Last night was a night sky gleaming with stars. Louise, one of the organizers and I threaded through black back streets on the shortcut to the hotel, through ghostly condos occupied only a few weeks out of the year. One lone Navajo came to the performance, a young man Louise met when she was walking around town. He was lonely for Indians. I know the feeling. I am often lonely for Indians, and lonely for a night sky lit up with stars, like last night. It is the other part of us. Only a sliver of our consciousness occupies the body. More enters when we honor the Creator by creating, or when we see someone (human, sun, stone, creature) as ourselves. The rest of it lives there, in the stars.
October 13, 2006 Ketchum, ID