Suddenly I Am Amazed

The daily guide of the August 2010 Science of Mind Magazine tells me—no—reminds me that life is amazing, that I am, in truth, amazing. Yes, I’ve heard this before. At times I’ve even believed it. I know about what I call amazing days, amazing happenings, which most times are not really so much amazing as they are life affirming.

Yesterday, as I sat with a group that gathers each Wednesday at noon, listening to the others check in on their week, I smiled as one sojourner talked about her own struggle recently. In the big picture, not such a terrible set of challenges, but then who ever wants to measure the size of his or her own picture. As it turned out, I had a similar story to tell, and as I reflected—both while talking and then later in the day—I realized that I had to try to return to that moment Tuesday afternoon when I suddenly, instantly was reminded once again that God is in the world—just as it should be.

Tuesday morning I went to my weekly assignment as a volunteer in the visitor center at the Audubon Sanctuary here in Santa Fe. We sit at the very top of Upper Canyon Road, nested on the edge of where the land starts to rise into the mountains, “…at an elevation of 7500 feet…135 acres of intriguing landscapes and wildlife…bounded by thousands of acres of National Forest and [the] Santa Fe River Watershed….” Well, as the saying goes, you just have to have been there. This summer, Tuesday mornings have been especially rewarding—lots of visitors from lots of places—and from every conversation that I’m been privileged to be a part of, lots of happy campers, as another saying goes, even though camping is not permitted in this sanctuary.

I left Audubon early Tuesday afternoon, ready I thought for the rest of that beautiful day, but when I got back to my tiny home here, I realized that I was processing some anger. Likely it was intricately related to the heavy heart I have felt lately. When I started to talk about this Wednesday at noon, I realized that I’m pissed off. Now, who’s at the center of that story, I also realize. That would be no one else but me. So Tuesday afternoon, I just got in my car and headed north on Highway 84. I didn’t have to drive far before I was staring deep into the Rio Grande Valley, pueblo land surrounded by mesas and two mountain ranges, the Jemez and the Sangre de Cristo. The gossamer light that envelops this God-inspired place, well, thank you for sight.

If I hadn’t been so arrested by the beauty of what I saw, if I hadn’t been so thankful for the truth it told me, I would have pulled over and retrieved my camera. As I told a friend last night, though, no picture that I can take with my digital could tell the story. Once again, you just had to be there, and I was. Late yesterday I drove north with my camera, intent on capturing that image. Mindful that cell phones and cameras in the hands of distracted drivers are weapons, I was intent that I would stay focused on my principal task of driving without taking out either myself or someone else. Staying in the right lane, and keeping my speed well below the posted speed limit, I just pointed my camera toward the scenery and clicked-clicked-clicked, through the windshield and out the side windows. I saw it again, but no image that ended up in my camera can capture the feeling.

During the final Wednesday night of our weekly celebrations here in Santa Fe, our spiritual leader asked us to pair up and tell each other something that makes us happy—maybe it was truly happy. My chair neighbor, who is also part of the Wednesday noon group and a member of the drum circle that I participate in on Monday nights, told me two things in her journey that have made her happy. I didn’t even have to think about my part. All I had to do was put myself right back there Tuesday afternoon, heading north on Hwy 84. Though my camera doesn’t capture it, it is imprinted on me—my mind’s eye, my heart. It is amazing.

Suddenly I Am Amazed—Santa Fe, New Mexico (August 26, 2010)
R. Harold Hollis