Hill country musings

Curves.
Sensual, alluring, compelling, calling for a gentle nudge here, a strong swift stroke there, up, down.

Moonlight.
Soft, creating mystery, cool light, speaking - calling to the inner wanderer.

Night wind.
Cool, fresh, all the smells of the day, the drying grains and grasses in the field, water over the next ridge, skunk a half mile back, playing with the moon and clouds. The smell of the gulf a hundred miles away, the pine forests, the prairies, all wrapped into one being. Feel the joy of the wind... of being free. To toss the wisps of clouds skittering across the moon. Calling to come play... to tell you the stories of the places its been.

All of these things together creates magic. A late spring evening finding me lost way out on some back road.... well, not exactly lost.. I was somewhere on a red squiggly line on a map, roughly between Hye and Blanco. The song of the wanderer filling my ears as the pavement sped beneath me. Stars filling the night sky, with moonlight so bright you could go on forever. Why do some of us have this need? Need to be free, to fly, to see the unknown. Its so rare... so many look at us with this wayward glance when they ask me what I did all weekend. How, in god's green earth, did it take you 12 hours to get to Dallas from San Antonio???

I wanted to see what was between here and there.

Oh, I've made the trip many times. I've gone the "conventional" way, the back way, the round about way, but they're all the old way. Lets find the new way. Plot a new course. Something with lots of curves, some really neat terrain, a lot of water, and open sky. Reflections of the weekend flashing through my mind. Tubing down the Comal river, an old fiddler in Kerrville sending up the most beautiful piece to the stars above... and a luscious little blonde with a glorious Texan twang walking up to my husband in Lukenbach and without hesitation or asking for a name, "Are you wearing a thong?" to which his prompt reply was "Are you?" which led to a rather interesting and amusing conversation.

Why do we do it? Why do we need it. When so many are comfortable in this digital age to sit at home and see the world from the comfort of their couch or computer chair. It would be cheaper and safer to just stay home. With the prayer that was the old fiddler's song still ringing in my ears, I knew the answer.

Life.

But what is the meaning of life? Why are we here? What purpose is it?

Simply to be alive. We are creatures born of pleasure and pain. Strife, passion, blood, sweat, rage, jubilation. A creature of pure energy, made of flesh from star stuff, here to wander.

But why do look at me so askance when they hear my answer? Why, even among those special people in my life, are those who cannot understand? Who cannot share that same passion... that same drive?

Not all are the same. No, there are no better or worse, but there is a difference of spirit. Some are here here to teach others, or to learn themselves.. others here to fight, to heal, to mend... And then there are some here to watch. Oh, we've been around this world a time or two.. played all the roles. Each of us has that special role we love playing, that one that feels so comfortable, but with one key difference. There is that passion... that lust for knowledge, for the new, for the unexplored. Not a thirst for danger, exactly. We are the pioneers that settled this great country. We are the adventurers who find what was lost. The records of our lives are kept not as a record of one person who tilled his fields, kept his sheep, and died old and happy... but as the one who brought back knowledge of what was beyond the great waters.

Speeding on through the night, the wind speaking of cactus blossoms, cool springs, and hidden glens.

Life is short.

Time is fleeting.

Change is forever.

Come see.