Despairing of God, I came to the desert seeking saints.
The tongue of the tribe sleeping in my family
whispers spiny songs: chumpaco / place where they killed
the dogs: huirives / bird: bacochibampo / the water of the
serpents: bajeribampo / water of the lizards: cuirimpo /
the place of the drummers.
This Rose Makes for a Peach of a Shot — Image by kenne
“When autumn darkness falls, what we will remember are the small acts of kindness: a cake, a hug, an invitation to talk, and every single rose. These are all expressions of a nation coming together and caring about its people.”
The band Shiny Penny is currently on a tour that will keep them on the road through the end of the year, and last night they played here in Tucson at the Original Sagebrush Cantina.
We have been listening to their music for a while now and live the sound of Shiny Penny. Most of us who love live music know what it’s like to fall in love with the sound and end up being very disappointed with their live performance — not the case with Shiny Penny. This entertaining band grabs you with the first tune, and you are in for a real ride through to the last.
I have some video from last night that I will be editing and post at a later date.
Next stop, San Diego — Follow Shiny Penny on Facebook.
Here’s their latest video, just out October 23, 2018.
My home was at Cold Mountain from the start, Rambling among the hills, far from trouble.
Gone, and a million things leave no trace loose, and it flows through the galaxies A fountain of light, into the very mind — Not a thing, and yet it appears before me: Now I know the pearl of the Buddha-nature Know its use: a boundless perfect sphere.
A fun hike with beautiful views north and south of the Santa Catalina Mountains can be experienced by hiking the Green Mountain trail out of the General Hitchcock campgrounds to the Guthrie Peak trail. The hike was the last scheduled hike for the SCVN Friday hikes at the cooler temperatures in the mountains before beginning our winter hikes in Sabino Canyon next week.
The morning forecast was for rain in the mountains, spreading to the lower elevations by late afternoon. This might explain why Tim and I had only one hiker (Deborah) with us, the least number in our experience guiding the SCVN hikes. Reasons for such a low number are sheer speculation at this date, however we will continue to evaluate the service SCVN is providing through our scheduled Friday public hikes.
Regardless, the weather was great and as you can see from the photos in this posting, we had another excellent hiking experience. This was Deborah’s first Guthrie Peak hike and what better way than with Tim and I giving her all our guide attention.
kenne
Panorama View from Guthrie Peak of Storm Clouds Moving Into The Tucson Area — Image by kenne
(Click on any of the images below for a larger view in a slideshow format.)
When the afternoon dies and age advances with its disconcerting turns when silence falls silent for the last time and the voice disintegrates in the cracks of the soul and the word extinguishes its lantern before dawn falls over streets and mountains and the spirit closes its windows to shut out the morning’s light, only music will be left, little one, music, to remind us that not everything is in vain.
“Thinking about a poem I’ll never write. With gut on wood and hide, and plucking thumb, Grope and stutter for the words, invent a tune, In any tongue, this moment one time true Be wine or blood or rhythm drives it through — A leap of words to things and there it stops. Creating empty caves and tools in shops And holy domes, and nothing you can name; The long old chorus blowing underfoot Makes high wild notes of mountains in the sea. O Muse, a goddess gone astray Who warms the cow and makes the wise man sane, (&even madness gobbles demons down) Then dance through jewelled trees & lotus crowns For Narihira’s lover, the crying plover, For babies grown and childhood homes And moving, moving, on through scenes and towns Weep for the crowds of men Like birds gone south forever. The long-lost hawk of Yakamochi and Thoreau Flits over yonder hill, the hand is bare, The noise of living families fills the air.”
Sonoran Desert Sunrise — Image by kenne
