Dirt and Sky

You are not enclosed within your bodies, nor confined to houses or fields.  That which is you dwells above the mountain and roves with the wind….”  – Kahlil Gibran

Grief is sometimes like a transcendent gaze; you look down at yourself and what you are doing as if you have been detached from your body.  You watch the movie of your life alone from the back row of a dark, dirty little theater, shoes sticking to the floor, afraid every time light pours in from the opening door, hoping to forever hide in the shadows.  Some days you just go through the motions with no empathy at all for the main character in this movie, you; at the end of a bad day you wonder how you even accomplished the “normal” things.  Everything is different now, and you search for something to hold on to, something real…

Running is real.  Working out, pumping the weights, pounding the pavement, blood coursing through wide open veins, heart pounding, big gulps of breath filling screaming lungs; life courses through you, and you cannot deny it, you can’t hide in the shadows from it.  And it feels good.  We rent these incredible instruments for a spell, these vehicles for our light that can do these incredible, immaculate things, that are capable of carrying us to the greatest of heights, and through the lowest lows.

So I use mine now.  Let the rhythmic footsteps and breathing transport me to a better place, calming my mind and quelling my fears.  Let the endorphins soothe the pain, physically and emotionally.  Let the cleansing breaths refresh and rejuvenate at the cellular level, and let the sweat carry away the built up toxins of grief…

The Earth is real.  Today my footsteps pound the white rocks and yellow dirt of the great wide open Sonoran desert.  A solitary wilderness trail winds through the prickly pear and mesquite and yuccas, and the flat expanse of the desert is bounded on all horizons by far off purple mountains.  Large lobed jackrabbits and striking black-throated sparrows flee my approach, and I admire them for earning a living in a place that is so full of thorns and sharp edges.

At the top of a flat mesa I pull off trail and stop running.  From this vantage point I can survey the entire Verde valley.  A brown river cuts through it, its’ cottonwoods providing an emerald green necklace against the tan rocks.  After being penned in for so long in a beige cubicle and bounded by all these new responsibilities, the endless horizon is freeing.

The ancient ruins of Tuzigoot are outlined on a bluff in the river valley below me, marking human time and connecting it to the timelessness of the heavens and earth.  Burial plots from 1,000 years ago attest to the truth of the cycle of life and death; my grief is nothing special.  Indeed it is a necessary part of life; so I’ve been told.  What I need to understand now is how to uncover the gifts of grief, buried under the layers of vegetation and dirt that have accumulated around a topic mostly ignored and forgotten, like the ruins before archeologists did the tedious work to excavate it.

It feels right to kneel on this mesa top, to feel the rock cut into my skin under the bright sunshine, to say a prayer of remembrance to those that have gone before me, to those that would normally be here with me.  Alone on this mesa top, I let the wind dry my tears.

But as I gaze down on this valley, on the life giving river, on the ancient ruins and the thorny bushes and a trail cut through the desert, my heart begins to stir.  Instead of bowing in prayer to what I’ve lost, I can’t help but feel grateful for what I have right now – this view, this body, this experience of being alive right now!  I raise my arms in gratitude as my soul reaches for the sky…

And the sky is real.  This big desert sky, picture perfect blue painted with white cotton ball clouds, so crisp, so clear, so free here in the desert; I drink it in, and it fills me.  I must run!  It is downhill, my strides stretched full; I take off my shirt and let my skin soak up the warm afternoon sun, and let the wind evaporate the sweat that courses down my forehead and back.  It is exhilarating; it is freeing; it is like flying!

For the first time in a while I experience joy, pure joy, and my heart and soul are lifted high into the desert sky!  I run much faster than my normal pace, for I want to feel my heart pound again, want to feel my lungs burn and my muscles ache; I want to feel alive again, living, not just going through the motions.  And if only for this brief, glorious run, at least I know it is possible again…

But that is reason enough to rejoice.  My mind fills with song, and I sing out loud to the rocks and the trees and the rattlesnakes…

I fell back alone on a gray Sunday morn

[Heart aches with memories that are] tattered and torn

I stumbled along ‘til I stood [with the wide open desert]

The wind it blew cold as my soul finally started to stir

Yeah the afternoon sky it grew feathery wings

Lifted me high above everything

As darkness descended I knew I had only to sing

I had only to sing, yeah, yeah!

La la la la la la la la la la…

(Apologies to Bill Deasy for taking liberties with his lyrics [in brackets] to his incredible song “Levi”. Thanks for putting emotions to music, Bill – this song leaves me rejoicing and singing along every time…

You Tube video for the song:



3 thoughts on “Dirt and Sky

  1. Pingback: Exercise | Evening's Light

  2. Pingback: Dirt and Sky, Part III | from Broken to Blended

  3. Pingback: Traveling Companion | from Broken to Blended

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