I’m in a place of not-knowing. I have a full day ahead of me so it’s not that. I have a schedule but I feel open to what might reveal as I stand on the edge of a fold that opens on both sides. Perhaps balance is my intention for the day, balancing openness to what comes.
Though I’d never heard of Marfa, Texas, last night I read about it in H.C. Palmer’s book review of John Balaban’s book, Empires. Palmer writes:
“In his penultimate poem, “Looking for the Lights,” spots of light seem to float in the air and vanish, and a man stops his pickup, shuts off the ignition, then listens to the truck’s ticking engine as a Border Patrol agent stops behind his vehicle; blue and white strobe-lights flash him nearly blind. The man is saved from arrest by convincing the officer he’s American. The officer says, “He had never seen the lights himself but knew people who had.”
“Balaban suggests that those mysterious Marfa Lights in West Texas, sighted for centuries by natives and Spanish explorers (invaders) but without a documented source, are a metaphor for what lasts – “the lights the local Indians took for star people visiting earth.””
Checking out Marfa, I learn that this little town sits at an elevation of 4,685 feet, and located in high desert is now a destination for art and music.
There’s a Marfa Mystery Light viewing area, and though there are only 2000 residents, it’s now the hipster place to visit. I’m not a hipster but I’m feeling intrigued though it’s not an easy trek.
Maybe for me right now it’s simply to find the mystery in each step, the balance unfolding the light.