The dam that creates the lake.
Lovely canyon just steps away--great hiking--Campground is up here on the plateau.
Walked it several times---lush and beautiful.
On several occasions this herd of free ranging horses wandered in.
They are amazingly bold. This one recently lost its mate---and then---
Quickly found another--they loved my carrots.
This little fellow was in the road.
Ever so gently, I got him out of harm's way.
A grade school principal---and the sheriff's daughter-- I engaged--We chatted at length about
One of the first commercial motor homes--a Dodge. This one is the fitted together halves of two wrecks. The builder showed me its interior. He is a master carpenter--rare these days.
A marvel of great craftsmanship from front to rear.
Meet Francis---the focus of this story--He earns his keep for the park by leading hikes into the canyon.
He lives alone in a tiny rig---lives radically simple---except that he spends 6 hours a day on the computer--reading, commenting, writing his blog: www.asimpleandspirituallife.org --gave away most of his nest egg to a religious commune in an emotional surge---says he hates organized religion--have a look for yourself
Probably the most difficult interview I've conducted--he was unpleasant, abusive, and insulting--I endured it to get the story. His opinions are so hardened that he can't listen---only explain his views. He's lost the joys of give and take. For all his vitriol, he could not resist my skillfully inviting questions and focused attention---The devil himself wants to be understood.
RANDY PHILOSOPHIZES: I ask my intuition to tell me why this man is so unpleasant? It said that he has spiraled to that low place in a feedback loop. Moments of unrestrained irritation distanced one after another of his friends---- leaving him more and more alone--with his irritations echoing in his brain. With only ones cranky self for company, one becomes even more cranky. WHEN YOU FOCUS ON THE BAD-----IT EXPANDS---TO FILL YOUR WHOLE AWARENESS. This man has slipped into a deep tar pit and few will join him there for fellowship. I found it painful slogging around down there. In succeeding days as he would walk by I caught him glancing my way---his dark hungry soul wishing for the joy of my attention. I considered--but rejected any further contact---My own soul has all the darkness it can handle.
But to make good on my title question: THE WAY NOT TO GO WHACKO IS TO NOT LOSE YOUR FRIENDS. My friends are my salvation--(and the greater part of any wisdom and inspiration I may have. You know who you are and That I treasure you)