The Lies We Tell

Oasis of Mara NPS Photo by Robb Hannawacker

Oasis of Mara
NPS Photo by Robb Hannawacker

I am standing in the middle of the desert watching the light fade away while The Cowboy Junkies sing about Sweet Jane.

No one else around so there is no reason why I can’t turn up the volume so that I don’t have to strain to hear the words but I choose to leave it set as it is.

There is something about straining to hear the words in the middle of nowhere that appeals to me. Maybe it is the idea that a whispering sound makes me think that perhaps some entity will speak to me.

That blaze of 0range and red in the distance almost looks like fire so it doesn’t take much effort to picture a voice coming from a burning bush. In a few moments the fire will be consumed and the light that shines down so brightly will be exchanged for twinkly dots.

Somewhere in between the exchange there will come a moment where I think I hear other voices but I am not sure what they are saying. I try harder and harder to make out the words but the soft mumbling never gets any easier to decipher.

Time loses all meaning for me and I can’t tell you how long I have been standing here or how long ago the music stopped playing. Sweet Jane has gone to wherever she slumbers when not needed and now I am lost in the glow of a million lights in the sky.

Out here there are no city lights to obscure the ethereal quality of a black background peppered with white spots and I am awestruck by it. It is a celestial painting that would be even more magnificent if I could share it but there is no one with me other than those I carry in memory.

I think about trying to take pictures of the sky that I could send. I think about if that would help me better describe the scene but decide some moments cannot be recaptured or shared at a later date. All you can do is live in the one you have and move on to the next one that follows.

Lying down upon the hood of the car, back supported against the windshield I contemplate what I would say if I had the chance and decide I would say nothing because there is nothing to be said.

I know precisely what I think and how I feel and am certain that my recollection is accurate.

Others engage in their chicanery so that they may convince themselves of things they say but don’t really believe. But in this matter I am certain about my position and confident that it doesn’t fall into the category of the lies we tell.

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