Fresh, big, and super

Pumping gas yesterday morning in Shamrock, Texas, the strong scent of fresh cow shit wafting across the pavement, I studied Shug's face. Her intense look said either let me roll in it, or get me out of here now. "The only rolling we're going to do is down the exit ramp and on to I-40," I said. I wondered if the Universe was offering me a hint, although not a subtle one. Does it take having shit in my face before I make a change? Maybe so, judging from my past. I have a history of staying with the familiar, even when I'm not happy, a pattern learned in childhood. The old idiom of "better the devil that you know than the devil you don't" has been a truth for me. However, my underlying issue, if that's what you call it, was and is more than one of safety. In my crazy head, I've always assumed that any change I make would disappoint or hurt others, and of course, I put the needs of others first. But not anymore. Shug was my practice case. Everything turned out okay with that. Not even 500 feet away from the gas station and the aroma, and Shug had forgotten. The leftover crumbs from a Happy Hips chicken treat were more interesting to her.

A mammoth cross off I-40 in Groom, Texas nearly caused me to wreck. I've never seen a cross that tall, but what really caught my eye was the convoy of Harley-Davidson riders who were parked before the structure with their heads bowed. Were they repenting for the last evening's debauchery, or just acknowledging Jesus's painful death? As Monica and I have discussed numerous times, why are people so focused on the brutality and hate surrounding Jesus's death? Why not put more focus on His teachings and His life's work. Maybe have someone on the side of the interstate giving out free hugs all in the name of Jesus. Or, maybe have an over-sized billboard that says "God is Love." Monica suggested that a giant Baby Jesus sculpture would get more attention. However, I think a hunky Jesus sculpture would do the trick, one where He is wearing nothing more than that toga-diaper we've seen Him wear in numerous religious paintings. With both of these ideas, our focus would be more on His beauty, joy, and love rather than the hate that surrounded Him.

Near Amarillo, I passed two billboards that let me know that "Top of Texas Catholic Superstore" was off one of the upcoming exits. A Catholic Superstore, now that's a way to mix religion and capitalism I thought. Far better to do it there than in our government. Out of curiosity, I wanted to stop, but I was in no mood to be cynical. After all, was it any of my business if people wanted to buy Joseph statues in bulk?

Crossing the state line into New Mexico, I was astonished by the sudden change in terrain. There was no subtle transition from the farmland to the desert land. While one wasn't superior to the other, I found the immediate shift in my energy and Phoebe's energy quite interesting. Two seconds after honking the horn in acknowledgment of the "Welcome to New Mexico" sign, I felt more peaceful, but Phoebe began her raucous cries. She leaped from my lap on to the pile of clothes in the backseat. Her scowling face and open mouth made me think she was having a delayed response to the cow shit back in Shamrock. Though, by the time we passed through Albuquerque, Phoebe was calm and asleep in the back floorboard; however, I was irritated and tired. "Wherever you go, there you are." I know, damnit!

Gallup, New Mexico and the LaQuinta Inn, my resting place for the night. Gallup is referred to as the "Indian Capital of the World." Cruising down Route 66 toward downtown Gallup, I noticed all the dilapidated buildings and all the shanty houses. Two parking lots full of cars sat out in front of the Navajo Casino. In the backdrop were the colossal rock structures. The red rocks were stunning, and the mass streaked with silver, gold, and pink was heavenly . Shopping in the Albertson's grocery store, I found all the employees, both Hispanics and Native Americans, to be exceedingly polite. Yet, I was overwhelmed by the impoverished attitudes. How ironic I thought. They were surrounded by such natural riches, but all they saw was the poverty.

A day filled with fresh cow shit, a big cross, and a superstore, and all I wanted to do was spend time amongst the fresh, big, and super rock formations. It's best if I respect what the cows do naturally, and it's best if I let the worshippers view Jesus however they like. And it's none of my business that people want to purchase cases of St. Francis medals. What is best for me is to know what is best for me.