Elk Springs, Colorado
We are in the area traversed (or rather galloped) by the notorious Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Butch was apparently a thief, a robber of banks and of horses. One local person told myself and the boys that Butch would send photos of himself in the fine clothes he had stolen to the actual merchant he had taken them from. That sounds like pouring salt on the wounds.
We were cooking our kitchari outside at Maybell’s park when the history of the West was coming our way.
Backtracking to Steamboat Springs was intended for chanting and a chat about Tales From Trails at the Sundance Yoga Studio last evening. Talaya hosted us, and the group that showed up was great. They especially liked the philosophical point that we are not our bodies. “The body is the vehicle and our soul is the engine that mobilizes the body.”
I believe that Butch Cassidy, in a big way, was taking his body to be the self: perhaps even considering himself as God and thus doing whatever he so wished.
Today has been an interesting day of meeting motorists. One person from Maine offered me water. So did a fellow from Boulder. A mystery donor left two fresh bottles of spring water on the shoulder of the road, for me, no doubt. How kind. There’s no one else around. It’s a desert here.
One final guy, 55, said he was from Saskatchewan. He pulled his truck over, walked up to me where I was trekking at Elk Springs, a ghost town of sorts, and asked, “Can yah come and visit me?”
“Where do you live?”
He pointed to his truck and let down the tailgate. There we sat and chatted.
“Why is there so much pain in the world,” he asked. “I thought a monk would know.”
“Because people forget to count their pleasures and gifts,” I said.
May the Source be with you!