RVSue and her canine crew are camped at Midland LTVA, Blythe, California.
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One of the best times to walk the desert is early in the morning.
Right about the time Reg and Rog finish their breakfast, the sun’s rays clear the hills east of our camp.
The morning chill is still in the air, and, if conditions are right, the world around us blushes with a pink glow.
“How gorgeous is this morning, eh, guys?”
By the time we return to the Best Little Trailer, the sun’s warmth, added to the heat of our exercise, sets us up for another good day.
My favorite time to walk with the crew, however, is around sunset.
Reggie and Roger anticipate the sunset walks. They pressure me to get going, long before it’s time to start.
Usually around 4 p.m. they begin The Stare.
Reggie lies on his belly, resting his chin between his front paws while emitting intense, yet silent, laser-beam pleas from his eyes. Roger, my vocal boy, whines while pacing, when he’s not staring, that is.
Repeatedly I remind them . . .
“No, we have to wait. It’s too hot now.”
We set out about ten minutes before sunset. Already the heat of the day is dissipating. The coolness is delightful after an afternoon with temperatures rising to the mid to high 80s.
Stops are made to check messages.
An RVer is parked on a fork of the same “road” we use to cross the desert and he has five dogs. Twice daily there’s a lively exchange of messages between them and the crew, via the bushes along our way.
If I may go off on a tangent . . . .
I’m not a very disciplined person. I don’t like life regulated. Maybe that’s why I enjoy the whimsy of my lifestyle, moving whenever I feel like it, going hither and yon without a set plan, letting daily life unfold, just rolling along.
Add to that the freedom that retirement allows, sleeping, waking, eating, doing everything when it suits me. I’m loving my life, being consistently inconsistent.
Along that vein . . .
When it comes to prayer, I’m not very disciplined. I wasn’t brought up that way.
For instance, it wasn’t my family’s habit to say grace at meals. For a period of time in adulthood, I tried my best to thank God before every meal. After a stint of this, I realized my heart just wasn’t in it. I was performing a ritual without sincere feeling. Any gratitude expressed was cerebral, rather than heartfelt.
I admit, my mind (and stomach) was on the food!
Conversations with God are most natural and heartfelt during the after-sunrise and before-sunset walks with the crew. After all, He helps me by giving inspiration in pink, yellow, and gold.
And if I’m being obtuse — hey, it happens! — He gently taps me on the shoulder with a gazillion-bagillion watts of solar rays and splashes of color across the sky!
“Hey, let’s talk!”
What’s neat is out here in the desert I can talk out loud and there’s no one but Him to hear me! Well, there’s the crew but they ignore most of what I say anyway. (See above paragraph on waiting for walk time.)
When God and I share a really good chat, I find the crew and I have walked all the way to the main road and it’s like I didn’t use one bit of my own power to get there.
NOTE: One of the “rules” of this blog is no politics and no religion.
With this post I broke out of that restriction. (After all, it’s my blog and I can do that.) This is a personal journal of my life and to keep it honest and to make it complete, I felt the urge to include my spiritual side. Don’t worry. I won’t make a habit of it. Like I described in this post, I’m consistent in my inconsistency.
If you feel moved to comment on what I wrote and/or to share your spiritual side, please keep it light. Thank you.
As always, I hope for a variety of topics, questions, and updates in comments. Do you have plans for Christmas and Hannukah? — Sue
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