When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Get Gone



Taos Pueblo

        I mentioned in a previous post that, shortly after my ALS diagnosis was confirmed, I went on a road trip.  It was such a special, meaningful adventure that I have to write about it, to share it, even though it is no longer new news.
      I don't know how long I am going to be able to drive my Miata: shifting, putting the top up & down and all that.  I don't know how much longer I'll be able to go hiking.  I don't know how much longer I'll be able to get around all by myself.  But I could last month -- and so I did.
      I went, by myself, to Taos.
      Why alone?  Because I needed the time and space for reflection, for introspection. I needed to learn something about this new me, something I could do only on my own.
      And why Taos?  Because I'd never been there.  Because I find there's something magical and compelling about the Southwest.  Because of cultural heritage and art and hot springs and scenery and space and archaeology and food. Because my original idea, Sedona, was automatically eliminated due to the fact that it lies in Arizona.  (A long story, and political at that....)

Taos Pueblo

       I visited Taos Pueblo and met an old gentleman, full of dignity but very genial, an artist in wood and a pueblo leader, who told me how to bring spiritual healing into my home.  I went to a co-op gallery on the Taos Plaza and found incredible artwork -- crosses made of salvaged and recycled trash -- created by a man whose own life was salvaged and recycled by his God and his art.  I went down to Albuquerque and visited old friends not seen in years, who proved that true friendship pays no attention to time.  I went to a spa and soaked in a hot spring, then broke down and wept to the spa attendant, pouring out my story, and was comforted by her understanding as much as by her massage.  I stayed in the most charming casita and made it my own with sage bundles, pinon candles and root beer floats.  I drove the Enchanted Circle around Taos Mountain, right at the height of fall color change, and I hiked around lakes and canyons, and I sat to watch people fish.  I visited the Rio Grande Gorge and the Earthship Zone.  I made two discoveries at the St Francis of Assisi Church in Rancho de Taos: 1) I found out why Georgia O'Keefe and Ansel Adams found it such an appealing subject; and 2) I met a marvelous artist and charming man whose work now hangs in my home.
     And on the road I saw Capitol Reef and the Anasazi Cultural Center and the Canyon of the Ancients and rainstorms and hailstorms and a 35-minute sunset and the South Colorado Rockies and the Southeast Utah rock formations -- and was awestruck by all of them.

     I don't think the trip solved any problems, or really answered any questions. But it did provide some time to think, some experiences to treasure, some very real and very personal joy and, yes, a chance to escape.  Was it just running away?  Maybe.  But it was, although he doesn't know it, just what the doctor ordered.

Aztec National Monument



On the Taos Plaza



Ghost Rocks, Utah