Sol's Inner Vault

Global. Cosmic. Eternal. Strolling down the supermarket aisles, filling the cart, my state of mind is a dozen eggs mundane, a loaf of sourdough below awake, even after my two morning coffees. We navigate our lives hour by hour, task by task, priorities announced, and we comply. Hard as we try, planning things as the day goes by, and little time for much reflecting. Whenever I remember resuming the connection to higher realms of thought, well beyond the lower politics of conflict and arbitrary division, the stress of the day seems to vanish along with inner bickering as moods often display. Can one function in this life while channeling the cosmos? Unlikely, probably not. It's puzzling. Mortal beings we are, bound to the trivial details of living, till the end. However, many would challenge that idea, believing the divinely conceived is inseparable from our quaint and worldly experience.

This morning I briefly walked around an ancient cemetery, my thoughts swirling and unsettled. Ending another blessed week with my amazing mom here in Mojave, we've had a grand time together.  Nearby is the Hardyville Cemetery, all that is left of a town that once thrived with steamboats and cargo along the Colorado River, all gone. There was a somber air this early morning, walking in the desert. It seemed so far away from the news, the shouting headlines, all the world's hubris faded into dust.  I've read this tiny, sixteen plot burial acre, with various sized piles of rocks separated by neat rows, has a dubious past. A tragic history of massacre, untold cruelties to the local river tribes living in the valley for nearly a millenium, they were crushed by many settlers, all vanished now. I thought of this past election, all the vitriol, hating, sore divisions. The silence of the small cemetary seemed to mock the shrill urgency of recent days - how it's all the same to t...