Wednesday, December 23, 2009 - Ghost Ranch, Abiquiu NM
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Crosshatch v2, Ghost Ranch, Abiquiu NM, December 22, 2009
"Objective painting is not good painting unless it is good in the abstract sense. A hill or tree cannot make a good painting just because it is a hill or tree. It is lines and colors put together so that they may say something." - Georgia O'Keeffe
It snowed quietly here last night and all day today, about 4 inches. That's the most snow I've seen in 3 years, quite beautiful. Tomorrow Kate and I hope to get out for a drive around the Ranch to see how this gorgeous scenery looks under a blanket of snow. Maybe we can get some more interesting pictures.
I was going to leave Christmas day to begin my trek to Henderson NV but I've decided to stay the weekend in light of all the breakdowns I've suffered with this old rig - especially on holiday weekends! Breakdowns are no fun anytime but getting help on a holiday can be a real trial. Take last New Years eve for instance.
Staying the weekend has its own challenges. The current forecast is for temps of 5 below zero tomorrow night and Christmas night. Yikes! Anything below 20 degrees starts getting uncomfortable in this poorly insulated rig. There is serious downdrafts along the single pane windows and the floor is poorly insulated and cold. It's a good thing we like an occasional adventure.
Night camp
Ghost Ranch Campground, Abiquiu NM
- This is a basic, small campground with full hookups.
- Verizon cell phone and Broadband service are not available here.
- Locate Ghost Ranch on my Night Camps map
- Check the weather here
When Hope Dies
When you give up on hope, something even better happens than it not killing you, which is that in some sense it does kill you. You die. And there's a wonderful thing about being dead, which is that they—those in power—cannot really touch you anymore. Not through promises, not through threats, not through violence itself. Once you're dead in this way, you can still sing, you can still dance, you can still make love, you can still fight like hell—you can still live because you are still alive, more alive in fact than ever before. You come to realize that when hope died, the you who died with the hope was not you, but was the you who depended on those who exploit you, the you who believed that those who exploit you will somehow stop on their own, the you who believed in the mythologies propagated by those who exploit you in order to facilitate that exploitation. The socially constructed you died. The civilized you died. The manufactured, fabricated, stamped, molded you died. The victim died.
And who is left when that you dies? You are left. Animal you. Naked you. Vulnerable (and invulnerable) you. Mortal you. Survivor you. The you who thinks not what the culture taught you to think but what you think. The you who feels not what the culture taught you to feel but what you feel. The you who is not who the culture taught you to be but who you are. The you who can say yes, the you who can say no.