There’s no “movie freedom”. Everywhere you go, you got to drive a car. You got to sign the lease. You got to clock in, and you have to remember. And you never own your own soul. Never, nowhere, and that’s that. So I’m dazzled by Marilyn in The Misfits, and I’m alone in Nevada in my mind. I remember the song, “smoking’ cigarettes and drinking’ coffee blues.” I think I’ve been everywhere.
On the eve of my 39th birthday, I saw again the soul of my life fall from my heart. It was the day the summer heat broke, and the sky was grayer than I’ve seen in five years. Rain and goldenrod. Grandpa and I sat outside in the August wind. I closed my book of American Indian Wars, and saw the soul of my life fall like lightning. Then, I waited and thought again. I can relax with my kachinas, and my grandpa. How those rain clouds moved quick and low!
“Only Love”
- Don Williams
Only love will do
Only love comes true
Keeping my eyes on the cross.
“I can’t even walk without you holding my hand.” It’s a North Carolina tobacco summer. I’m reading my Bible, you know. I mean, I’m here in this world, but kind of only partially. I’m distracted by Elijah and Elisha. I feel the heat of the Sun, and I see them clouds and cars, and I reckon I know there’s a physical air space all around me. But I’m also in my imagination, and in my heart. And in my imagination, words become movies of stories of Elisha. I don’t know what else there is. It’s a beautiful North Carolina tobacco summer, with music, sweet, sweet sounds of music. Everything is spiritual, and a bit difficult, especially, remembering. In 2 Kings 6, Elisha prayed for God to open the young man’s eyes. And God opened his eyes, and he saw the horses and chariots of fire on the mountains all around them. That reminds me of the wild mustangs on the Nevada hills. They were mustangs of fire, wild and glorious, and I saw them. Oh, to have your eyes opened, and see all there really is. Dear Lord, open my eyes. Amen.
It’s kinda hard to find a lost place in the United States. Like a place so lost that God asks you “What are you doing here?” God asked Elijah that in 1 Kings 19. I’ve been thinking about that a lot. What place is so lost that God speaks to you “What are you doing here?” I searched the United States, and I found secret places, but in a way, they weren’t as lost as I hoped for. I was always less than a hundred miles from a convenience store or cell phone reception. The world is peopled, and conquered. But in some places, I did achieve a fleeting and grand aloneness. Top of Mt. Shasta, Western Kansas, Coverdale, NM, Puerto de Luna…. what a thrill, getting lost and lonely in the world, what a thrill…
Maybe,…maybe, maybe…. Maybe she took as much money as possible, and as much time and life, and as much emotion and everything valuable. And maybe, the heart was shattered. The framework of the mind, vaporized. Maybe, the doors of perception were cleansed, allowing you to see things as they truly are, infinite. Maybe, she took as much money as possible. Because: money. I guess it’s a thing. Maybe the mind was vaporized. Maybe the eyes were completely reborn, maybe a world record of tears rained from the eyes. I remember the tears were HOT on my face. Oh, to cry. To weep. To know and remember the names of those who disappeared while I was still caught up reminiscing about how the last Christmas together was so fun. I died, you know, cause I was just having fun. The great crucifixion of having too much fun with people you trust. The great mistake of thinking: here, here, I belong. No. Wrong. Very, very wrong. Watch the greatest garden you ever known burn away. But in the spirit of ashes, in exile from yourself, in salty hot tears, and the disappearance of “friends”, I saw a great unveiling of the Sacred Heart of Life, which is ineffable, which is everything and greater, and greater: NEW MEXICO,…and…the only thing in the world (the world I know, the world I experience, the world of my personal life)…Johnny Cash, Nevada, and JESUS (The Sacred Heart of Life). I’m very serious, and true to the voice.
Bob Dylan, and George Harrison, and the sound of music, and Southern Gospel, and passionflowers, and tobacco, and hot dogs, and the summer heat, and Mom’s countless puppies, and a quilt knitted by my great grandmother, and wearing my grandpa’s old cowboy shirts to church, and the Civil War, and the Sun, and memories, and friendships that never age, and beets, and grapes, and the Bible, and me, inexplicably being among shimmering scenes that burn my heart in the ultraviolet light of love. And Amy, and Colorado.
Life is so impossible. It is too hot today, August 15, 2026. Life is impossible. “Is your spirit weary? Tell me more, tell me why.” Not even my Bluetooth is working, and I can’t hear the song I need to hear now. “Tell me more about the BLUES.” Bluetooth blues? That’s not even a song idea, just the truth. “Your blue truth is your Bluetooth blues?” Okay. Yes. Roasting in the Carolina summer heat. What a summer. Now tell me more about AUGUST 15th…, “the fifteenth day of the eighth month.” Reminds me of 1 Kings 12. What else?
The Bible says:
2 Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters,[a]whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 4 Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. (James 1:2-4)
“Consider it pure joy whenever you face trials.”
A couple of things are on my mind. First, how many times in your life will your grandparents visit you at work? Thank you for coming to see me today, Pa and Granny. Priceless experiences and precious memories. Second, Sammy Davis Jr. God bless the day when you discover Sammy Davis Jr. “I’ve Gotta Be Me” I’ve gotta be me!
All Thing Must Pass (album) by George Harrison. Thank God, the wind is blowing a cool breeze on the back porch this morning. “What is Life” (song) by George Harrison. “Behind That Locked Door”…Hearing so many whispers…Am I less than a blade of grass? “Please let out my heart from behind that locked door.” Please let out my heart from behind that locked door. Aren’t you dazzled, too dazzled to speak? He who keeps my eyes from closing, and He who sends me to sleep, I am too dazzled to speak.
Psalm 77 and “Into the Mystic” by The Wallflowers. The only things I’m good at is drinking coffee, smoking, and driving. I’m only interested in sage, sunsets, and picking the guitar. “Rock my gypsy soul into the mystic.” I can imagine jamming with King David and Asaph. Open mic night before the Ark, in the Temple. I wonder did they jam in the “Well of Souls” (the cave under the Temple Mount)? I would live in Jerusalem if they let me, but I wonder if it could be more mystic than New Mexico. God loves music; I’m so in! Jesus loved mountains; I’m so in! King David, sing more poetry! How my heart is spread across America! Give me California, and Kansas, and Nevada, and Montana! But what about North Carolina, home of Carolina girls. Yes they are angels (Mom and Grandma, and I guess a few exes). I’m only good at drinking coffee, smoking, and driving for days and days. Gas stations and the radio. What a loafer I could be! Loafing, which I know Walt Whitman wrote about. Transcendental Christian seeks home in New Mexico. May I cry more in more art galleries, like I did in Great Falls, and Oklahoma City. I’d even live in Wyoming if You let me. Can’t I just be Mark Maggiori’s assistant, cut his grass, or sweep the floors? How hilariously little I have to offer! I’d happily be a cemetery groundskeeper. I would talk to the ghosts, and play guitar for them. Hear me Spirits! “I commune with my heart in the night…I meditate and search my spirit…O God is holy, Thou art the God who workest wonders. (Psalm 77). Hear my cry O God! Take me into the mystic.