|Down by the Verde. Blog post title is a lyric from the new Puscifer album. Photo is from a 105F September ride.|
I'm grateful for water in the desert, for family and love, and for this bounty called Life.
I'm headed down to this river at sunrise on Friday for a dip: because the Verde is a cold miracle flowing through a dry valley and I can hike through the darkness through places I'm probably not supposed to be in order to feel her chill run through me.
One view of my worth is that I'm an infinite blip in a vast cosmic emptiness that thinks and loves and rides. But nothing weighs your worth like a dip in the Verde at dawn in November.
If I unload freight in those frigid life waters does my worth increase while I lighten my load?
I will hike back in the rising light, seek out my people, my tribe, and tread lightly among our peculiarities and special unique qualities and traditions, and find solace and quiet therein. And tell them the tale of my Friday, how it was not Black, but rather seemed icy, full, light, and miraculous.
I hope to return from her majesty's waters to discover that the miracle that someone else weighs enough worth in me to trust/love/esteem me persists. I plan to act like someone who deserves even a fraction of it.
Shivering in the after-cold, I will seek solid warmth in the crushing blanket of memories, and will be grateful if I find a bit of something steady to calm the shivers, and not its unsolid cold opposite.
To travel lightly, unburdened, to be balanced, to ride with the happy freaks as if I was young and the day was mine.
Like someone who awoke in the best dream they ever had, and knew just what to do.
Also grateful that another member of my tribe and I have great seats together at the Puscifer concert in Mesa in a couple weeks.
And of course last but not at all least, I'm grateful for a few readers who stop by once in a while and ride down this road with me a short while.
Thankful. Grateful. Peace.