MY Ghost Ranch

This is Ghost Ranch, New Mexico   

 

The daring Queen of Ghost Ranch. The soulful poet laureate from Santa Fe. The mystical yoga teacher. Sweet young Emilene. Catherine the Voice. Beautiful Brooke. Quiet friends Liz and Elaine. Kindred spirit Elaine. And me, Laura, coming here to wash herself in the hues of the painted desert.

 

Yoga in the mornings on the hill. An early morning trek to Chimney Rock. A secret hike to O'Keeffe's Ghost Ranch home with the spectacular NM sunsets walking us home. A long-awaited tour of O'Keeffe's home in Abiquiu - it did not disappoint, from the gardens to the rocks to Mino, the gardener's grandson, now grown, who slipped me a piece of sweet sage to take with me. 

 

A social whirl through El Rito - must watch Manhattan, the series! Met a writer, a sculptor and rescue dog Lilly, found roaming the streets of Espanola with a giant chain on her neck. Dined on takeout from El Farolito at their desert home.

 

An evening hike to the Bear, made by the sculptor we met. Yoga in the desert with the sun setting. We're surrounded by towering rocks, blue skies and the spirits.

 

We make lunches on the porch for our hike into box canyon where we find a magical cavern at the end. We do yoga, we do the hokey-pokey, we sing. I choose this place to build an altar, a stack of rocks like you see in many spots. Five rocks: life, love, purpose, patience and dreams. I ask the cavern to keep my troubles. I ask the well we pass the same. I splash its cold waters all over me. I feel alive, I feel new. Though I know my old stuff is still there.

I listen to our writing coach give a reading. A Jewish earth mother. I struggle with my own writing and am awed by the others' writings. I realize how I don't ever write about what's inside of me. Brooke and Elaine are the bravest, sharing their inner worlds with us. 

Throughout the week there are kids all around. Thursday night is "coffeehouse," when they get to strut their stuff - an interpretive dance, a Shakespeare and Star Wars skits, a comedian. They are silly and happy and its infectious.

Friday I'm a bit out of sorts, so I head out for a drive by myself, north to Tierra Amarilla, where I get coffee at the coolest little unknown spot. The owner plays his garbage can cello for me. I head back and the scenery is so big - it's all so big here. I stop at Echo Amphitheatre and shout to the cavern again to hold my troubles, free me of them. I say goodbye to sad Laura. I realize NOBODY knows where I am and I love it.

I get back and I am happy to see my new friends. I've seen each of them cry. We eat red chile enchiladas and other cafeteria fare and sit outside. Later, we listen to candlelit music and 10-minute plays.

The final day is our hike to Kitchen Mesa, it's long and scary, we scramble up rock crevasses. My heart is pounding. We get to the top - my heart is pounding from the view. We climb back down - I feel like a badass for doing it.

There is so much more. Always, there is the view - the mountains, the sky, the clouds, the colors. I pick up rocks wherever I got and mail them home. And the Pedernal, it is humbling to be in its presence, it watches over us, it changes everyday and yet stays the same. You can see why she was obsessed with it.

This is Ghost Ranch

A Beautiful 2014

Resolutions run rampant every January. This year, I’ve heard several people recommend focusing on one true thing. My friend and shamanic healer Luisa Kolker of Santa Fe, has this suggestion: Create an intention – pithy and to the point – about what you desire to create and experience this year.

So here’s my intention for 2014: Cultivate beauty.  

Now, I don’t mean the kind of beauty you buy at the Neiman Marcus makeup counter, though I do love my Laura Mercier products. I mean the kind of beauty that is found in tending to a small garden, helping a homeless animal, enjoying an unexpected nap with my man, preparing a dinner for dear friends. I mean the inner beauty that comes from taking excellent care of oneself, from eating right to taking yoga classes to laughing – A LOT. This year, I will focus more on trying to establish more beauty in my life. I think beauty also promotes love, peace, creativity and strength, all attributes we can use more of in this challenging world.

Happy New Year, Beautiful 2014!

A passing ...

A former colleague, a friend of mine, died last Friday. He had been ill with pneumonia. I hadn't seen him in years, but I kept track of him and his wonderful photography work on - where else - Facebook, as did thousands of his other "friends."

I liked seeing the frequent postings of photos, old and new, that were all available for purchase. Already the owner of one of his photographs, I mused about buying more and even talked to him, via FB msgs, about possibly buying another one this past year. 

But a couple of weeks ago, the photos were replaced with postings about his illness, even a couple of selfies of him in the hospital looking alaramingly ill. I was happy to see a post last week that said he was at home and looking forward to a full recovery. Then, just a couple of days later, the weekend FB feed showed an outpouring of grief over his death Friday.

I was stunned and saddened by the loss of a nice, talented man who seemed definitely too young (53) to die. I thought of how vibrant his life seemed in San Antonio, how he was loved and admired.

Then, selfishly, I thought about how I was about the same age and how terrible it would be, to me, to die right now! Seems there are so many things to do - write that book, get to know my biological family better, lose those 10 pounds, find a place in the country.

So I came back here today to this blog to get back into its purpose, to write about the precious moments we are given during this brief stay on Earth.

I think Rick Hunter must have used his time right. I met him back around 1995 when I first started working for the San Antonio Express-News. He was a good-looking photographer who was into his work. I can remember asking him about the barbed-wire tattoo he had around the base of his (marriage) ring finger. It's a reminder, he said. What a rogue, I thought, in a nice way.

But I always admired his work and I wondered if he ever settled down. Seems he did, sort of. The obituary talked his partner of 17 years, a beautiful woman who said she loved him with all her heart, even though it was very hard to sometimes. Her comment made me think of the tattoo - and how agonizing it can be sometimes to love a man. I guess that's what happens when you happen onto such an emotional bond.

RIP Rick Hunter. I am sorry you had to leave so early. Below is a photo by Rick and a poem by his partner, Shelbi Lyn. 

Waiting for it ...

Much of the time, and I'm not the first to say this, Houstonians are either slogging through summer, dreading for it come or praying for it to end. Then there are days like today, when we cannot remember what heat and humidity mean. It's clear, it's a tiny bit cold. It's bliss. I snapped this shot of the UH campus on a quiet Friday afternoon. I had stepped outside, trying to shake off the thoughts that were bugging me. It worked. Thanks Houston. And yes, I will soon forget I ever said or thought this!  

Garden as art

It's been a long time since I posted anything on this blog. Christmas in Ely, England. New Year's out in Fayetteville. Both trips went unnoticed in this blog but not by me. Time to start posting again. It has been really lovely weather lately in Houston - many sunny days, nice rains, cool evenings. Soon enough it will be like the surface of Venus, but it is nice for now. Enjoy it. Planted a spring garden recently - tomatoes, green beans, black-eyed peas, herbs, cucumbers and lettuces. Cross your fingers. After we finished planting, I looked around the community garden and found this divine allotment. It is art itself.

Thanksgiving

It's the first day of the Thanksgiving holiday week. I really love Thanksgiving. So no whining in this post. First, I just love the food - you don't get a turkey like that any other time of the year it seems. (sorry vegetarians.) As a journalist, I usually had to make the choice of going home to New Mexico at Thanksgiving or Christmas. I usually chose Christmas, so I was often a Thanksgiving orphan. But I always found a great home for the holiday, thanks to knowing some truly terrific people. Work no longer keeps me from traveling for the Thanksgiving holiday. But this year, I am staying in Houston and we will celebrate at the home of some treasured friends. So I am truly thankful for my place in this world right now. I am. This week, I am thinking of all of the good things. Today, it's morning glorys. I planted morning glory seeds earlier this year along a fence and they have been blooming like crazy this month. Every morning, I walk out and see them in their full glory. It makes me smile. I've included a couple of shots of them. Tonight I go shopping for Thanksgiving groceries!

Lost in place ...

I wanted to add a comment to this blog that my friend Jenny sent to me via FB but couldn't post.)
Before the (insert life change here), I would have told my child that place doesn't matter. That you are you and the place you stand is just a changing backdrop, irrelevant to what you become. But now, every time, I run through downtown Cedar Rapids, drive over the river (so tame this year because of the drought), I know that is not true. I know that place leaves an imprint. Being from somewhere gives you a place to stand on, and run from or back to as