Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Dead and alive

I wake up and it's cloudy, but why does everything still feel so dry? Outside: gusty winds, dust and dead leaves and cottony plant pieces blowing everywhere. I check the humidity: 6%. I used to like cloudy days, all that moist air – how can we have a cloudy day, when the humidity stays at 6%? What a nightmare.

I'm sick of feeling so awful, all the time. Yesterday I felt a little better, like I could do something besides trying to do something. Today it's back to the usual. People keep asking me if my health is worse now, here in Santa Fe. Maybe before I took the parasite medications, it was hard to say, but now I can definitely say that yes, my health is worse. I can barely function.

There was something else I wanted to tell you, but now I can't remember. My mother is on the phone, telling me I'm not alone, she's concerned about me. Now I feel so terrible that I can't even speak. Hello, my mother says. Yes, I'm still here.

Then I get off the phone, and I feel bad for making my mother feel bad. When does this end? How many times in a day do I have to use hand lotion? I never used hand lotion before, I mean before the desert. My phone's ringing again. Oh, my mother. I don't want to talk about it.

Anyway, the desert – it's too dry. I just want a nice foggy day. On that cloudy day when the humidity was 6%, it kind of looked foggy – I'm not sure what it was, maybe just low clouds, since we are at 7000 feet elevation, right? Today it's sunnier, and there was a hailstorm for 4 minutes, what a tease. What else, there was something else. Something about the desert, it's too dry – I know I already said that. I know it shouldn't be a surprise. Wait – I need to put more hand lotion on.

What was different last night, when I went on a walk just before bed and there was something about the air that calmed me, that felt nurturing, looking up at the sky and those stars, a half-moon -- then a car drove by, and it sounded so loud, just that one car. That moment of calm that felt like hope, I'm getting somewhere, but it feels like those moments come less and less frequently, sure there are wired moments of inspiration from time to time but that's just the flipside of exhaustion. What about that calm – where, how, when? Today it’s colder and I have the heat on, the heat that dries out my head, my head that’s already dry. Maybe it's time for a walk in the somewhat moist air, no I don't have the energy yet.

Okay, Carolyn came over and drove me over to her house, showed me this alley that led to traffic barriers shielding a handmade wooden bridge over an acequia, that means irrigation channel I mean if there's ever any water, but anyway it’s beautiful. Especially the beginning of this walk with all these strange mansionish adobe concoctions, strange gardens and this one tree that grows outward more than up, yes this is the moment when the air is cool and moist again, I can study the details of light and texture, ground and lamp post, street and sidewalk, dirt and grass and gravel and asphalt, shadow and sky, new flowers and leaves and vines and everything in between dead and alive, and alive, yes alive, that's what I'm feeling.

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