It’s cold in Santa Fe. I was thinking of hiking today, but now I’m not so sure (it’s cold). If I don’t hike, I’ll probably walk around and check out art studios and galleries but… it’s cold. I wouldn’t mind sitting around and taking in the colors (and sun if it comes out).
Yesterday it was cold, but not so bad in the sun. I went to a bookstore, bought a few books of poetry written by local poets and sat in the square on a bench facing the sun where I read and wrote drafts of a few poems. I got a call from my hotel telling me that they didn’t have hot water and it may not be restored until Tuesday. I could cancel without a cancellation fee or I could schedule times to shower at their sister property. I canceled. The new place has hot water, is a little closer to town, and was a little cheaper.
The drive to Santa Fe started out great. I got to see a lot of the scenery I felt I was missing in the fog the previous day. I also saw a black bull wandering by the side of the road (outside of the ranch fencing). My first instinct was to double back the way one might for a stray dog – but it’s a bull and not a dog. I deliberately chose a slightly longer route that would take me through some mountains. What I hadn’t anticipated was that I would hit more fog and mist and eventually some sleet. I drove for a long period of time without seeing another car on the road. That is until I got to the curvy part that went up the mountain. That’s where the fog, and sleet, and switchback turns were and also when a dodge charger caught up to me – making me feel like I was in his way and driving too slowly. I pulled over the first chance I could and he/she sped by.
During these recent drives (through Texas and New Mexico) I began telling myself that this would be the solitary “spiritual” part of the trip. I’d cut down on hanging out at bars, spend more time in nature, spend more time writing and reflecting. I’d be seeing landscapes that many people consider magical. I’d be in parts of the country that have deep traditions and ties to the land. After sitting on a park bench doing some of those things (writing and reflecting) but also re-booking my hotel, I gave up this notion of solitary spirituality and went to a bar.
While it seems obvious, only recently has it occurred to me that places need to be seen during the day and at night – and that aside from restaurants and bars and a little bit of urban exploring, everything else (museums, shops, coffee shops, hikes, outdoorsy activities) has to be done during the day. This, effectively, cuts my time in any one place in half. And despite my efforts to fight off having a deficit mindset, my time in some of these places is decidedly finite. This is when it becomes difficult to decide what to do or how to spend my time. This is also when I wish I had given myself more time to do more things.
At the bar (the first bar – I also went to a second bar based on a recommendation) I met a very warm and lovely couple who moved to Santa Fe last year. I don’t think they told me how they met, but he was from California and she had been living in North Dakota. We talked about a lot of different things (social issues, politics, art, spirituality). We had hearty handshakes and hugs when they left. They gave me their contact information and asked that I stay in touch – they said maybe I’ll find my way back or maybe they’ll be out on the west coast.
From what I’ve seen of Santa Fe, I like it. I can understand why people retire here or move here or drop out and become artists here. It has that type of energy. As with so many of the places I’ve visited, I can’t tell if I’m genuinely enchanted or if it’s the novelty of it (architecture, shops, landscape). The visual stimulation is all so new to me. I’m guessing, based on the number of art galleries and the size of the local poets section in the bookstore, there are a lot of artists out this way – which is inspiring. Already, I’ve felt the urge to redouble my efforts as a writer, and maybe (maybe) try my hand at painting again. This is also why I’m not sure I feel like hiking today. It’s that old battle between stimulation and reflection, and I’m feeling the urge to reflect and write more than I’m feeling the urge to breath in the landscape.
I’ve been thinking about art a lot on this trip. I’ve visited art museums in Richmond, St. Louis, Kansas City, Tulsa, Austin, and Birmingham. I’ve sought out street art whenever I could find it. As I worked on a poem or two yesterday, I thought about the difference between visual representation and what can be described with words. I couldn’t possibly fit all of the shapes, shades, and shadows into a description of sunlight hitting the adobe buildings – but a painting accomplishes all of those things. I also recognized that quite a few of the women with whom I’ve had serious relationships had talents in the visual arts. Maybe this is another instance of seeking out in others what I admire and what I might feel is lacking within.
Maybe this is the spiritual part of the trip after all.