After nine straight months of travel, mandog taps into the mysticisms of Atuntaqui, Imbabura and Cotacachi to sense his place in this turned-back-in-time region.
July 26, 2016
Atop the hills of Pacama, Ecuador beneath the exploded remnants of Imbabura, I looked out at the village descending down along the slopes. Cotacachi, the adjacent looming volcano seemed to grab all of the clouds from the sky and color them with the sun's setting hues. Recorded are the words to what I was sensing and seeing.
Nature . Whistle . Thistle . Fall
Lifestyle . People . Purpose . Small
Growing . Crowing . Exploring . Dying
Clamor . Stammer . Wild . Free
Culture . Voices . Rustle . Murmur
Greeting . Fleeting . Remembering . Many
Expanding . Distance . Difference . Indigenous
Coming . Going . Moving . Outward
Practice . Patience . Observance . Relations
Movement . Onward . Followed . Heritage
Cluster . Likeness . Assimilate . Politeness
Extended . Reaching. Harvest . Yielding
Wishing . Hoping . Softly . Spoken
Arriving . Getting . Receiving . Attention
Arriving . Getting . Receiving . Attention
Dated . Dormant . Resident . Shadowing
Dated . Dormant > Resident . Shadowing
Special . Simple . Colorful . Yearly
Covered . Empty . Swaying . Gently
Close . Borrowed . Hearty . Flow
Magic . Mystery . Discovery . Show
I am a story that changes. A varied and interwoven, interconnected compilation
The spaces in which I have crept, crawled, carried myself into, to dig my toes into the Earth and feel it spinning me around. Favoriting this hill, this road and this town. Unclear as to why it and myself had made that connection, but to sense its energy.
To be its energy.
Disturbed, carried away, caught up, confronted with the idea that its not perfect, it might be temporary, it might change or be gone one day and to stop and be in it. See it for all its motions, movements along picturesque grounds. To really allow myself to sink into this place and know it is and has been there. Accept that its a growing, changing experience, but that I was here!
Right in the middle of it all. Or off to the left. Out beyond its light. Beneath what always feels like a different sky. Next to a different neighbor or what feels like a different time. I am a story that changes. A varied and interwoven, interconnected compilation of a billion, trillion particles tossed out and regrouped into a different day, different year and different life.
I can't say what is and what isn't until I've been shot out of this volcano of life and see how it all landed. And to be discovered by the next explorer as they unroot and attempt to dismantle the tireless web we have all been woven into.
But allow me to grow, to try and find myself like my ancestors found their way across the oceans. Using bravery, instinct and the forces that are out there to guide us. I can't be too particular about who I am or what I'm going to do. That's too detracting and causes me to slip from the flow.
Wear green, wear purple. Watch it rain, watch it snow. These things don't matter, but trying to enjoy the day from start to finish, and being grateful that I was here, is.
