Honor

I've just returned from a 2,600 mile round trip to Arizona. I went to rehome-resettle an injured horse and pick up a few things from storage to bring back to my little abode here in Oregon.

Why did I do that? Why did I drive 2,600 miles over mountains and across deserts through small towns, avoiding cities, seeking camping spots, and eschewing motels?

I love the long passages of spotty radio coverage, the places with hardly cell phone, let alone internet. Lots of time with what music is on the thumb drive or the silence behind the wind with the window wound down.

Why do I do it? Why care so much about one little horse when there are people being picked off the street and imprisoned, leaving kids wondering where their parent went?

And why worry about that when there are thousands starving in Sudan? And why them when Gaza is a seething death camp orchestrated by a frightened country that hasn't dealt with its traumatic heritage?

Why do I listen to and research the news when I could drink more, care less, and hide in my just fine world?

But I do care about all of that - the little horse, the refugees, the dying, the politicians, and the traumatized. If I didn't care, if I buried myself in more stuff, in isolation, in tiny excuses, I would have rescinded the honor of being human.

If I didn’t take time to run, to read, to have food and wine with friends, visit a sick friend, feel the hummingbird wing on my face in the morning sun while I meditate, clean my car, or to honor all the opportunities to connect, be present, I'd succumb to fear, anger and grief.

I have to live as a tribute to those who came before me, to honor and respect all they've given me, knowingly or not. I have to live for those who come after me, knowingly or not. I have to live fully with the life I have and in the world in which it happens now.

If I fail to be present, if I allow stress and anxiety to destroy me, who do I serve? No one. There is no past and no future if I do not hold the center.

So, I drive 2600 miles, I sit in a desert hot spring in silence, I work on budgets for a movie, I offer workshops, I run on legs that used to be younger, I walk with my 2-year-old grandson. He carries a stick and smells the flowers literally. I carry the tiny scooter he abandoned on the pavement, and I'm encouraged again, the news of the day receding for a moment.

There will be a tomorrow and I will be here for it. It's an honor to be so.

June 12th 2025

This might explain the delay in posts! It was a fast 12 days with an intense 6-day middle. Grateful for all the help and support for Millie (the injured horse) and for the family who ‘made’ me and the one I am helping to shape now. I will be present, I won’t turn away, and I will celebrate the beauty that balances the destruction. I intend to live with honor and encourage you to do the same. It’s the only way forward.