Everything it throws at me. Everything it teaches me. Everything holy I see, find, hold in my hand. Everything I return to the earth, grateful for the lesson learned.
(I've kind of checked out lately, as I wade through the soul-sucking process of sorting my mom's belongings. Learning things I never knew about her. Sometimes feeling I am violating such a private and intimate space. Giving up and then returning to the boxes and mountain of memories. And in the midst of it all, I spot a small, purple heart-shaped rock that falls from a box of her things.)
But on this late fall day, when the sun starts to set and the shadows lengthen along my mesa, I know why I continue to return to this place. It gives me hope. It makes me believe. It grounds me.
I am hopelessly in love with this crazy, wild land.