- Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Anima Poetae from the Unpublished Note-Books of Samuel Taylor Coleridge
“For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. …
Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life. …
When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. Let God speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent. You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. But every step and every day lead you back again to the mother. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all."
― Hermann Hesse, Bäume. Betrachtungen und Gedichte
every time i go into town i have to race back before sunset because my beautiful two hour drive from the grocery store can turn into a four hour drive full of windy turns, treacherous cliffs, blinding fog, and lurking, sneaky black cows (it's open range out here and they like to hang out in the middle of the road, especially when it's dark and the fog is as thick as pea soup). this results in experiencing an uncanny amount of supernatural sunsets.
epic drive day 5 : my dad agreed to meet me in vegas instead of arizona so i could fly out easily. we both live at the ends of the earth and flying can be both problematic and expensive. this made my last day a drive from barstow to vegas, rather than chino valley, which of course brought this quote to mind : "We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like "I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive..." And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas. And a voice was screaming: "Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?" that's the very same question both of us couldn't stop asking ourselves, and each other, for the duration of our one night stay in vegas.
1. i was spotted wandering around this oil field with my little blue cooler when an alarmed, armed worker came flying across the dirt track in his pickup, screeched to a halt in a cloud of dust, and exclaimed, "you lost?!" to which i replied, "no, but you have some beautiful oil wells here." i pulled out the polaroid, held it up sheepishly, and inquired, "is this alright?" as a huge grin crossed his face, he waved, slowly rolled forward, looked back one last time, and drove on, leaving me be.
2. after getting back on the desolate highway, i was starstruck for the first time ever when a group of hells angels, suited up in fully patched colors, surrounded the car on all sides and collectively gave me a round of nods. they knew what kind of engine was under this gas guzzler's hood. i nodded back, lips stern, one hand on the steering wheel, keeping my cool. then, in a symphony of revving engines, they sped off into the distance. and i squealed like a giddy schoolgirl.