White Sands National Monument - Alamogordo, NM
The problem with lightheartedness is that it’s the same mask I wear all day, every day.
The digital version of myself has more to say, less fear of rejection.
It drives the narrative of the darker side, and it clicks “send” without telling me.
I wake up to a hit of dopamine and I don't feel like I've done anything to get it.
Plus, once the darkness is out there, I don’t feel so bound by it.
I can relate to it as a third-party rather than spin the plates inside my own head.
White Sands is a dream.
The type of place I know I will revisit as a memory.
As an older boy or a younger man, I visited Austria/Switzerland/Germany as a member of the Fort Bend Boys Choir.
After a concert in the mountains, we were told to place a bookmark on the day in our minds.
To use it as a good memory to draw from whenever we needed, for whatever reason.
More than one person has reverently brought it up over the decades since.
I won't have Rodney in 10 years. But I will still go to this day with him in my mind.
It drives the narrative of the darker side, and it clicks “send” without telling me.
I wake up to a hit of dopamine and I don't feel like I've done anything to get it.
Plus, once the darkness is out there, I don’t feel so bound by it.
I can relate to it as a third-party rather than spin the plates inside my own head.
White Sands is a dream.
The type of place I know I will revisit as a memory.
As an older boy or a younger man, I visited Austria/Switzerland/Germany as a member of the Fort Bend Boys Choir.
After a concert in the mountains, we were told to place a bookmark on the day in our minds.
To use it as a good memory to draw from whenever we needed, for whatever reason.
More than one person has reverently brought it up over the decades since.
I won't have Rodney in 10 years. But I will still go to this day with him in my mind.
I spent 15 minutes in a “complete darkness mask” at Phillip and Kelsi’s and learned that blind people use the warmth of the sun to tell which cardinal direction they are facing, so they can get where they need to go.
I also learned that I can’t tell which bottle of whiskey is being opened by the sound of the cork. There are too many variations in a single bottle, and I’ve never listened closely enough to have a reference.
I can tell when someone is smiling though.
I’ve never had much trouble with that one.
It’s why I’ve always had such a problem with most pop music.
If you smile while you tell me you’re sad or sorry, I don’t need to see you.
Rodney and I walk far enough into the sands that the only humans we can see are the ones dotting the tops of the dunes, waiting for sunset.
Rodney knows that the sunset is just a distraction.
An easy target. Something to talk about without revealing too much.
People get scared when you show them The Great Oz, without the build up and the back story.
And the front.
It's the same fear they show you when they are reminded that they're scared of death.
If you show people you are willing to accept their darkness, they flinch.
Because then rejection would be personal.
As the sun starts to set, the show begins.
The sands go dark, then light. The shadows disappear, and the light becomes indirect.
Your brain tries to make sense of changing color and abnormal textures.
It's a normal sunset.
You just aren't overwhelmed with other things.
Sort of like a 275 square mile James Turrell.
This is probably my favorite part.
Navigating the gypsum dunes as they blend and exchange hues with the sky feels like walking on a different planet.
One direction is dark sands and bright sky.
The other direction is darkening sky and #lit sands.
Rodney seems to enjoy himself.
I have a feeling he isn't as color blind as people expect him to be.
Eventually, purple sands and blue-green sky guide us out of the hills.
It starts to feel greedy.
Asking for more after so much has been given.
The show is over.
Just one last picture.
Even the desert needs to rest.
