Contemplation

Sunday, June 18, 2017, 5:08 AM, MDT. I woke early this morning to the sound of coyotes, singing good night to the moon and good morning to the sun. A simple act, one they have repeated since time immemorial.

Living as I do in suburbia, it is an unusual alarm clock for me; one that brings a needed reminder that life does not always follow our manmade rhythms of nine-to-five. Perhaps, more importantly, it reminds me that my life form and style is only one of a multitude on this planet that we call Earth, the planet we call home.  

Putting on the coffee, I step outside and open my ears, eyes, and mind to nature. Perhaps you would call this a spiritual moment, a period of meditation; for there is no sense of myself now. I am immersed and engaged, yet invisible, in the landscape that surrounds me. There is nothing I need attend to right now, nothing that requires my action or presence. Instead, my attention is caught by the jackrabbits, nibbling on the prairie grasses as they eye the sky for airborne predators. Fortunately, not the drones that catch our attention on the 6 PM news, but eagles and hawks soaring on thermals as they also search for breakfast. Meadowlarks and a host of other birds, whose calls I do not recognize as easily, chip their wakeup calls and greetings; a lizard scamper past the fire pit, and swallows a small, evidently tasty bug. Well, at least he thinks it is tasty!

Kathleen has joined me now, and we sip our coffee, talking quietly. We discuss how the landscape to the west of us, which was so brilliantly outlined last night by the setting sun, has a palette of greens, blues, browns and reds becoming visible to the eye as the sun illuminates the landscape, a landscape defined eons ago by ice and geologic shifts. We trace where water, a resource so precious to all life-forms, is still present beneath the ground, making itself known to us by the presence of trees; pathways of life, if you will.

Howie, our yellow lab/greyhound companion, came out of the trailer with Kathleen and is now cautiously exploring these surroundings, he is an urban dog; therefore, the scents and sounds available are unusual to him. He carefully extends his exploration of our campsite, going a little further with each trek, carefully eyeing his surroundings and keeping a watchful eye on us. He is, after all, our self-appointed protector!

My tranquility is momentarily disturbed as I reflect on the current attempts, not only in Utah but in most western states, to “take back” lands owned and managed by the federal government and put them under state control. Utah, and other states west of the Mississippi river, contain large portions of land ceded to the U.S. government in our respective state constitutions. These lands are now locked in the sights of state legislators as potential revenue sources; they could, the argument goes, be “privatized” and thereby generate short-term revenues to state budgets; budgets strapped by the on-going demand for government services. Legislators feel the need to increase revenues, and, cowards that they are, remain fearful that any attempts to raise taxes on those that demand services would be detrimental to their re-election. Does this movement affect me personally? You can bet the farm on that, I am camped on BLM land at this moment.

However, I push those thoughts out of my mind for now; Kathleen and I came here to enjoy ourselves; I can deal with this nasty subject at a later date and time.

This trip has been a weekend-long period of meditation for me, a period of reflection. I have experienced many changes and upheavals in my life over the past several weeks, and needed time to think and talk about these changes and how they have affected me, and those people near and dear to me. These changes were inevitable, and in retrospect, necessary for my continuance as a person; change, however, is often painful and difficult. Some of you are aware of these changes, and for your love and support, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

In particular, I cannot find the words to thank you enough, Kathleen. You are my life-long companion, and even through these events of late, you have supported and loved me, as difficult as these events and changes been for both of us. I am eagerly anticipating our new adventures and escapades as life continues to unfold.  (Poorly worded, but it’s the best I can do!)

Thank you for reading; your comments, as always, are appreciated.

 R.M. “Bob Hartman