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Photos from Ah, Wilderness!

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Ah, Wilderness!, photos

Updates to my Chaco website: Una Vida, Hungo Pavi, and Chetro Ketl

Many years ago, I created a website to document my experiences in Chaco Canyon in the northwest corner of New Mexico in the southwestern United States. Chaco is a gorgeous and remote canyon that contains extensive ruins dating from 900 to 1100 BC (very roughly). The original structures were built by the people variously known as the Anasazi (per the Navajo and others), Ancestral Puebloans (by modern Puebloans), or Hisatsinom (per the Hopi). I’m now in the process of updating my site. At this time, you’ll find the following pages:

Content update consists primarily of photos taken over the past 10 years, though more text will follow, eventually.

Let me know what you think. peace, mjh

Updates to my Chaco website: Una Vida, Hungo Pavi, and Chetro Ketl is a post from Ah, Wilderness! . Let me know what you think. peace, mjh

photos

Photos from Ah, Wilderness!

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The Atheist's Pulpit

Rain! Real Rain!

When it rains in the desert, you tell people. Some are happy for you; some are jealous that it didn’t rain where they were (which might be one block over). We got drenched and muddy playing volleyball in Los Lunas today. It rained two or more times, for 10 or 15 minutes. Wonderful. Heavenly. Joyous. Everyone wore big smiles and talked about what a great day it was. I’m not sure anyone outside of the desert can really appreciate that rare joy.

Meanwhile, in Albuquerque, there was water in the gutters at the southern end of town but not a drop a few miles north at our house.

The Atheist's Pulpit

I listen to the wind / to the wind in my soul – Cat Stevens

The wind howled for hours last night. It tossed me in my bed as surely as if I were in a hammock strung between high trees, death a long fall away. I cursed the wind. I called it vicious, raging, cruel, and a bully. But, on waking, I realize the wind proves my complete insignificance and powerlessness. Wind isn’t cruel; it is utterly indifferent and beyond grasping.

And so, again, I push together the stones of my sanity, until the wind blows, as it will, long after I’m dead.

Unhinged (a seasonal poem)
Wind Makes Crazy (a timely poem)

"It does not require a majority to prevail, but rather an irate, tireless minority keen to set brush fires in people's minds." — Sam Adams