No more running. I’ve already hemmed and hawed and sniffed and pawed and dreamed and schemed and tried to cheat my way to heaven for more years than most of you reading this have been alive. The last fifteen years in Taos have blown the half-way measures all to hell, but that’s probably what they were for.
Interestingly, someone I respect emailed this a few weeks ago. It means a lot to me:
You’re one of the few who arrived and immediately experienced the spiritual imagination of the place and appreciated it in an articulate and instinctive way. What intrigues me is how many people move here and are tone deaf. I can’t figure out why they are here since they might as well live in Colorado: beautiful but soul-less (to me except for the southern border counties). Tahoe is similar: beautiful but the chthonic spirits are absent. ‘Course sometimes a man needs relief from the resonating spirits. They can drive you mad.
“One of the few,” okay then. Pay attention and be true.
John Hamilton Farr lives in Taos, New Mexico, U.S.A. As New York Times best-selling author James C. Moore tells it, John is “a man attuned to the world who sees it differently than you and I and writes about it with a language and a vision of life that is impossible to ignore.” See .png)