Yellow Roads of Taos

Something strange happens almost every time I’m out here. The energy on this particular stretch is rather strong, in fact. This is more or less where I once “fell” twice on successive days, going each way. The first time was a surprise. The second time, I was actually trying not to fall down, aware of the danger as I walked uphill, and still I crashed into the dirt! To me it felt like being swatted by a giant hand.

Today I experienced an auditory hallucination about fifty yards up the hill from here. That happens a lot anyway, what with my hearing loss—it’s not just that you don’t hear things, you hear things that just aren’t there at all. Little noises end up amplified against the stillness. Buzzing horseflies sound like human voices. There may be rattles, scraping, knocking on the rocks behind me as I walk, like animals or people on the trail. Maybe it’s the sound of bighorns clattering over the rocks just out of sight below the ridge, I tell myself. If the sun’s gone down, I think of spaceships, strange forbidden rituals, warps of time and space.

This morning it was a single human voice, a woman, as loud and clear as anything. I thought for certain she’d be with a group of bikers coming up the path. “Where’s the hand?” it said. I was so sure this was real, I stood off the trail to wait for them to pass, but no one came. Where’s the hand? Are you kidding me? [Go see the first paragraph again.] The next thing was, I thought I’d better find the goddamned thing, if there was one that wanted finding. I scanned the hillside on the other side of the arroyo. Nothing. I gazed into the brush with unfocused eyes. Nothing. No bony fingers reaching from the dust. Probably a good thing.

Anyway, looky where I get to hike! Earth boy does good.