Place


“SOFT WIND”,36″ x 6′, m/m
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In Santa Fe we live with dirt.

And we love it.

When one builds a home, there is a choice of about 12 different colors of stucco to choose from.

Each is the color of earth found locally.

The result is that when I look out over the wide landscape of my beloved town, I can’t tell who has money or who doesn’t because each home looks like the landscape…dirt.

It is the great equalizer.

The other thing that happens is that one can not tell how very many people inhabit this place because all the colors are so natural that the distinction between home and land is blurred.

Sometimes, I am just called to go visit a church I know on off days (meaning not Sunday..)

It is made of adobe which are earthen bricks.

They have weight and volume which are quite different than ceramic bricks we are used to.

When I visit this church, everything in me slows to a hush.

It is a marvel of a structure with it’s ceiling height and 200+ year history.

I go in and sit in a front pew.

No one else is there.

Sometimes a stooped and hobbled human arrives and visits the adjacent small chapel dedicated to one or another saints or deity.

The place holds a perfect combination of the preciousness of both The Great Mystery and our own humble and miraculous selves trying our damnedest to sweep our own floors to make room for our Selves.

Often, in churches, I get overwhelmed by the heaviness of spent tears and sorrows given over after the weight becomes intolerable.

Particular places are generous in that way. They hold what we can’t.

But this building made of humble earth feels like the gentlest of car washes; the softest mist of wet, almost imperceptable,
attracts the grit of life and takes it down some invisible drain.

I leave there soft and ready.

Ready to begin again.

I never think too much after I leave there.

I seem uninterested in ‘what just happened.’

I just take the gold and try to spread it around a bit.

But only if I’ve enough to spare.

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