If innocence still lives it is in the eyes of a child named Meagan. She is a woman child, caught in that fragile instance between a young girl and a woman. She is an adolescent and naïve to what lies before her excepting the depth of wisdom in her mother’s eyes. They are so like her own, set in another face.
Meagan, she stands as a reminder for her mother and I, of all we have left behind us and all which lies ahead. She returns to us in her every breath all which we have treasured and tried to hold onto. Her searching gaze and her questions are a breath of fresh air, one to be savored and studied as our Zen teachers would tell us, to be felt as it comes and goes. She has strength where her mother is more fragile and she is blessed with the awareness of the necessity of that. She will be wiser for the wear, my own mother was fragile and I too became strong because of it.
She is a teacher even as she is still a student, the exchange of lessons will be of equal value to us both and nothing will be lost. She has already returned to me what life has tried to take away. I will give her other gifts which she can carry with her. Her mother will receive an equal share and the blessings are multiplied by three. Her mother and I were both in need of that feminine compassion which is so hard to find, and all young girls need mentors. We three can mentor each other for innocence reigns up that narrow canyon we all call home and I will bring with me adventure and experience in return.
We stood before an ancient cabin as the afternoon waned. We spoke of the history and the effort which went into the construction of the adobe and rock shelter, and of the life which had been lived there. Kelly spoke of the beauty and the mystery of the place and of how she stood inside before the roof fell in. I recounted my own experience far west of here in the San Augustin Plains and how upon deeper study of the homesteaders lives some of the romance had faded from my mind. It was a tough life, theirs. Kelly’s eyes widened a little; she had never thought of the hardships, such is the innocence she has maintained. Meagan listened to every word, their weight growing heavier in her learning.
If innocence still lives it is in the eyes of a child named Meagan. She has inherited it from her mother. One will never meet another with such a gentle spirit.
The young girls laugher
High pitched and joyful
Echoes off of the canyon walls
Like the chatter of coyotes
Exuberant and unrestrained
Free of the constrictions
Of society or domesticity
Still innocent and alive
I am so grateful
For the reminder
Of how life should be lived
Hah Hah Hah
January 4, 2014
185 Nogal Canyon Road
Bent, New Mexico
There is this book I have written, the monumental effort of a lifetime, the dream realized, the goal met, almost. It is complete in the sense that I have written it in its entirety, all four hundred pages of it. It took me the course of a year to do so, amassing the memories as I traveled the Plains even as I reflected back on the notes I made from the start. It is long and wonderful, rich with adventure and insight, a grand accomplishment at any level. It is also very good, and I have to believe saleable, even if it may not be the best seller my father would have me believe, though one can hope.
This book, I started it in 2010 and completed it in June of 2011, or thereabouts, the journey ended there and by then I was writing to the moment. That was two and a half years ago and I am only now in the final throes of completion, the last edits flowing under my hands as often as I can get to it. I might have done this sooner as I had every intention of, but life gets in the way. Working full-time and trying to secure a comfortable place to live, which required much physical effort to accomplish, took the lion’s share of my time. Beyond that I found some welcome distraction also and I would not trade the miles I walked through the mountains in search of love and elk horns for any of it. That my future dangles off the threads of my literary efforts will not alter the happiness and experience I have gained in the interim, it was a necessary exchange.
Now my book takes the forefront once again and I have set aside all my other earthly pursuits, aside from my job and my journals, to complete it. My dwelling is now secure and my desires for other things satisfied for the moment, my need to move forward dominates my thoughts. I want to finish the book for many reasons, the least being the financial possibilities though the fulfillment of that would thrill me also. It is more the need to see the effort through at this point as the process is a daunting one and has stilled my creative desires as I had always feared it would. This is an obstacle which I have created and the stumbling block of creativity, a different brand of writers block than I perceive in others and driven on fear rather than the lack of inspiration. I am always inspired! For me writing has been and always will be a joy and a pleasure, a release and a fulfillment such as only the freedom of my thoughts has been able to satisfy. It is the marketing of my work which stops me on a dime.
I have never been and never will be a commercial writer. My work comes from the heart. I write for the sheer joy of writing, for myself and for anyone who might care to hear what my words convey. It is my diary and my sounding board, my adventure through life and the hearts desires I speak of, the hopes and the dreams of one solitary person, bared upon the page. My words belong to me and everyone who might read them and profit is a sideline which, if I am so lucky, will allow me the time and the freedom to write even more. It is all I want to gain as that would be the key to my happiness. I want only to live a simple life and to have the means to do so. I have to wonder why it has been so hard to get there!
I am on the final read of my book and as it’s been from the start the insight and inspiration I draw from the adventure carries me through. I see now how precious the freedom is and what the struggle amounted to when I had to once again sacrifice that. From the moment I began the adventure which became the book I was living my dream, from the moment the adventure ended I reentered the struggle I was so trying to escape from. I have spent my entire life hoping I could write something which was worthy of publishing so as to allow me to do more of the same. I have now written it and within this coming year I will know if I have memoir or riches. Regardless of the outcome I will continue to write, and to dream, so nothing will really change. If the book can pay my way I will be thrilled, if not the effort will evolve of its own volition. Either way the book has affirmed many things. Not only am I capable of completing an effort such as it required, I also have a firm grasp on what I require for my happiness. I want to write, I want to live a life worthy of writing about, and I am doing just that.
This blog is part of the strategy I must pursue to market and publish my book. It will offer a collection of my essays and exerts for everyone to read and share. If you, my friends and friends of friends find them to be to your liking please say so, it will be your input and comments which will render the final outcome. Wish me luck!