It was 28° in Las Cruces, New Mexico yesterday morning. A light frost covered the ground. By 4 p.m. in the afternoon, we arrived in Casa Grande, just a few miles north of Tucson, Arizona. The temperature was nearly 80 degrees. Who could ask for more?
As we drove through Deming, New Mexico, I thought of John and Reola (my brother and his wife). They have spent time camping at the Rock Hound Park near Deming. My brother has exercised his passion for collecting rocks there!
Driving into Arizona we passed by Cochise’s Stronghold and I thought of the Apache people. It is always sad to recall the history of native Americans and how they were treated (and still are) by our government.
As we drove through Tucson I thought of Harold Bell Wright, one of my favorite authors. He lived in Tucson for many years and some of the streets in the city are named after characters from his novels. Tucson is Kim’s (our daughter-in-law) hometown. I thought of the day when I had the privilege of officiating at Kim and Luke’s wedding as we drove through the city. All these thoughts fill my mind as I drive along the highway. There is never a dull moment. My mind whirls around the particular thought and carves out new understandings of my soul’s journey.
In every mountain stone, in every wood’s gnarled log,
|Antelope Canyon AZ-2016|
the huddled spirits smother and cry to skillful hands
The one who cries is not God, demon, or the wind’s sound,
for it’s your own enslaved soul that cries out for freedom!
One night while sleeping in my workshop all alone
I heard a marble block cry out in the still night;
it was my own enslaved soul crying, choked in stone.
At once I leapt from sleep, seized all my sharpest tools
and in the lamp’s dim light began to hew the block
and crash through the thick prison walls to free my soul,
till finally at dawn the godly head emerged,
cool and rejoiced, and deeply breathed the crystal air.
Slowly I freed its breast and shoulders, its lean loins,
and as it rose from stone to light, my own jailed head,
my shoulders, chest, and loins were also slowly freed;
and when my soul had from my hands wholly emerged
it raised its eyes to the sky and soared like a giddy bird!
(The Odyssey, A Modern Sequel, Nikos Kazantzakis)