Call this Christmas Eve tradition what you will, the purpose of the path-lined faralitos/luminarias is to light the way for the Holy Family. The faralitos that lined our driveway, lit the way for guests to come inside from the 21 degree chill outside.
Rachel took a swig from the bottled water we each carried, wiped her lips, took a deep breath as she stared into the ancient kiva, and confessed, “I’m having a hard time finding faith that I can believe in.”
Like the mullein, I was seeded in difficult soils (womb). I was a post war lover’s Whoops! In other words, my parents married incognito in Yuma, Az, conveniently three months after my conception. Until I found my parents marriage license on the internet, in my adulthood, I thought I was a preemie. At least that’s what all the grown-ups told me, ignoring the fact that I weighed 8.5 pounds at birth, with a full head of dark brown hair. I was one heck of a preemie!
August morning light, like the ancient bird of myth, resurrects from the black ashes of night, Immortal wings spread steadfast, illuminating, exposing, […]
Besides mullein’s unique look, soft leaves and medicinal value, in truth, what really attracts me to mullein is its history and hints of its ability to ward off evil. Blame it on my Catholic upbringing. If holy water could defer the wicked from my soul, why not a plant?
Today I cried. I don’t cry easily. Like a 50 foot storm driven wave, sadness swept over me. Indifference, greed, phony piety, […]
On a Good Friday I drove to Albuquerque. Thousands of the faithful walked north along Interstate 25. They sought the healing miracles of the sacred sands within the Santuario de Chimayo in the village of Chimayo, nestled in a valley, lined in cottonwoods and pastures within the Sangre de Cristo Mountains 24 miles (38.4 km) north of Santa Fe. From Albuquerque, the distance nears 80 miles, but the distance is unimportant to those who make this annual trek.
Author’s Note: I changed his name to Philiberto for this story from a work in progress with the working title, “New Mexico […]
Ray was fun and easy to know. Regardless, his gayness in rural New Mexico wasn’t always well received. Ray was young and out. If you didn’t like his sexual proclivity, that was your problem. Not his. “I’m like a dragon,” he said. “Full of fire and not ashamed.”
The behavior of some humans definitely rankled my patience. I wish it would’ve rained more. The garden was less than mediocre. And every holiday and celebration lacked the sparkle of champagne.