Musings About Energy of All Sorts

Power

“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.” – Douglas Adams

Do you notice, do you get a feel for the swirling energy around you? Good? Bad? Neutral?

Do you seek spaces where the energy is good, and avoid places that feel out of synch?

While on this trip, I landed in a place that didn’t feel like a good match for me. The destination required last-minute planning, and the types of places I usually stay were booked. I stayed in a hotel that I normally would not have chosen. It was only for one night. Not a big deal.

And still, I felt out-of-place. I slept poorly. I didn’t feel grounded. Or perhaps it was the lack of positive energy, or too much free-floating, unattached energy.

Once I’d gotten settled in my room, I went looking for something to see or do, hoping to make a connection of some sort. I followed a partially hidden sign which directed me to “Road of Little Motels”. It sounded historic, interesting. But either I took a wrong turn, or the little motels now only exist in the memory of the townspeople.

I found nothing that resembled a quaint street of little motels. Instead I found winding roads and crowded city lots, yards with small houses surrounded by chain link fences and filled with large toys — pontoon boats, speedboats, ATVs, snowmobiles, super long RVs.

The next morning I looked for a main street breakfast spot, a mom and pop sort of place. Eventually I found a coffee shop on the edge of town.

When I spoke to the hostess, she said there were available tables, but the kitchen was behind and it would be a 30 minute wait for food. I was okay with that. I had a cup of coffee and my book.

But I was soon aware of the conversations at the surrounding tables.

I overheard angry, impatient conversations: “You people don’t know how to (fill in the blank)” or “You don’t have WIFI? I need to get my emails,” or “This food isn’t like the picture on the menu, there are bananas in the picture.”

There were eight tables with groups of diners near me. Not a single person was smiling. One couple was talking quietly, otherwise people stared vacantly or complained in loud voices.

I tried an experiment. I caught a person’s gaze, then nodded and smiled. Of the six people who made eye contact – most avoided me – only one returned my smile.

This is a resort sort of place. Maybe it is just too busy, too hurried and crowded for me. But none of these people look like they are enjoying themselves. They come to . . . relax? Have fun? Get away from their regular routine?

I watch the waiter. He is trying his hardest. He apologizes for a mistaken item – not crispy enough bacon – and says he will be happy to make things right. He keeps the coffee cups filled. He fields requests with kind words and action. He hustles back and forth from the kitchen.

I think to myself that people have lost the ability to slow down.

The waiter brings my last coffee refill and the check. Then he says, “Thanks so much for your patience. You’ve been great.”

I was surprised, actually. “No problem. You were really busy.”

“Yeah. One of the cooks, his brother died. Funeral’s today, so some of the kitchen guys took the morning off. Thanks, again.”

We never do know what’s going on in other people’s lives, do we?

Maybe the people who come for a vacation have more at stake than just relaxing or having a good time. Maybe the people with the yards full of expensive toys are searching for happiness, and have found nothing resembling it. And maybe the kitchen staff is behind on the breakfast orders for an unusual reason.

Be kind for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. ~ Plato

The waiter shrugs, then smiles. And the energy shifts.

On a Sidetracked Adventure – A Visit to Northern Arizona

Sunset Crater

Sunset Crater © 2014 Bo Mackison

Day Three of my cross country trek brings me no closer to home.
But I add another day of adventure to the trip.

Leaving Flagstaff at 1:57 pm,
a late start but there was computer work to be done
and I’m heading to a “No Service” region.

Sunny and 55˚F. Breezy.
The San Francisco Peaks glow with a snow halo.
Perhaps I leave Flagstaff with an angel riding on my shoulder.

Historic Route 66 through Flagstaff.
Establishments from the Route 66 travel heyday – Wonderland Motel. Arrowhead Motel.
66 Motel. Royal Inn. Americana Inn 66.
Miz Zips Cafe. Lets Eat Cafe. Pony Soldier Inn. Motel El Pueblo.

Grand Canyon South Rim 79 miles.
Grand Canyon North Rim 159 miles.
Add a couple of stops and its a 285 mile trip.
Dawdling travel. “Do something for a week” travel.

Gas at Safeway just north of town $3.49 a gallon.
Page Arizona 127 miles. A collapsed road and detour adds 50 miles. More to see.

Moose. Next 28 miles.
Road Work Ahead. Fire Danger High.

Cinder Way. Girls Ranch Road.
Sunset Crater Volcano. One mile ahead.

Elevation 7000 feet.
Layers of golden sacaton grasslands, bands of forest, the painted desert beyond.

Sacred Mountain Book Store and Art Gallery. Closed.
Telephone poles cut a dirt swath through the cedar/juniper forest.

Wupatki National Monument

Wupatki National Monument © 2014 Bo Mackison

Elevation 6000 feet.
Antelope Hills. Sinagua Trading Post.
Wupatki National Monument. Ahead one mile.

Babbitt Ranch Annual Colt Sale. Jul 12, 2014.

Stripes of tar road repairs, drum beat.
Grazing cattle in sparse grasses.

Navajo Nation Scenic Road

Navajo Nation Scenic Road © 2014 Bo Mackison

Gray Mountain.
Sacred Mountain Not For Sale.
Buckle Up. It’s the Navajo Nation Law.

Cameron Arizona.
Cameron Trading Post. Yes. We are Open.
I pass the road to Grand Canyon, South Rim.

Moenkopi Wash. Dry and dusty. Orange earth.
Explore the Navajo Museum.
Tuba City Ahead.

See Real Dinosaur Tracks. Turn here.
World War II Navajo Code Talkers Memorial.

Road Work Ahead.
Caution. Caution. Caution.
One Lane Road Ahead. Prepare to Stop.

Old Red Lake.
Red and white striped mountains capped with two white chimneys.
A school bus drops off one or two kids at the dirt road turnoffs,
parents in pickup trucks wait.

A Big Red Rock

A Big Red Rock © 2014 Bo Mackison

Cow Springs. 4 Miles.
Brightly painted turquoise house. A mural, a hand, covers one wall.
Page 64 miles. Highway AZ 98.

Asphalt roads change into red rutted dirt a few feet from the highway.
Two police cars and a med-vac helicopter at a level spot off the road,
blades whirring, the crew works over a stretcher.

54 cyclists zoom past in double formation.
Gray rock formations piled to the south, like giant cow pies.
Vermillion cliffs rise in the north.

Driving AZ 98

Salt River Power Plant © 2014 Bo Mackison

Chimneys in triplicate. Coal burners. Electricity for Phoenix and Tucson.
Grasslands line the road. Ten miles from Page, a glimpse of Lake Powell.
5000 feet elevation.

Billboards. Upper Antelope Canyon. Lower Antelope Canyon.
Antelope Point Scenic Site.
Antelope Wash – dry and dusty.
Kids are sledding on saucers on the sloping walls.

Electric high wires string along the highway.
Cross the roads. Power is Page’s Business.
Welcome to Page.

Historic Road of Little Hotels.
Mesa Movie House.
Big John’s Texas BBQ.
Page Boy Hotel.

Time to stop for the night. I need a power recharge.

 

Traveling Cross Country, Interrupted – Still Learning Lessons

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Sedona View on High © 2014 Bo Mackison

I’ve been riding shot gun with tow truck drivers lately – one taciturn,
one surly, and one with more problems than I could keep track of.

So I’m not expecting much when the current tow truck driver
readies my car-in-need-of-serious-help for a tow from Sedona to Flagstaff.

He surprises me when he opens the door for me, and gives me
a steadying hand as I navigate the metal steps into the cab.

Sedona

We admire the Sedona scenery on our way out-of-town.

He says “tough luck” on hearing my recent history with car repairs, and means it,
and I respond with acceptance – no choice there – and comments about lemonade.
Then mentions the people he tows who do nothing but curse and complain.

“What the whole world needs now is kindness. Kindness is the key,” he says.

I nod. Angels come in all shapes and sizes, and occupations, I’m thinking.

View from A Tow Truck

After four hours of diagnostics, both the mechanic
and the service department manager shake their heads, and frown. Deeply.

The news about the car is not the kind one wants to hear 300 miles
into a 2000 mile trip across half the country.

“It’s a head gasket.”
They might as well tell me the car’s developed an allergy to road dust.

“Big job. Should be ready by next Monday at closing time,” says the service tech.
But today is Monday.
Oh…

“See, I gotta take the engine apart and then put it back together. Takes me five full days.”
Simple explanations. I get it.

Then the good news. “It’s covered by warranty. So is the loaner. Unlimited mileage”

I may not be an auto aficionado, but I can learn Basic Auto 101.

“You need my car for a week, but I get a replacement…and I can drive anywhere?”

“Yes.” He nods. Then frowns slowly. “But not all the way to Wisconsin…”

“Right. Not to Wisconsin…”

I can embrace crankiness
or I can do a quick re-frame and consider the possibilities.

The possibilities win out.

After I send out a request on Facebook, I immediately get a dozen recommendations
on places to visit in or near Flagstaff. A car breakdown becomes a magical gift.

OK. Confession time. I am a phone-phobic.
If I can talk someone else into making a phone call for me, I will. Except,
I am alone in this predicament.

Time to grow into this independence and self-sufficiency even more, Bo. Sigh!

I figure out a schedule, calculate distances,
then spend several hours tracking down available hotel rooms and rates.

The angels once more do their work,
and in a synchronous social media moment,
two friends independently suggest a meet up with the same person,
a photographer who just happens to be a park ranger up the road.
When consulted, she agrees to a meet up.

Lemonade. Perhaps she likes lemonade, too.

(To be continued…don’t want to ruin any surprises.)

Traveling Cross Country, Learning Unexpected Lessons – Day 1

Broad billed Hummingbird, male

Broad billed Hummingbird © 2014 Bo Mackison

Sunday morning. 10:56 am
49,738 on the odometer.
The car, packed like a 3D puzzle, hums sweetly,
its mechanical issues of the past two weeks fixed,
it’s been pronounced “good as new”.

I say my farewells, a flute song, I believe the hummingbird
sipping its nectar and the green arroyo are appreciative.

The flute is my Arizona gift to myself. It is my good morning, my good night,
and now my goodbye ritual.  Blessings for the upcoming travels,
and farewell…for now. It is an imperfect song, as it should be.

I whisper “traveling mercies, Bo”
and smile at my motto for this year’s trip:
“Bo, WHOA” for Whole-Hearted, Open-Minded Adventure.

As I back away from the casita
a red-tailed hawk circles above, dips then soars to the north.

Homer, the Bald Saguaro, with Buds on his Head

Homer, the Bald Saguaro, with Buds on his Head © 2014 Bo Mackison

Homer, the cactus I’ve nicknamed and wave to every day, has nubbies on his once bald head.
flowers that will bloom long after I am gone.
Quails scuttle across the road; their babies half run, half flutter-fly.

I begin my journey. I’ll cross many bridges searching for flowing waters,
leaving one desert but always, always
entering another.

Soap tree yucca send white spikes of creamy flowers into the air.
The ocotillo, a steady bloomer since January, are nearly spent,
a single bright red cluster lingers on a branch
and the saguaros are thick with white saucer blossoms.

Desert Diamond Casino
Santa Cruz River, and beyond a hill like a porcupine, toothpick cacti on its back.
San Xavier del Bac Mission, the White Dove.
Desert Museum. Old Tucson. Exit Here.

Palo Verde - Green Stick

Palo Verde – Green Stick © 2014 Bo Mackison

The desert is green in May.
Palo verde trees — green stick trees – thick and blooming yellow only last week,
dotting the desert with yellow flares,
now the blossoms lie under the trees, like a drift of yellow snow.

Flashing overhead sign:
Caution High Winds. Blowing Dust.
The sign is correct, the blue sky turns brown, all but obliterates the outlines of the mountains surrounding Tucson.

Gas is 3.31 at the circle K on Miracle Mile.
Blinking lights, road construction.
Three lanes of traffic merge into one.

Prince Street. Rillito Creek
Orange Grove Road.
Mega Wash at the RV Dealer

Tucson to Phoenix, dusty and desert scrub.
Semis sway, cross the yellow lines.
Picacho Peak is a ghost silhouette in a dusty shroud.

Cars double park in the lot at the Rooster Cogburn Ostrich Ranch.
It appears the ostriches are a popular Mother’s Day destination.

Saguaro, these ancient many-armed, appear where moments ago,
there were only fields of dust.
Tumbleweed dances across four lanes of traffic. A yellow sedan
swerves onto the narrow shoulder, slides off the road.

Gas Line Road. Maricopa County. The city encroaches.
Snarls of cars, layers of curving merges, speeding cars switching lanes.
Through Phoenix and beyond, relieved to leave metro traffic.

And then rural replaces urban.
New River, dry pebbles and dust.
Elevation 2000. Table Mesa.

What a joy to see the cacti forests abloom
like green tapers with white flames.

Top of a Saguaro Cactus in May

Top of a Saguaro Cactus in May © 2014 Bo Mackison

Little Squaw River, dusty and dry.
Rock Springs. Black Canyon City.
Yavapai County. Bumble Bee and Crown King exit – No Services.

Turn Off A/C Next 5 Miles.Avoid Overheating.
Horsethief Basin.
Fresh Oil Ahead. Reduce Speed.

Every shade of green sings life in the mountains of the high desert.
Elevation 3000 feet.

On top of the Colorado Plateau the land opens,
the skies fill with zillions of clouds.
Agua Fria National Monument.

Boulders scatter the land, scenery of the Flintstones’ Bedrock City
(and a two days’ drive to Rock Vegas)
Cordes Lake Road

Arcosanti Road. Agua Fria River – dry and rocky
The odometer turns 50,000 as I enter Prescott National Forest.

Ash Creek – dry and dusty. Elevation 4000 feet
Sacaton grasses dotted with juniper and cedar.
Cienega Creek – dry. Entering Verde Valley

General Crook Trail.Verde River – dry and dusty
Entering Cocochino National Forest. A hawk soars.
Wild Horse Mesa. Dry Beaver Creek – dry and rocky.

Sedona 17 miles.

Sedona

Sage brush balls gather in bunches, caught on the guard rail.
Oak Creek Canyon. The red rock rises.
I stop at Tlaquepaque to buy a pea pod necklace,
the pea a tiny pearl. A gift of love for my daughter.

The motel is within sight when the dashboard lights begin their frantic flashing.
Another repeat performance from the last two weeks.
Grateful my lodging is near, fretful of a possible travel interruption.
I stop for the night and consider the challenges of desert and wilderness.

Tomorrow will be soon enough to call a tow truck.

Flowering Cardon Cactus – Baja California’s Saguaro Look-Alike

Cardon Cactus in Bloom © 2014 Bo Mackison

Cardon Cactus in Bloom © 2014 Bo Mackison

Not a saguaro , but a relative!

The giant cardon cactus dominates many of the deserts of Baja California and the coastal region of the state of Sonora in Mexico. It is closely related to the saguaro of Arizona and Sonora, but cannot tolerate cold (unless carefully protected) so these two giant cacti occupy different geographical regions.

This specimen was in bloom at the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix on a visit in March, and it was my lucky day. It was the first of the year’s blooms.