American word “Chisos,” meaning “ghost” or “spirit,” or if “Chisos” came from the Castilian “hechizos,” meaning “enchantment,” you’ll feel an enduring presence in these mountains.  The Ancestors are still here in this once favored stronghold of the Mescalero, Apache, and the Comanche.  Sharing space and time with the Black Bears, Roadrunners, Javelinas, Ravens, Mule Deer, Mountain Lions, Hawks and Vultures, Coyotes, Horned and Earless Lizards, Rattlesnakes, and Tarantulas.  

And there is so much More. 

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Why Do We Blog ?

Right now I’m working on several posts, and in one in particular I ran across an interesting diversion. So I’m not yet sure where that story will take me. Or you later once I post it. 🙂

I the mean time, I figured I should write a post about why I started blogging. Or just writing in general. I think this one came from a writing prompt a while back and I simply forgot to post my response.

So here goes . . .

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