From Behind the Eyes of the Beholder...

or... the Cowboy calling the Townie judgmental... a variation of the pot calling the kettle black.

Take a walk in the Arizona desert with a small herd of travelers... and you'll likely get it all from; "Oh My God! This is beautiful" to my Grandfather's (an Ohio Farmer)  frowning derision; "What a bleak and barren wasteland!"

*Arizona wasteland to some ~ Joyous space to breathe to others*

I can't but admit, the country is stark. It can bully and intimidate... as even I felt, standing beside my motorcycle on a high point along the highway deep in the Yukon. I was staggered by the awesome weight of the SPACE... Fearful and giggling happy, all at the same time.

The danger is to recoil from it... and many other things... and then spin your feelings into derision that you color other folks lives with. It's a danger to be guarded against... and one of which I know I am as guilty.

Stop and truly look... make sure you see... Before you render your judgement... and if you still feel the need to belittle and ridicule... go in the bathroom and look in that shiny square on the wall... you might have better luck finding the Real difficulty that way. ;)

A small example; I have, in the past, expressed my disregard for Class B rigs... A shot from the hip, unthinking criticism. Much like ridiculing another man's horse... that you've never ridden. In honesty, the only thing you Can say is; "It don't appeal to me." cuz in pure an' simple reality... 'thout walkin' a mile in their moccasins... you (or me) ain't truly got a clue!

Now... several years later... after having seen more than one person either living in a plain old cargo box trailer, with their possibles in a selection of rubbermaids or a TINY lil' RV... and seeing the lightness in which they live... I admire the quality of their characters, the power they exert over their egos... and the un-fettered Shining Times they can savor. I am often jealous... but try as I might, though I know it to be GOOD... I haven't been able to cut off nearly as much of the freight I carry as they.

*Not a flashy camp... yet not as light as some...*

 I have chosen to deliberately pull in my horns and work a mite harder to see behind the eyes of a partic'lar Beholder before I bless the world with my personal variety of wisdom. ;) My intention being (In Most things) to contain my criticisms within the purr-am-uh-turs of either; "I don't get it... or ... it don't appeal to me.)

In respect to that... any "What the hell were they thinkin'?" comments you see here should be perceived as an "I don't get it" comment. ;) with the occasional lapse thrown in to keep my ego in check. (You can't totally stop the Wyoming wind neither!) ;)

I'm constantly impressed with the refusal of life to quit tryin'.

I can't hang a lot of hope on this lil' Paloverde's effort at prosperity. At maybe 6" tall, in this dry desert, its prospects are kinda lean, based on it's choice of locations... rising out of a solid bed of rock...

But... just the same, I'm not gonna go bettin' against it neither.

I remember a tree in Wyoming... It rises up out of a boulder sitting between the two sides of Interstate 80 a short drive west of Cheyenne.

That tree has been there as long as I can remember... and likely from before I was born... and will likely endure till past the time that I'm Coyote feed...

Or those Bristle Cone Pines on the mountainside behind our Red Canyon camp up in Utah. If you stop and let it rattle around inside your brain pan for a while, their struggles pretty much dwarf our difficulties don't they?

... and we have the luxury of pulling up our roots, literally! and moving on to seek our futures...

As I wander through this life I am slowly coming around to a conscious way of measuring what I and others do. I measure not by law or convention... but by the rule of Right and Proper.

What impact is what I do going to have on the land that supports me? Are my choices paid for by MY efforts or some sort of Barter? OR... by Taking from others. How do my words and actions color the world and the lives around me? I also apply that judgment to the actions of those around me... Do we seek balance... or Preference?

It's a revealing microscope to apply to life...

The Desert can be a land of humility
Brian

Listen to the Whispers...

Hitched up and bumped 25 miles... to what I call "Bouse Camp"...

*The soft end of another day on an Arizona Trail*

After 40+ years of drifting at different speeds, straddling different modes of transport; from the seats of pickup trucks and Motorcycles to horseback and military cargo planes and even my thumb a time or three... on different trails... from Nogales to Fairbanks and beyond... There's not a whole lot of country I've not at least nicked the fringes on.

The road is a picky, and judgmental compatriot. Sometimes it chooses to push you away. Its saddle don't fit every one. Some folks get weary and sore after just a few months. Some take years... and others... it's a whole different deal. Somehow the road can sort out the ones who just aren't built to appreciate it.

For some, it burrows down deep and sets a hook in their guts. The farther those poor devils get from the open road and the wind in their faces as they chase the constantly receding horizons... the harder the line on that hook pulls, and the worse their unease and sickly feeling.

Somewere...  Deep in my guts... is an old rusty hook.

Utah has its canyon walls that tower over you... cutting off the horizon and sometimes the sky itself.

Montana runs from prairies that stretch beyond your imagination to mountains that swell your soul.

Idaho, Washington, Oregon all have their own personalities... as you can tell the home range of a rider by his hat and gear... most drifters could be transported in their sleep to new country, and tell you where they were after a minute or two of looking around when they woke up...

Arizona is no less. It runs from the lowest deserts to rocky peaks above timberline. It has the Junipers, and Pines and Adobes of New Mexico... yet there remains a stark yet indefinable difference between the two. When you cross the line, going either direction... you know it without seeing the border sign.

As much as I love all the other lands I wander so freely in and could not survive without... I Always feel like I've come home when I cross the border into Arizona.

Alongside the Grand Canyon, the things probably most spoken of when the Subject of Arizona comes up... is first the concrete blistering heat of a Phoenix Summer! ;) and then ... her Sunsets.

Every sunset yields a stack of photographs nearly impossible to choose between. It's like reaching into your pocket and pulling out a handful of diamonds. How do you choose to discard any?

If you wait just a minute or two the light changes and the vision in front of your eyes morphs into something new.

It's like a herd of horses. They've all got two ears, four hooves, eyes, flowing manes and indomitable spirits... but each has its own spark, its own personality... its own value... like so much of this life of Freedom. Each day, so much like all the others that led here, each day has maybe just one small moment that sets it apart from the others.

Life is often a confusion... made more trying to understand, by the noise of soh-sigh-uh-tee with it's unending cacophony of grasping drivel.

Like I've been advised here by other drifters and those that wish to be... Turn up the Stereo... Pop a top... lock out the  noxious cacophony and search out those fragile, fleeting, visions and personalities...

Or, just kick back and revel in another Arizona sunset.

The more of  those fleeting moments you find... the more polished your instincts to locate 'em become. You find yourself turning down narrow roads, away from where the sign directs... because some internal voice whispers... Here... just down here...

... and at the end of those vague trails... you find your pockets full of diamonds.

... Listen to the Whispers

Weighted down with full pockets
Brian

Winter...Nope... It Just Ain't my favorite time...

Winter's are hard on me... not so much the body... but that lil' grey pod rattling 'tween my ears takes a pretty good beating.

When I was lil', and still trapped in the city, I delivered newspapers at ten degrees. Cowboyin' I pushed cows at 15 below, chopped ice at 25 below... fed all day at 115 above in Arizona to waaaaaay below in Colorado...

I've rode my motorcycles at 10 degrees splittin' the wind with a grin, and the wide eyed looks of townies that KNEW they'd seen an un adulterated mind broke idiot !... and come home caked solid with snow...

Weather ain't a fear. Nor difficult tasks or failure. I can deal with whatever comes. Been there, bucked off that bronc... and swung my leg right back over!

But... Time. That there is a tee total different thing.

I can deal with solid, get my hands a good grip on it, "Things" and reality... It's TIME that seems to be the tough nut to handle; The dang thing too slippery to get a decent grip on.

It's sitting Static that brings me to grief. It's like I'm sitting in an open field and I can feel the cross-hairs of Time taking a bead on the bridge of my nose. THAT's a target a blind man couldn't miss!...it makes my liver quiver and leaves me wigglin' and squirming like a cut worm.

Winter is where we, of necessity, slow down our slower way of going... and time stacks up on me.

We work at keeping the miles under control to stretch our meager possibles to cover our subsistence. We use winters to try and catch up a bit from the rambling of summer.

It's that winter, static... NOT goin' down the road so much, that gets to gnawin' sore spots on my liver.

I get restless and cranky, with too much time for schemin', when I've got to go without new visions keepin' my senses busy collecting more mental video clips.

For the UN-initiated... it's those times of unfettered and cut loose schemin' that's generally been the source of much of the excitement along my trail.

Yes sir... give me 'nuff time to scheme up a Really Good Idea... and I'm genuinely over my head in a Deep Sheep Dip! It generally falls within the pur-am-uh-turs of that Red Neck Cliche' of; "Hey Fellas! Hold my beer and Watch THIS!"

Here it is only the end of November and I'm already winding up tight. I'm so itchy I'm stretchin' the pavement twixt here and Bouse at speeds that has the boondocker brushed up under a Paloverde tree along the road asking; "What the hell was that?!!!" when he sees a red blur... and I rumble past.

I've made some hard choices... pretty much forced some arbitrary decisions on that smokin' brain pan of mine with the goal of simplifying things and quieting some of the noise...

Yeah right... quiet the noise... and the wind won't blow in Wyoming, Politicians'll quit their lyin'... and the check's in the mail...

The problem with me remains... Time... too much time. Time to question and wonder and second guess... While a will power that has a feeble ability to Over Power my basic instincts to say; "To Hell with it! Let the chips fall! Let's Roll!" and then just crack out and RIDE! tries to do just that... force me onto a  clear trail... when it's Bushwhackin' that holds my attention...

Ah... the life of a bunch quittin', drifting Rover in a world of herds.

*Arizona Sunrise*

*Arizona Sunset ... pointing the way west*

Sunset... that time of day when the mind quiets... and the schemin' slows... you just breathe... and listen to your heart.

I wish they could put THAT in a pill ;) ... Sunsets and Motorcycles... the guy would make billions if he could figger a way to bottle it.

Toughin' it Out... One way or the other
Brian