to Repeat:
"The word doesn't translate. It is used in Spanish to designate that mysterious little area in the bullring that catches the fancy of the fighting bull when he charges in. He imagines it his sanctuary: when parked there, he supposes he cannot be hurt....So it is, borrowing the term, that one can speak of one's "querencia" to mean that little, unspecified area in life's arena where one feels safe, serene." William F. Buckley Racing Through Paradise
These words had huge significance to me when i first came to New Mexico. When, leaving for almost a year, then coming Back. When i moved here, to this small acre, Great meaning. When driving back Home from the visit to my mother in Minnesota. And last, when driving home from the airport long term parking lot after flying to San Diego for my granddaughter giving birth to her son. The woman in the parking booth, collecting fees, asked me where i'd been. I told her and she said "Oh, and you had to come back", and i burst into tears and cried all the way home down I-25.
In a conversation with Cynthia, she gave these words...."entering the arena of the old".
Entering the arena of the old.
these words have sifted through all the rest. Entering the arena of the old. I am that child down at the creek, the invincible 17 year old, the first time mother of 26 years, the restless woman of 39 years, the one who set out i don't know what year and then....the one who just went. For a long time. A long time of Just Going. but now.....
Threshhold. A place between Here and There. From where i am to where i will go: Entering the arena of the old. Here i am. and funny...i have always love the Idea of it, since i was a child. But arriving with no turning back, well.....it's going to take some Work.
the Goats. The Goats were/are a kind of Basket to put things in because they are so Obviously a Change and so so FULL of all manner of things. But i really think the Goats are not It at all. It is that realization of the Threshhold. So. OK. The Goats are PART of IT, but really, its the sense of Finite. Such finite time, so much to love and How Best to Love It.
Today, the Dog Cloth arrived at Wendy's. It was Worked in the Sand Tray. "it was buried and unburied and there was howling and barking".
any time i look in her direction, she is looking Back at me
the Roots go
the blue....water....is it something that needs to be here? I don't know. Maybe
