The past couple of weeks has served to renew that understanding.
We left the Far Country of the Tonto and spent a couple of days parked in Tempe for a Dog agility trial... and then moved to PIR for a lil' bit of necessary job time... trying to subsidize the diesel bill.
Yesterday, with our NASCAR work done for a bit, and pretty much at the limit of my tolerance for Town... We ran for the desert. We're parked back on the desert for a couple of weeks to refresh a bit... and then have to return to PIR for another week of work at the Good Sam RV Rally.
|*a soft Desert Sunset*|
Sitting between the sunset last night... that was quiet and soft...
... and the gentle breeze that accompanied this morning's sunrise...
|*Break of Dawn on the Desert*|
I've noticed that... though a guy might want to just turn away from the noise of the world... the world ain't gonna let him just walk away without a fight. It throws in as much STUFF as it can to prod and provoke... hoping to trip him up and force him back into the fold...
Back on the ranch we had no TV and little radio. I went for weeks 'thout seein' a newspaper... and you know what? The stupidity of the talking heads and BS'ing politicos rattled right along just fine... without me.
Now-a-days... things bein' as they are, I'm required to "be in touch" so to speak... The beans on my table depend on me doing my thing here on the net... so ignoring the huge piles of fermenting road apples spewing out of the mouths of the propogandists employed by the Machine in D.C. on that same "Net" as I dip in here to get my work done... is a full time job.
They won't be ignored. It takes deliberate and conscious effort to turn off the sound coming from the bull spewing fools.
I'm remembering some old lines from one of Bill Cosby's stand up comedy routines. The one about the "Selective Hearing" of his dad and grand dad... I'm working at polishing up and putting that skill to work.
With a bit of effort I'm hoping I can tune out the vocal sewage we're all bludgeoned with...
'Cause, the simple truth is... No matter what I say or think, I'm not going to change what they do. Their trail has already been chosen. Nothing is going to turn ANY of those idiots from the path they're on... or even change that path. The puppet masters own that game, and I've not a shadow of the dinero required to buy into the game.
The only path I have control of... is my own. The only ability I have is to see those puppet strings... take out my K-Bar... and cut 'em.
Out here it's quiet. No strings... No fireworks. No Race track floodlight generators 24/7. No hot rods rumbling at 2 a.m. No sirens. Hell, there's little traffic on the road a couple of hundred yards away.
Only the sound of the wind in the Palo Verde trees.
It's the sort of place that heals the town tattered soul of a man, Born out of season. Born for a time, Long Gone By.
The silence is heavy on the Desert. Or in the High Up and Lonesome. A glorious heavy blanket that drowns out the voices of the clamoring idiots demanding their right to use the lives and property of everyone else.
Here, out in far country life is real. A friend sent me a link... a simple little video of Real Life. Pure Life.
Kind of puts things in perspective. This guy... or gal?... is honest. Just doing it's thing and living life. Without some parasite telling it... that it owes some of it's fish.... to the parasite... It has an honest life.
I wanna be an Osprey... or maybe a Falcon ;)