Journey to the Center

Labyrinth: Medieval, Chartres replica, New Life Presbyterian Church, Albuuqerque NM

Drawing representative of the labyrinth, Chartres Cathedral, France,
constructed in the second decade of the 13th Century 

May we all be one

The Rio Grande quietly makes its way through Albuquerque, New Mexico, January 2014

“Free at last, free at last
I thank God I'm free at last
Free at last, free at last
I thank God I'm free at last…”

from " American Negro Songs " collected by John Wesley Work, III (1930)

I want to love

“And the angel said, Have no fear; for truly, I give you good news of great joy which will be for all the people.” (Luke 2:10) But that’s another story—a story full of meaning for millions and millions of people, especially at this time of the year.

Here’s a winged St. Francis of Assisi that leaps joyfully on the plaza approach to St. Francis Basilica in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Even though I’ve walked the labyrinth that unfolds only a few feet away from this sculpture, and I’ve photographed the piece more times than I can count, I do not remember ever having searched for information on the sculptor. I have just found on the Internet that the piece is titled St. Francis Dancing on Water and is the work of Monika Kaden, a New Mexico artist. This artist chooses for one of the inscriptions on this work: “I AM NOT ASKING TO BE LOVED I WANT TO LOVE”. These words wash over me and intrigue me.

For some reason I keep coming back to this St. Francis. I am drawn to the labyrinth nearby, and I am compelled to stand close to this sculpture. Lately, it is to practice walking meditation. I could relate to you my understanding of this practice, but I won’t. It doesn’t really matter. Come back to the breath, come back. Breathing in, I have arrived. Breathing out, I am home. Thich Nhat Hanh tells the story of teaching young French children in walking meditation to say simply, yes, yes, breathing in, thank you, thank you, breathing out. Oui, oui, merci, merci. I think that says it best.

New Mexico Treasure

Northern New Mexico is home to an amazing wealth of treasure. An image of The Guadalupe from a Cordova woodcarver shares space on a handmade Empire-style writing table with an Art Deco mirror and a signed and dated carved folk art lamp from Taos. For some extra history and beauty, a few pieces of vintage Acoma pottery. That's what I'm talking about.

Lavendar Trumpet Vine

My Aunt Edna called this vine Bluebells because that’s what her mother, Emily Rustenbach, called it. Mrs. Rustenbach had it in her yard in what was then a very rural area whose post office was Cypress, Texas. The Rustenbachs lived on Huffmeister Road, named for one of the early German families that settled the area. Now all of that once country part of Harris County is as complicated as the rest of the sprawling city of Houston, minus only skyscrapers.

I recently found out that he vine is officially called Clytostoma callistegioides (Lavender Trumpet Vine). It is an evergreen vine that grows moderately fast to 15 to 20 feet tall by as wide, climbing up on or clambering over anything that will support it with a dense foliage cover.

According to Texas gardening experts, “Lavendar Trumpet Vine is native to Argentina and southern Brazil. The name for the genus is from the Greek words 'Klytos' meaning "beautiful" and 'stoma' meaning "mouth" in reference to the beautiful open moth shaped flowers. The specific epithet is in reference to this vines similarity to Calystegia, a fast growing vine in the Morning Glory Family, Convolvulaceae. Other common names for this beautiful vine are Chamisso, Painted Trumpet and Argentine Trumpet Vine. The Plant List, the collaboration between The Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew and Missouri Botanic Gardens lists the current name of this plant as Bignonia callistegioides but we continue to list it as Clytostoma callistegioides until such time that this name gets broader usage.”

Apparently this vine has been documented in California (Santa Barbara) a early as 1895. Some important plant men who have written about it include Harry Butterfield and Dr. Francesco Franceschi and his partner, Peter Riedel.

“A great plant for covering a chain link fence,” the official description declares. I don’t recall the Rustenbachs having a chain link fence, but they certainly had a hog wire fence surrounding their swept garden yard. It’s a long way from Santa Barbara, California to Cypress, Texas, let alone Argentina and Brazil. As it turns out, the origin of this vine is way more exotic than my Aunt Edna imagined. I speculate that Mrs. Rustenbach received the plant as a “pass along” from a friend or neighbor’s garden, and she in turn passed it along to her daughter, probably sometime in the 1950s.

I never got a photograph of Aunt Edna standing near the arbor where the Lavendar Trumpet Vine grows in my Texas garden. This photograph of my mother, Tena Hollis, dates from April of 2006. At this point she was frail with a very tired heart, although you wouldn’t necessarily recognize that from this photograph. On this day, she and my oldest sister, Joan, were headed for a stay in Mother’s house west of Houston. She didn’t feel well, but she agreed to pose for this picture against the backdrop of this lovely vine. In spite of Texas droughts and occasional very hard freezes during some winters, the vine has prospered for 10-plus years in Leon County, Texas—sometimes coming back from the roots. I live away in New Mexico. Life goes on in Leon County. I was delighted by this close-up reminder that I made with my cell phone in April of 2013.

R. Harold Hollis—Albuquerque, NM (May 9, 2013)

“Stand before the people you fear and speak your mind -- even if your voice shakes.”

Maggie Kuhn (born August 3, 1905 in Buffalo, NY, died April 22, 1995, Philadelpha, PA). An American activist known for founding the Gray Panthers movement.