This Speck in the Universe
Often, I catch myself staring across this vast emptiness of West Texas, as if it is some sort of sandy mirror reflecting glimpses of not only myself in the past, present and future self but also what the world once was, is and will be in some deranged parallel notion. It is a glimpse of heaven and hell in the same breath. The same laugh that turns into a cry. The same scream that turns into a sigh. This is a resort or sorts. Like Hotel California with a southern drawl. It is a place where people lose themselves in order to find themselves, as all the nonsense and noise gets blown away by the wind and sand. This is a portal of sorts. Some get stuck inside. Some mistakenly find a secret lever. Few discover the password…only to whisper it in the still of night. Somewhere along the horizon’s edge, we try to make sense of it all.
I say all these things to say West Texas – this little speck in the universe is my vice. It is heaven and hell. It is joy and sorrow. It is laughter and tears. It is everything and anything I want, wish or pretend it to be. Yet, that evolution/digression has grown with me, within me. Is it a wasteland or promise land? Is this purgatory or paradise? Well, my friends, beauty has always been in the eye of they beholder, and out here, there is much to behold, there is so much more to contemplate simply because there is room to let the mind and spirit roam free…much like the buffalo and mustangs and all living creatures did not so long ago. I can still feel their spirits rushing through me with the western wind. I can still hear their cries from the crests of these plains. I convince myself we are not alone, although it is difficult to imagine why spirits would remain to watch us chase our tails. This is where crazy meets sane, desert meets plains, sky meets endless horizon, and I love each crescendo, each pause, each sandstorm, each tornado or any distorted notion that any and all of us might remain in the end of all this…thinking or being. Then, I must wonder was it these desolate plains, these sandy hills which inspired me to become me and you to become you. And I laugh and say yes, I guess it was.
This is where insignificance is able to roam free long enough to feel important. This is where rugged features are unique enough to become beautiful. This is where the wind sings its most persistent verse. This is where humanity finds its true meaning somewhere between the horizon’s edge and the sky’s fall. No matter where I go, West Texas will always be home.