I've been thinking a lot about the role of stories in my life. The stories I hear. The stories I tell. Which stories get shared. Which stories get spared.
I could tell you four dozen stories about what I've been doing (and not doing) in the six weeks since my last post, but I've never been very good at catching up on backlogs. Sometimes it's best to let such things burn. Start anew. All that really matters right now is right now.
In this particular right now, I am looking into an open suitcase, trying to remember what I really need in the Land of Enchantment. It's always less than I think. My needs are few and simple there. So I keep paring down my pile.
The high desert suits me, serves me. I always come back from Taos a better, brighter, and clearer me. Always. And for that and all of its implications, I am so deeply grateful.
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