January 30, 2024- I came upon the heart-shaped mineral, admiring its inherent sublime beauty. Picking it up, and feeling its smoothness, just for few minutes, gave me an appreciation of the heat, the pressure and the various cracks and separations that this piece of finery endured, over millennia, to arrive here, along Highland Nature Center's Trail #4442. I noted that it has, underneath, a perfect heart-shaped indentation in the ground.
A quiet testimony to the love of the Universe
After placing the stone carefully back over its indentation, I thought of the value of solitude. What would I do, if everyone I cared about, including the woman with whom I could easily and happily spend the rest of my Earthly life, were to disappear from this life? What would I do, if they all decided they'd had enough, and left me on my own? I would be like the rock, still occupying my space and still reflecting the strength that the Divine has imparted into me. I would be ready for whatever came next.
As long as we draw breath, there is a purpose. As long as we have form, shape, solidity, there is a future. I went there, to Highland Center's trail to Lynx Creek, having not been on it for several years, after another event was canceled, due to a scheduling conflict. The trail showed me the seemingly endless stretch of the Bradshaw Mountains, to the south and southeast.
Bradshaw Mountains, stretching south from Lynx Lake
After a stretch, I came to Lynx Creek, frozen on its surface, about a mile from the lake that was formed when it was dammed, in 1952. Of course, being Arizona, the ice is scarcely an inch thick.
Lynx Creek, at Highland Nature Center
Coming out of my reverie, I recognized that this morning of solitude was largely due to everyone else being busy with life, as I am myself, most days. My dearest, across the ocean, was asleep-and besides, she is in the midst of a very busy week. My friends here are likewise dealing with life's happenings. I will be back in that regimen, myself, tomorrow and for the rest of 2024's fifth week. Today, though, it is as if I have Planet Earth to myself-looking at the stretch of the Bradshaws, this morning and at the shimmering oak tree, in my neighbour's front yard, as I write this piece.
Here is a gratuitous reminder of that regimen, from yesterday's trip to Phoenix: The Arizona State Capitol.
The house with the copper dome
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