Desert Diva

The “Fire on the Mountain” that I’m familiar with is a fiction book based on a true story by Edward Abbey.

Abbey based his plot around actual events in which a New Mexico rancher named John Prather who fought government attempts to confiscate his land to make it part of the White Sands Missle Range. Considering the time when this book was written, following the era of McCarthyism and the onset of the Cold War, Abbey was especially bold in putting forth the philosophical preposition that an individual has a moral and ethical responsibilty to protect the land against its despoilers, whether corporate entities or even the US government.

Check it out sometime - it’s an excellent read.

The onset on autumn has been a busy time for me. I just printed, spray mounted, and matted twenty photos to enter in the Southern New Mexico State Fair. The cost incurred was much more than I would ever recoup if I even won, but it’s a great learning experience to “take your photo” all the way through the process. I’m also working on submitting a few photos to the annual New Mexico Magazine Photo Contest.

Saturday evening, I attended a gallery opening of an El Paso Photo group entitled “Megapixels.” As I stepped from my car to go the the little coffee shop where the exhibit was, “Fire on the Mountain” is what I saw. A few minutes earlier I was driving over Transmountain Road, (a faster shortcut to get to the other side of town) and stopped and photographed the twilight sun over the city. I wanted to stay longer and get the sunset, but I had somewhere to be. Sometimes, I get so wrapped up in my job and personal “trauma” that I forget how beautiful life is - if only we have “eyes to see.”

The current tragedy is that my teenage nephew in Indianapolis was recently diagnosed with lymphoma. I’m not going to lie, my youngest brother and I are like “oil and water.” We disagree on many issues, and just don’t see “eye to eye.” However, I’m so sad that he as a father has to see his son go through this trauma.  Still, he’s my brother and in our own private ways, I know we care about each other. Please say a prayer or send positive thoughts for my nephew J. I think he’s going to need them for the battle he’s facing ahead.

I’m glad that the weekend is over. It was one of the crummiest weekends I’ve had in awhile. Of course, part of it had to do with my expectations…

Saturday, I commenced with my “latte and loafing.” I had a very nice double skinny latte and a multi-seed toasted bagel. (OK, with butter - shhh!) Since Dillard’s is having the end of the summer season shoe sale (75% off), I decided to travel to El Paso to peruse the “larger” Dillard’s. I spied a very cute pair of Italian designer black flats - uh, maybe I should say “flat” since I found one on the rack. I asked three salespeople, looked on each rack, and also through the “piles of debris” that people had left from trying on sale shoes. After spending an hour (I kid you not) of my time looking, I finally gave up.

However, I perked up after visiting the Popeye’s for some spicy fried chicken, red beans and rice, and a biscuit. Afterwards, I sped home to attend the screening of the New Mexican made movie - “Becoming Eduardo.” I put on a summer dress and before leaving “spritzed” myself with Chance by Chanel - but only two spritzes! Upon entering the theatre I sat down by two women and chatted a little. Well, until one of them began to sneeze. I know that some people are very sensitive to fragrances, and asked if that might be the problem. She thought it might be. So, I took my two spritzed self to another seat in the back of the theatre.

There seemed to be a lot of commotion in the control booth, and finally the “director” told the audience that there would be no screening of the movie - only clips. Apparently he had found out earlier in the afternoon that if the film was shown to an audience in its entirety, that it would be “disqualified” from the Sundance Film Festival. If I were related to the director, I might have felt there was a reason to stay… However, I did stop and photograph the above scene on my way home - the light was beautiful.

Sunday was one of those days when I just couldn’t get motivated to do a lot - I lazed around and started reading “Marley and Me.” A cute book, but not life changing in any sense of the word. However, I decided that I would go and have a drink at the bar of the restaurant where I went for dinner with three of my girlfriends a couple of weeks ago. They INSISTED that the guy who came over to talk to us was “interested” in me. So, I went. The bar was virtually empty since there had been a September 16th (Mexican Independence Day) celebration in the plaza.

The Grito de Dolores (”Cry of Dolores”) was the battle cry of the Mexican War of Independence, uttered on September 16, 1810 by Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, a Roman Catholic priest from the small town of Dolores, near Guanajuato.

Well, “B” was there - sitting by a woman whose shoulders he kept rubbing while chatting up a Texas looking couple. Why did I go? I actually don’t know since I haven’t really been attracted to any men since my last relationship. Anyway, I had a very nice glass of Pinot Noir and a bar snack of smoked salmon with capers. Then, home I went to be greeted by the ever faithful Cali.

Today, I promptly went to purchase a “little bauble” that I’ve been eying. It was 75% off, and I DESERVE it. At least it will look good on the wrist that isn’t “screwed up” until I have the surgery…

Seriously, it’s a Bulova Accutron watch with a stainless steel band. I like watch faces that don’t have numerals, and it’s gold and silver. I “almost” bought the black face, but the bracelet was completely silver. I’ve already taken it to a jeweler to have some links taken out and it fits “perfectly!”

Sometimes, I sit in my little townhome in the Desert Southwest and wonder what it would be like to venture to places unknown. Matt Harding has done that - twice (with the support of Stride gum). Matt’s a quirky ambassador with a funky dance. I envy him…

I’m in “The Land of the Living” - well sort of anyway. It’s been Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride lately at Desert Diva central. I’ve been “doctor shopping” lately. My internist, Dr. A (and her partner) do not have hospital privileges and I’ve worried that may not be quite “normal.” So, I “asked around” and made an appointment with a family care physician.

It just so happened that I concurrently had a severe allergic reaction to the high weed pollen count in my little town. We’ve had an unusual amount of rain and the dominant offender has been ambrosia weeds. So I took my congested, coughing, itchy eyed, runny nosed, and wheezing rear end to Dr. R.

Dr. R suggested that I have every possible medical test known to the medical community, and sent me off with a zillion prescriptions of potent medications. Two different types of inhalers (not asthma - it’s a “reactive airway”) nose spray, and pills. A “negative mark” for Dr. R was that she insisted that Zantac 150 mg was still a prescription drug. Nope, it’s OTC - I know because I’ve bought a few bottles…

The acid reflux drug made my stomach hurt, and I felt “drugged” by all the rest. For the acid reflux I went back to over the counter Zantac and I’ve ended up using one of the inhalers (Symbicort) as needed and bought over the counter Claritin. I was feeling much better.

Until today. Well, actually yesterday.

I’ve been having pain in my upper left arm. It’s difficult to do the back “towel dry” pose, and I have to be careful when putting my arm through my sleeve. I told my original physician about it some time ago. I had an EKG that turned out normal. It’s called an impingement. If I have a good massage or do hot yoga (or take a vacation), it mysteriously disappears. However, my current wrist situation rules out yoga.

Today I took 400 mg of ibuprofen and hardly noticed my arm today. However after work being the obsessive/compulsive person that I am, I thought “left arm pain” - we all know what that’s a symptom of a more “serious” condition. I went to Dr. L (Also a female - do you see a pattern?) who took walk-ins since I was contemplating going to the ER. She was so nice and I got “teary.” She gave me tissues before and after the EKG (which was normal), gave me a prescription for the pain, an order for a MRI to locate the impingement, and sent me on my merry way. I told her that it might be awhile since I’m trying to schedule my wrist surgery. She said “no problem.”

I got in my car and promptly started to sniffle, cry, bawl. I think I’m just so tired of not feeling “myself” lately and relieved that I’m basically OK. I came home, hugged Cali for several minutes, poured myself a glass of Pinot Noir, and then poured out my feelings in this post. Sorry, I tried to get off the dark and twisty rant, but sometimes life is that way.

I’m feeling better already…

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

It seems I face a daily dilemma. Some days, I feel extremely angry and sad over losses that I’ve experienced in my life. At other times, I feel ashamed that I don’t feel “lucky.”

These feelings are well illustrated in “Lucky,” a novel by Alice Sebold. During her college days, a horrific act of violence was imposed upon Sebold. A “well-meaning” policeman in an attempt to mollify her, told her that a young woman had been murdered in the same area and, by comparison, Sebold should consider herself lucky.

Comments such as these make one feel ashamed and devalued. Although not on the same level, I’ve experienced similar comments. Additionally, who hasn’t heard as a child “Stop crying, or I’ll give you something to REALLY cry about.” The underlying message is that if you aren’t thankful for your life as it is, something more horrific can happen to you.

We live in a world where suffering is unfortunately a given - and on many different levels. As much as we try, we fool ourselves if we think we can shield ourselves from disappointment and pain. So what is the “answer?” I suppose the answer is that “there are no answers.” Life is just that - “life.” However, as humans we do have a choice on how we live our day-to-day existence.

I think my blogging pal Fleur-de-Lisa is on the right track. We need to live in the moment, but keep our eye on the future. Her advice for the day - “Do one thing that makes you happy.” OK, Lisa - I’m off to “seek my bliss!”

I like to read. Usually, during the school year I read a few pages nightly before sleeping. However, traveling in the summer in my RV, I indulge myself with reading. I rely on the “karma” of the thrift store selection to find what I’m going to read next. Sometimes, I feel I hit the mother lode - as in Eugene, Oregon recently.

One of the books I found is a compilation of essays entitled “This I Believe.” Where have I been? I obviously didn’t know about the NPR series, nor did I realize there is a website with the collection. I suppose I have “lots of feelings” about what I’ve read - not only in the current writings, but the ones from the original collection fifty years ago.

As humans, we all have our beliefs and personal stories. It’s the retelling of these that hold power and help us to formulate our personal truths. I stand in awe as I consider my own…

Several years ago, I read “The Road Less Traveled” by M. Scott Peck. He opens the book with what he deems to be a “universal truth.”

Life is difficult.

This is a great truth, one of the greatest truths. It is a great truth because once we truly see this truth, we transcend it. Once we know that life is truly difficult - once we truly understand and accept it - then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters.

Uh, yeah. Unfortunately, I don’t have to go very far to see that truth - not only in my own life, but in the lives of others. In recent months I’ve felt overwhelmed by my own struggles. At the same time, others around me are struggling - just in different ways. Blogging, I’ve seen a woman struggle with her husband leaving her because of infidelity, and another who’s relationship is in “limbo.” Talking with my brother I found he recently lost his sister-in-law, and a year ago a friend to alcoholism (I knew B., he was always kind to me and a seemingly “nice” guy.) For the past two mornings on my way to a coffee shop, I’ve noticed a man in a power wheelchair on the street wearing a helmet. His limbs are “curled” with what I recognize as cerebral palsy.

The other day I “put back on” a gold and silver filigree cross that I always wear. It’s an iconic “touchstone” for me when I’m anxious or stressed. I had taken it off the day broke my wrist to wear a “glitzy” necklace to the tea dance and went for months carrying it around in my billfold. Deep inside I know that it wasn’t because I didn’t believe in God anymore - it was that I was incredibly angry. My anger wasn’t just directed at God, it was at the universe. Some days I felt like I hated everyone and everything.

I’m somewhat “back to normal,” whatever that is. I again formulate prayers (such as they are) and thoughts for myself and others. Cali and I took a long walk last evening along the beautiful path along the Willamette river. In the whispers of nature we saw the setting sun, a mother and her ducklings, and a lone crane through the trees in our three mile trek.
Our lives are formed of dreams and hopes of “what we want.” For now, I’ll settle for “what I need.”