On

It was time to be moving on. And about time, too. Yesterday I took my last final exam (and it sucked, too, thank you very much). This morning, I sat in my chair, in front of the computer, where I had spent so many hours these last few months typing out “spew” for my classes (I hope none of my instructors read this blog), my feet getting that aching cold that occurs when I’ve sat for too long, thinking about the same thing. It was time to move on.

"Elizabeth, let us take a turn about the room. It's refreshing, is it not, after sitting for so long in one attitude."
"It is a sort of a small kind of accomplishment I suppose."
(Pride and Prejudice)



I needed to get my blood moving. I needed some fresh air and fresh perspective. Minding the snow on the ground, I bundled into my fleece, capilene, down parka, ski gloves, wool hat, Gore-tex boots. You’d think I was going on an arctic expedition. I grabbed my camera (always a good excuse to get out of doors) and headed for my favorite “clear my head” spot, a rock formation near the Elena Gallegos trail that I call “Cathedral Rocks.” It’s the perfect distance from the parking lot to be a nice walk: not too close, not too far, but far enough that reaching it seems a minor accomplishment, and it’s a worthy goal to reach. This is the same formation that I headed to when my friend and mentor died suddenly from a ruptured aneurysm. Of course, my worries today were less devastating than that. Today I was just out to get some exercise, and not think about the pressures of work, or my looming thesis, or rather, lack of thesis, or any major life decisions.



Within five minutes of leaving the car, my fingers were numb, the wind whistled into my neckline. I should have brought a scarf. I zipped “Fluffy” my down parka, up to the highest possible, and picked up my pace. My hands were clumsy with cold as I pulled off the lens cap, shot a few photos and moved on. The cloudy skies cleared and the sun began to beat down on me. Fifteen minutes later I realized I was sweating.



I looked around and remembered how beautiful a place New Mexico is.



Mr. Gibbs: "The only thing I can hold on to, Mrs. Grodin, the only thing I know to be true, is my love for you!"
Mrs. Grodin: "New Mexico is a very powerful place. Often, when people first get here, it's a little overwhelming."
(Off the Map)