Through the Prism

After passing through the prism, each refraction contains some pure essence of the light, but only an incomplete part. We will always experience some aspect of reality, of the Truth, but only from our perspectives as they are colored by who and where we are. Others will know a different color and none will see the whole, complete light. These are my musings from my particular refraction.


At the Foot of the Rockies

Yesterday was my first time through Greensburg since their tornado. The news since has been about their rebuilding. They are--and they have some wonderful looking new buildings--but much of the town still isn't there. It was a wow moment, seeing so much nothing where there used to be a community.

In this part of the world, it seems every town has a Love's gas station and convenience store, so that's where we stop for our breaks. As we pulled into our third one, my niece from her car seat in back asked, "Why are we stopping at this store again?"

I hadn't realized how much of this route follows the Arkansas River, from before Dodge City to La Junta. Much of the time we were in the river valley (such as it is) enjoying the view of the bluffs (such as they are) and we crossed it multiple times (on tiny little bridges).

The 60 miles from a little out of La Junta to Walsenburg is pure high prairie emptiness. A straight shot of nothing. No little communities along the way, no farm houses in the distance, minimal fences, a few power lines, and a bit of cattle ranching evidence, some scrubby trees and cacti, and that's about it. Really neat in a desolate kind of way.

I don't think I can emphasize enough how much I fucking love the no humidity here. Even the stops along the road with the full sun and summer heat weren't unpleasant. After pulling into town, my brother and I stretched our legs by walking and jogging around town a little. Very light movement, not a real workout, but in KC I would have been drenched in sweat by that bit of activity. Here I didn't even need a shower. The bugs seem virtually non-existent and people can leave their doors and windows open without fear. Last night I sat on the patio enjoying the wind as I checked email. I'd planned to read but was too tired, so I laid my head back and fell asleep in the chair. I might have stayed there all night if someone hadn't come along and said hi. The air is perfect.

I always know when I'm really, really worn out because I wake up knowing I dreamed. Still can't remember the dreams, but for once I know they exist and I'm left with the impression they were intense.

Yesterday we made it to the mountains; today we head up into them.


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