Present & Alert
The bright flash in the night sky caught my attention. It was as if someone was taking a picture of us from outer space. Another flash appeared a fraction of a degree to the south as we faced east toward the Sierra de San Pedro Mártir mountain range. The light moved about in the same general area for a few minutes and then suddenly disappeared. After weeks of observing the clear night sky, we hadn’t seen anything like this. We have heard stories of strange sightings in the area; some said to be US spy missions, and others yet unexplained. I am mostly noticing my own heightened sense of awareness to the world around me. The constant stimulation back in “civilization” has a numbing effect. After nearly six weeks of isolation, I am much more alert to sounds and animal behavior. I notice birds that come to our window and look in when the feeder is empty. Although my heart raced, I was excited to finally encounter a rattlesnake on the steps of the casita just before stepping on its trophy tail with ten pairs of rattles. Life is hard here in the high desert, and I have developed a greater sense of appreciation for the bio-diversity. We both hoped the encounter could pass without incident. I can’t help but think there might be a lesson here.
In solidarity with friends back in Oregon, we captured what we could of the solar eclipse using the pinhole method to project the partially blocked sun onto various backgrounds, like Linda’s landscape painting. The celestial event didn’t prevent the hot winds from blowing across the dusty road and dancing with sheets hanging on the line. It plays with the chimes and reminds us that we are not alone. Our sense of vulnerability has been heightened in recent days. Our truck is out of commission until our Condor Station angels can bring a part back with them next week. The US State Department just issued a warning to Americans about the dangers of traveling in this part of the country; siting an increase in kidnappings, carjacking, and murder of American tourists. Pepita started barking. She only barks when someone comes to the house. On the rare occasion that we have visitors, we have always known ahead of time. We were not expecting anyone. Looking through the kitchen window, Linda exclaimed,
“There’s a man standing outside by the fence!” Being miles from the nearest road, this was unbelievable. We had just watched Capote two nights before and had his book, “In Cold Blood” fresh on our minds. Threatening him with the air rifle didn’t seem right, so I approached him and found out his name was Bernardo "Chicote" (the Whip) Sainz Macias. He said he had worked on the ranch before and wanted to know if he could have a job here. Unable to offer him employment, we fed him, and made sure he had plenty of water and rations for his trip back to San Vicente. We felt humbled when he shared part of his lunch with well-fed Pepita. We have yet to see anyone panhandling. Everyone seems to find a way to make a living, even if it is cleaning windshields at the gas-station, or helping unload groceries for tips.
We look forward to what the next three weeks bring into our awareness. We can’t help but notice the apples and grapes ripening. Roadrunners, rabbits and gopher snakes are making more of an appearance as they move up here to where the water is. Lizards scurry as I walk the path to the stream, and frogs eye me suspiciously. We fly out of the San Diego airport to Longview, Texas on September 19th. We wonder what reentry will be like. Will we be able to retain our honed senses? I would love to hear what you do to escape sensory overload and remain present and alert.
