The Road Back from Truth or Consequences

hello, stranger -

well, it's the first full moon of the year, and the first time in a long time since i felt like putting pen to paper again.  not that i haven't given it a shot a few times – but it just always seemed to sputter short after a while, and i just couldn't seem to find the focus or the wherewithal to pick it back up again once I put the pen down to rest.

i've been sick - and by that i mean that this cold i’ve had since new years is just the tail end of it.  first it was in the head, then in the heart, and then finally in the body.  anytime someone has to watch a loved one pass on it’s bound to fuck with their mind to one degree or another.  and a situation like that one is a lot like being in someone else's plane crash – you're helpless, just along for the ride, all the way from the first descent to the horrible final moments, knowing the whole way only one of you is going to walk away from it in the end.  pure nightmare fuel.

empty highway in Texas

then - coupled with that - comes the deeper sorrow of it all.  the sense of unreality you can't quite come to believe that this is how it went, followed by the slap to the system as a reminder that not only is this how it indeed went, but this is the only way it ever will go.  it's enough to take the breath away, in short random intervals too – like missing a step on a staircase, even as you're just standing there in the shower, or in line at the grocery store or something – as the world goes on in glaring normalcy around you.

and so it does – and a couple weeks went by like that, with a steady stream of beer cans and wine bottles and pizza boxes flowing out of the recycling bin, as i just sort of struggled to get through the days in a sort of hermit mode at home.  and soon it was almost Christmas, and i'd made a promise to the other side of the family that i'd come out for a visit to Texas, and i didn't want to stay where i was anyways and thought a road trip would do me some good.  so i found myself packing up the night of the winter solstice, after having a little bonfire with the neighbors.  it was just the three of us, but that's all i'd been up for anyways, and it was nice to sit in the yard and look up at those stars in the black sky, while being warmed by the little crackle of the fire pit.

when i took off the next day i realized it had been a year since i started writing you.  can you believe that?  my God, how much can change in a year – and how much can stay the same too.  i guess that’s just how time works though, but it’s hard to wrap the mind around that beast sometimes…

in any case, i decided to give myself a little gift and try to treat myself right for a bit, so i looked up some hot springs in New Mexico that would be relatively on the way.  there's a town called Truth or Consequences that has a bunch, so i booked a couple nights at what i looked like a nice, clean and friendly motel, and set off to explore.  soaking my bones in the mineral springs alongside the banks of the Rio Grande sounded just my speed, and i was pretty eager to change my headspace from the place it had been for the past couple of weeks.

A church next to the motel in New Mexico

so on the Sunday before Christmas i threw my bags in the truck along with a few gifts for the family, and headed out east across the desert into New Mexico, and towards a small town off the highway that i stopped for gas at half a dozen times but never explored.  i hadn't even known they had hot springs there.  but now that i did i found myself somehow pinning all the hope i could muster on their magical waters somehow soaking away whatever had been polluting me since what seemed like a lifetime now.

****

those were tall expectations, for sure, and obviously unrealistic.  but i had to start somewhere, and so as i started the drive i was anticipating that familiar surge of joy to rise up from the sheer act of hitting the road.  but it didn't.  i drove through traffic out of town, east along the highway, boxed in by volume of traffic that surprised me for being that far from anywhere, stuck behind assholes who wouldn't get out of the passing lane, stuck next to other cars when all i really wanted was to be separate of them and free.  i noticed how aggravated it was making me but i couldn’t it, and it wasn't until the far eastern part of the state, almost to New Mexico border, that the lanes thinned out enough that i finally started to feel like i could relax.  eventually my nerves mellowed, but all-in-all it turned out to be an uneventful, utilitarian and relatively joyless ride.

Abandoned building in Lordsburg, NM

i stopped in Lordsburg for gas and one of the most irritating pitstops i've ever had.  everything was way too busy, and way too slow.  i should've kept going to the next gas station but i wasn't thinking straight.  i hadn't been thinking straight for a few weeks, in fact.  the only upside was that a pitstop in a town like that can be a good reminder of how life used to be in places like that, and how it can have evaporated in such a relatively short amount of time. there's not much need for a ghost town directory out in some parts of the West.  just look around and if you found a place that's not in danger of becoming one, then you're on to something special. the rest seem like it's just a matter of time.

i’d hoped to stop in Hatch, the chili capital of the world, and get some late lunch, but by the time i was passing through it was getting closer to dinner and i wanted to get to T or C and find a place for dinner there.  but i forgot it was a Sunday, and when i arrived the place looked as quiet as you can imagine.  the kind woman at the motel pointed me in the direction of a bowling alley bar though, and after i unloaded my bags i set out to find it.

i did eventually, and had a pretty good, pleasant meal with a local beer.  it seemed like a fun spot, the kind of place i guess i'd probably be a regular at with my friends if i lived there, like the guys standing around playing pool.  but as it were i just ate my sandwich and stared up at the TV at the football game on the TV.  the guy who’s famous for doing the political maps and percentages on the news was doing an analysis of the probabilities for the football game.  Jesus Christ – i thought - that blurry line between entertainment and politics isn't even a line anymore.

i bought a twelve pack of tall boys at the gas station after and went back to the motel room.  i tried to write.  nothing much good came of it.  i turned on the TV and switched the channel though the news to Diehard, a Christmas classic.  then i drank a few of the beers, and wrote short notes in my journal, mainly about how disappointing people are.  then i went to bed.

****

i'd been having what i'd come to refer to as the shivers for a few weeks at that point, and that night was no exception.  it was a slightly perceptible but nonstop twitching – usually in the eyelid but sometimes in other random places too, as if some low grade electrical current was coursing through a part of the body.  and when i woke the next morning i was having a particularly bad case of them, so i was hoping that some time in the hot springs might cure me of that.

i had a reservation for a private soak at ten, and as i made my way down to the spa i found myself regretting my choice of motel.  it was nice enough and i appreciated the vibe, but there were plenty of others within walking distance of the hot springs, many of which looked decent and all of which had vacancies.  i’d tried to do a little research before booking the reservations, but my mind had not been screwed on straight, and i’d found it especially difficult to try to do anything online.  i could barely remember where i put my keys or my wallet most days, let alone navigate and plan a trip, so i decided it’d been a small miracle i'd made it at all and left it at that.

Morning Spa, T or C

it was a nice, clean and quiet establishment, right on the banks of the Rio Grande, and when i was led to my private tub the open wall of the deck overlooked the flowing banks of the river. i stepped into the mineral bath and stared out across the river and into space for a long time.  i knew right away that this was a good move, but it was going to take a while.

*****

after my hour was up i toweled off and changed and went up the street for what I hope to be a late breakfast.  it was a local joint the motel lady had recommended, and was plenty busy.  i missed the cut off for breakfast though, so i had to order Mexican dish i really wasn't in the mood for.  still though, the food was good and i liked eating in a local greasy spoon.  looking around it was easy to tell the locals from those of us visiting for the hot springs, and i was no exception.

A quiet day downtown, T or C

afterwards i walked around the town a bit taking in a few of the shops and popping into the local brewery for a pint.  it was a Monday and so not too much was open, but there were a few little consignment shops and junky art stores that were fun to poke through and kill a little time. it was a quiet little town, just trying to make it, one step at a time, it seemed to me.  probably without the hot springs the place would end up being just another gas stop town off the highway, sliding into the oblivion of broken down yesterdays.  but that wasn’t the case here, and there was a humble little spirit to the place that i was glad to see.

i went back to the motel to read and sit in the sun a bit before my next soak.  i'd been getting deeper into my philosophy books, and was truly grateful i'd been turned on to it.  the only caveat was that the more i got into it the more i realized that there was a whole subculture that was too - and was using it to market some relatively fucked-up sounding shit.  broicism. the red pill society.  none of these things had ever been on my radar screen before, but once youtube started figuring out my algorithm all of a sudden my feed was filled with muscle-jacked and perfectly bearded AI greek gods doling out ten minute diatribes on how to be a man.

shit - i remember thinking as i realized the scope of it all - well, now that’s ruined.  everything’s a scam, everyone is just trying to get into your pockets.  it was depressing experience, to finally find some real guiding points of light in this ever-maddening world, only to realize they’ve already been co-opted to sell boner pills and some kind of fucked up misogynistic alpha-man lifestyle.  but these are the times we're in, and i wasn’t about to let some noise from the internet put a stain on some classic words of wisdom, so when the time for my next soak came i increased the time to two hours and brought my book and pen and paper with me and settled in for an honest inventory.

i can't say that there was any kind of breakthrough, per se – more like a break up, like an ice flow cracking and starting to splinter apart as it hits warmer temperatures.  that's what it felt like, the unrelenting calm of it.  there were thoughts of sadness and sorrow, of course – but as i sat with them, staring out across the river, where afternoon sunshine was now adding a golden hue to everything, it felt like things were starting to get unstuck a bit, and as my mind drifted through those thoughts they felt like they were getting turned over and over, tumbling and losing some of their sharper edges as they did.

the weight of time was particularly present.  i guess it always is, particularly for those of us who have felt so unmoored in our lives, like they've just been pushed along by the current, unable to navigate any meaningful direction, and any attempts to reach out for something solid to grab on to being thwarted time and again by forces seemingly outside of our control.  for my part, i felt like i'd spent the greater part of my life so far struggling under this condition, and trying desperately to swim back upstream, to people and places and things and times that had already passed by.  that was the undercurrent, down below the rocky waters along the surface.

and how far down that river to have had gone so far, being spit out of one set of rapids only to go crashing into the rocks of another.  never a moment of peace – not really anyways, not deep inside where it counts.  just the ever present anxiety of being pushed along by the current to fates unknown, and into territories yet explored, and with barely a proper sense of the world or even the self to use as a rudder.

but as i sat there and soaked and looked on across that river, a new view of that shapeless body began to drift into mind.  they say you can never step into the same river twice, and that is indeed a fact.  and if time is a river, maybe i wasn't being carried along by it at all.  maybe i was just tumbling around in the same damned spot, trying to get some solid footing while it kept pushing past me, bringing with it what it may, and taking it away as it went.

Rio Grande in the afternoon

this was a new way of looking at it for me, and would go well into helping explain to myself, at least, about lost loves and opportunities, and my long and tragic history of shitty business partners and failed creative endeavors, where time and again i’d teamed up with the wrong someone to take on a project that left me holding the bag.  shit, it's half the reason i ended up out here in the west in the first place, and here i was still learning the same damned lesson, getting tumbled around in the same set of rocks, and trying to grab yet again whatever next piece of driftwood happened by, mistaking it for something solid to get a hold of, always reaching out but never far enough below the surface.

this was an undeniable pattern, and now that I could see it clearer i could also see that it had to be broken.  there was obviously an instinct, hardwired into the programming somewhere, to latch onto something, anything more solid, the way a seedling planted in sandy soil must reach out to firmer ground.   these are the kind of roots that sprout early in life, run deepest and can be most easily overlooked, but have the greatest impact too.  a household can be filled with loving and happy moments, and neglected ones and unbearable drama at the same, and i think a lot of those of us from the latch key generation had to develop our own way of navigating it.   it’s entirely possible to be loved and forgotten at the same time, and whatever footing one needs to face those currents had never come easily for me, nor was there ever much reason it should have..

that wasn’t exactly a huge discovery for me - sitting there, watching the river go by and melting into the mineral water.  but i was becoming more okay with it than i ever had been, with a growing acceptance of all the things in the past that had already swept by and now were now gone, down the river, along with whatever tears or smiles they’d brought along with them.  i was still here, and still plenty alive.  and it was becoming clearer and clearer that if i wanted to stop struggling against the current like i’d been, then i'd have to find firmer soil to plant myself into, and cut loose of the instinct to reach out for anything passing by and being disappointed when i got the same results.  it was always the disappointment that hit the heaviest - being in the ring alone is one thing, but looking to your corner for help only to find it empty is the real crusher.

so expect nothing, and accept people for who they truly are, not who you hope they turn out to be - that was the chorus that was singing in my ears as i sat there.  it was a surprising tune to hear, but that’s what it was all the same.  there was a lot of life sweeping by, as i sat there staring out over the banks of the river.  and as it did i could feel so much of the sadness and frustration that came and went with it, and the grinding moments of despair and fury that it’d built up and bled out over the years.  in times past it might have made me want to reach out and slap someone across the face for it, but now as i sat there it was becoming clearer that it was really me who was in need of the slap.

****

the next day was Christmas Eve, and i didn't mind having a drive ahead of me.  it was about ten hours through one of the most featureless and unremarkable stretches of landscape on earth, but i felt like putting on some music or an audiobook and letting my mind drift.  i liked the little town, but didn’t mind putting it in the rearview for now.  i'd had a lot to think about, and in my mind i was still ruminating about it all, still tumbling the thoughts around over and over, smoothing out the edges.  the land was plain and flat and bare, and the drive went by relatively quietly.  at one point a herd of bighorn sheep were huddled dangerously close to the side of the highway, and i had to switch lanes.  besides that though there was nothing noteworthy in particular.  that's West Texas for you.

the sun had sunk behind me and dusk had settled when i finally got close to my destination. i was listening to holiday songs by the Pogues and thinking of times gone by, times from back East, from back home, with a roaring fire in the wood stove on a snowy night, and how many lonesome, empty holidays have been between than and now as i drove through the dying light of a gray landscape, way out here in a land that seemed like a world away.  they were bittersweet memories, for sure, but there was a warm house waiting for me just ahead, with family and spirit in it, and even though it wasn't a real substitute for home, i was grateful.

The Road back

ahead lay a quiet Christmas with a loving family, and good food and plenty of laughter.  it would feel nice to be welcomed and included somewhere, and escape the lonely monotony of an otherwise empty holiday.  we would give gifts and eat well and lounge about watching tv.  and whether by luck or design, the conversation would never touch on politics, which i’d be glad for considering the fuse that had been lit just a few weeks before.  whatever disasters were hurling towards us in history were already on their way, regardless of what anyone’s opinion, so might as well not let it ruin the happiness of a nice moment.  so we’d watch movies and football on tv, despite no one much caring for either team, but getting glued to the screen for Beyonce’s halftime show, which would be an epic blend of white Cadillacs, white cowboy hats and outfits, and fireworks blended together in a display to rival any super bowl performance - evidently a new Christmas tradition, according to the announcers.  holiday magic in modern america.

it would be a short couple of days, but nice ones and warmed with family cheer.  and when the time would come i wouldn’t be unhappy to go home -  there was much to do ahead, and since that state of frozen stuckness had begin to shift a bit i’d be eager to get to it.  the clouds in my world had begun to drift apart finally, and even though the skies might not be exactly clear yet there was at least a glimpse of a north star shin gin through.  there’d be another long drive ahead of me, of course, and then there’d be a friend flying in from back east for new year’s, and this brutal cold i’d catch after too many late nights staying up with him and drinking til all hours.  and there would still be painful reminders and a sullen heaviness awaiting me too, and a world of uncertainty to face.  but as i’d make that drive through that empty patch of nothingness back to my little spot in the desert, through the dusty wind and tumbleweeds and watching the sun sink behind the silhouettes of the mountains ahead, i’d feel happy for the first time in a long time that -  for now anyways - that north star lies in the West.