The deep parts of my life pour onward,
as if the river shores were opening out.
It seems that things are more like me now,
That I can see farther into paintings.
I feel closer to what language can’t reach.
With my senses, as with birds, I climb
into the windy heaven, out of the oak,
in the ponds broken off from the sky
my falling sinks, as if standing on fishes.

- Rainer Maria Rilke

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Yesterday was warm, in the mid 50s, and our ice field of a driveway has now turned into a small lake. Last night Shane and I took a long walk of maybe two miles or so around the neighborhood. The air was light and crisp, the breeze rattling chimes at various points of earshot in the distance as we walked. About halfway through, we stopped and did some deep stretching for awhile, twisting ourselves into convoluted positions there in the middle of the muddy, pitch black road.

Later we laid down on the dirt and took the whole world in, until approaching headlights quickly deported us back to the roadside.

Posted by tee in de la vida
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When I was young I searched to connect
with things to accomplish.
People to impact, lives to change.
Mountains to move and
landscapes to conquer.
Words and images to express
and moments to experience.
And though I thought it was I
doing the shaping, I discover
I am being shaped.
I am grown today for the places
I have sought and found, and for the lives
I’ve crossed and paths I wandered.
My eyes and hands and breath
don’t add to the world as much
as they catch tiny drops and sparks
to bring back to me.

When I was young I searched to connect
with things to accomplish.
As I grow, I tend to search instead
to connect with that which has
accomplished me.

Posted by tee in verse
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Stepping off the plane in Phoenix, having only left Santa Fe a few hours earlier, the climate differences were clear: I had overdressed. The gloves got tucked in my camera bag, but I had nothing inconspicuous to do with the winter scarf, so I endured it as a matter of sacrificial decoration and hailed my taxi.The in-air conversation was good between reading, despite being sandwiched between two people in a middle seat. A self-proclaimed hippie from southern Michigan had the window and a semi-retired farmer from Indiana, who now logs an average of 10,000 miles a month delivering motor homes around the country, had the aisle. Between the three of us, we compared notes on coyote behavior and rest stops east of Amarillo.

On the way to the resort my cab broke down and we were forced to turn back and drive the whining, wobbly vehicle back to switch cabs - which happened so quickly and seamlessly that I didn’t even realized we’d changed drivers too until we were halfway there again. But it saved me the $7 in fare we’d racked up already before breaking down, and I arrived for the meeting with 45 seconds to spare  so I thanked the driver much, handed over an extra $5 and wished he and the doorman happy holidays before wandering inside to find the lady in the black sweater.

The meeting itself was short, a formality I imagine. I was back at the airport within an hour and left with three hours to wait. Grabbed some dinner — Paradise Bakery and Cafe’s club croissants, if you ever find yourself waiting at the Phoenix terminal, are worth the $6 and then some — made some calls and then relaxed in an empty row of seats awash with the sunset and read some more until boarding call.

The flight home was less eventful, and I drove The I-25 home with frozen apple juice that even in 30 degree weather was refreshing.

Today, everything’s new.

Posted by tee in wandering
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That was a great meteor shower. Best since the Leonids of 2001.

Somehow it’s a recurring theme (stemming our very first “date” together) for Shane and I to find ourselves out in the middle of a great wide nowhere, freezing and shivering under a twinkling milky way, watching meteors streak through the sky.

Posted by tee in de la vida
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