Real or Illusion?

These past weeks, as I explore more of Arizona*, I fall into the impressions of those beings who have traveled before me; I sense the spirits of the native tribes, the pioneers, the average people, and the many wondrous creatures of the desert who experienced their passages.

Contrast the sensations of walking Tombstone  -- 

"A phantom bullet whizzed by my head and spectral puddles of blood blotched the desert skin like the pox as I trod the streets of Tombstone a century after its hey-day. Yet beneath the crass commercialism and tourist-trap stores, enhanced or at least invigorated somewhat by staged gunfights and corner pitchmen offering wagon rides with or without  spiels on the infamous of the town, I could sense the struggle, the haunting faces of the regular people who only desired to feed themselves or family and who tried to stay out of the way of the power struggles of wealthy, influential and often violent men of the times. This was a town once full of saloons, adventurers, and painted ladies, and their ghostly breaths scratch and drift like tumbleweeds across my aura, tingling." 

or strolling Old Tucson Studios

"Walk the sand that holds within its depths the footprints of entertainers, of actors who brought the stories to technicolor life. Walk down the streets, view the facades, touch the weathered wood and crumbling adobe that was once sensed by those familiar faces of old. Ghosts but not because they lived the stories--they didn’t bleed and love and suffer what I saw on the screen. Rather, they absorbed the essence of their characters, portrayed many lives, and now these buildings and creaking wooden sidewalks speak of how all life is tied together. How we connect through our stories and feel the vibrations that linger within the dirt beneath our feet and soar in the sky overhead. These elements hold the past, present and future. Not as archeological dig but of memory and story. The air seems to carry the echoes of all these voices who spoke their lines and told the stories." 

What is real and what is illusion?

Or go deep into the mountain that shelters the Queen Mine.

"Tunnels into a mountain, horizontal or digging down in vertical shafts.

Like leaning over and falling into Her depths.

Stretching our meager reserves to push further into Her core.

Backward-birthing to return to the dark and recover the pure shine of precious gems and metals that remind us of our own light within.

Does it feel like acupuncture to Her?

We think we go so deep and yet we barely graze the surface of Her skin.

Thank goodness our efforts are shallow."

Drive the wide-open desert-meadows (who knew?!) of Sonoita-Elgin.

"Pale brown stalks of prairie-like grass roll and sway gently all the way to the horizon where only moments before there was cactus--now gone. The pale green of yucca dot some of the blond fields ... acres and miles of unexpected softness. A pocket of pillows plopped into the desert just to be different yet again!" 

photo courtesy Sonoita, AZ You'll Like It Here

Soar within the world of the remarkable Harris' Hawks
at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum.

... we can only soar in our conscious awareness 

and imagination--that is where we humans are able to enjoy ‘free flight.’

I am finding Arizona to be an entire country in and of itself as there is so much to see and do; I can choose to explore physically or to be in stillness within each presentation of diversity. The above are linked to my usual lengthier 'stream-scapes' (stream of consciousness writing style) on my other web site; if you are so inclined--enjoy!

And I made a new friend, too! Isn't he adorable?

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* My mom is staying nearby for two months with a friend so, since they both enjoy exploring, we are doing far more in a shorter time than I would have done on my own!