High Desert Morning Musings

FRIDAY. Morning frost and cloudless azure skies continue to surprise me. Though temperatures generally climb to 60 or better by early afternoon, morning temps are well below freezing. The icy air provides a dramatic backdrop for tall sunrise shadows dancing on sand-colored adobe walls. I love my magical early morning walks with Murphy.

Having spent the last three years baking in Florida, wearing little more than shorts and t-shirts, I find dressing for colder weather confusing, not to mention time consuming. It's impossible to color coordinate all those layers, so vanity takes a back seat to warmth on chilly days. What took 23 seconds flat in Florida now takes 5 minutes or more.

I'm still reeling from the loss of my friend and client, Peter, though thoughts turn more and more to gratitude for having such a dear soul in my life for many years. It's hard to imagine he won't be faxing me another chapter for his book, or a memo, or a business plan. My brain just can't seem to wrap itself around the concept of death. We're simply not programmed to understand this baffling notion. Death is the great mystery.

The truth is, Peter is still here with me. Some days I feel him just over my right shoulder, his gentle presence with me as much now as when he walked the planet. My frustration over not being able to say goodbye melts when I realize he's still close at hand. He lives on in memory, and in my heart. Some days it seems there's but a thin veil between me and the departed. It's this physical earthsuit that fosters the illusion of separation and the debatable idea that death is, indeed, the final curtain.

Stepping outside the confines of linear time may help us glimpse other possibilities. Quantum physics tells us, for example, that the behavior of matter is dependent upon the observer. Expectation and intention seem to determine action at a subatomic level. This paints a very different picture of reality. Life is no longer a series of random events, but a creative process--and we are the creators, dreaming our own lives! Quite possibly, life really is but a dream (sh-boom, sh-boom...). The idea that life, the universe and everything in it could be an illusion dates back more than 2,000 years. The Chinese philosopher Chuang Tzu, who died in 295BC, wondered whether his entire life might be no more than a dream.

In spite of cold autumn mornings, New Mexico seems to agree with me. Being here is very grounding. This land feels spiritual and sacred. The mountains are spectacular, and there are few things more calming than endless desert viewed from high ground. I seem to be finding mySelf again--a Self I temporarily lost in Florida. It's as though I've just awakened from a protracted slumber. Living in Florida was, at times, not unlike a really long vacation. My sole purpose, it seemed, was dangling my feet in the pool and throwing a frisbee to the dog. I'd spend hours happily staring at fish jumping in the canal, perfectly content to do nothing. It's a wonder I held my business together and did any work at all. I guess I just needed a respite--some time to regroup. There's a reason why Floridians call their home state Paradise. Two thousand miles away, I miss the heat, the hypnotic sound of palm trees swaying in the breeze, dolphins in the harbor, and balmy, tropical nights. I miss my family. But it's comforting to know I can return to Florida almost anytime for brief or extended visits.

Sometimes I think life is nothing more than an exercise in letting go. Letting go of people, places and things are daily occurrences for all of us. As well, we often need to let go of concepts and beliefs. Letting go makes room for the new. It's an expectation of joy and wonder that lies ahead. It's a welcoming of the unknown, an anticipation of new adventures. When we let go with grace, transition effortlessly, and fearlessly live in the moment, we've got it made.

As Loretta LaRoche reminds us, Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and today is a gift--that's why they call it the present. And with that, I let go of my ramblings and musings for today, and ground myself in the present so I can get some work done.