Pay It Forward, Santa Fe
Mural by @ianthepainter, Tesuque Village Market
Leaving Taos for Santa Fe the morning after the Big Barn Dance was a little rough. My introvert side was emotionally drained, my body was sore, and I NEEDED french toast.
I stopped at a little diner and sat at the counter with a man who chatted with me. We had the nicest conversation and he bought me breakfast, saying that he likes to “pay it forward” sometimes. He and the waitress encouraged me to keep my plans to stop by Ghost Ranch, one time dude ranch, set of City Slickers (one of my favorite movies as a kid), and Georgia O'keeffe’s desert retreat off and on for 20 years.
Gutiz, Taos NM
It was my first taste of the quintessential southwestern landscape: Red and ocher plateaus shot up from rocky sagebrush canyons, spires of red rock reached up like fingers from the dry land, and in the midst was Ghost Ranch. It is now a retreat center, but you can go and hike around the landscape that inspired many of O’keeffe’s famous works. I chose a short hike up Chimney Rock and ended up on top of a plateau, looking out over the top of one such rocky finger while a summer storm played magically with the light and clouds. It was unlike anything I’d seen before and it blew my mind.
The rain followed me down to Santa Fe, where I was greeted by a hail storm of incredible power that lasted about 10 minutes. It cracked open at a moment that I was needing to make a decision about staying or leaving this casita. The water smelled strongly of sulphur, the people made me nervous, and the wifi was painfully slow, hindering my work. I had an out, but I felt guilty taking it, and as I was deliberating on whether or not to pull the trigger, the skies cracked open and let loose with horizontal hail. It felt like a sign. “GET OUT”. So I did, and ended up in a place right in the middle of town, walking distance to the central plaza and the arts district of Canyon Road.
Interface, Susan Stamm Evans, GF Contemporary, Canyon Road
It rained the first few days and I was only there for a week, but I did go see the Toltec teacher I’d met in Taos. She lives on an incredible piece of land 30 minutes south of Santa Fe with a quartz mine and rock formations bubbling up all around. We sat on her porch and she told me about the intensive in Teotihuacan, near Mexico City. “Teo” is a city of pyramids, built by a mysterious culture 1000 years before the Aztecs found it abandoned and named it “The Place Where the Gods Were Created”. It was once believed to be built by the Toltecs, but its origins now seem to be in question. Regardless, it is said to be a place of great power, and the work there will be deeply spiritual and focused on awakening to the truth of who we are. I’ve long been fascinated with the ancient cultures of Central America, especially the Maya, and felt a connection to the Mayan ruins in Tulum and Chichen Itza when I visited. A spiritual journey in such a place feels very aligned with the journey I am now on. It felt like I was meant to be on that porch, pouring my heart out, and we both could see some striking similarities between our experiences walking in this world. But I was still hesitant: Could I take the time off of work? How would It work out with my roadtrip schedule? Was this for real?
She also offered me a beautiful casita she had on the property, if I wanted to slow down for a bit, but I sat with it and felt the need to continue on for now, with the strong desire to return someday. On my way out of her place I saw my first fearsome Tarantula. I had almost cancelled my trip through the southwest when I learned that this was their mating season and they would be coming out in droves looking for love. I faced my fear and came anyway, and didn’t see a single one in Taos. But here he was, surrounded by bikers who had stopped in the middle of the road to take pictures, and then they left him there to deal with oncoming traffic. I drove by slowly and we regarded each other. As big as he was, I felt bad for him in his predicament and hoped that he made it to the other side alive, though I was glad to be safely in my car.
Blue grass at a gallery, Canyon Road
The rest of the week was sweet and easy. I went hiking of course, wandered the beautiful Plaza and Canyon Road art galleries, took a watercolor class, grabbed dinner and drinks with an awesome friend of a friend, and found some great live music. I met a fellow warrior woman at a vintage store and sat chatting with her for quite a while. She was strong, and inspiring, and AWAKE. I took the advice of the many ladies from the Barn Dance and dined at an amazing rooftop patio, watching the sunset and talking with a lovely couple from Kansas. When I tell strangers what I’m doing on this grand adventure, the women look at me like I’m a hero. The men often regard me warily at first, like I’m a potential threat: If she can do it, leave it all, what’s stopping any one else from choosing to be free? But soon they see this journey is a very personal one.
I’m not here to tell you that it’s easy, though it’s all I can possibly do right now. I’m not here to say it’s for everyone. If all the death, sickness and suffering of the last year hadn’t have happened, if everything hadn’t fallen apart and left me completely bereft, I might not have known what it’s like to answer a calling that I could no longer ignore. I might not have been here now, or connected with you in our one beautiful moment. But here we are, there we were, and how we will be! People light up when I tell them my story, and then they tell me their story. We laugh, we cry, we hug it out. We have that moment of truth forever. This is what it’s like to approach the world with an open heart. I carried this feeling with me to Sedona on my next harrowing adventure. And on my way, when a man asked me if I would help him out with a couple of gallons of gas for his van at the station, I thought, “pay it forward”.
La Fonda Rooftop Bar, Santa Fe
