What About Albuquerque?

 On March 26, Tyler and I left Gallup, NM and went on to Zuni and El Morro. As I have mentioned, all were memorable places.  While we hoped to camp at El Morro, the small campground was full, so we decided to drive on to Albuquerque, which was about 2 hours away. While we were on the road, I called and reserved a room for four nights. When we arrived, I happily popped out of the truck and went in to register us. I took my place in the short line. 

The person at the front desk appeared to be efficient; she obviously knew her job. However, as I watched, I realized that she was not really interacting with the guests. She knew what she needed to say: "Fill this out and sign and the bottom. We will need your license plate number and your credit card number". She never really looked at the guests while doing what needed to be done. It was around 5:00 p.m. or so, a time when travelers and out of town workers are often tired and want only to settle in their room. For some, this interaction might be enough.         

When it was my turn, she realized she had not pulled our reservations. I told her that I was not surprised, I made the reservation only about an hour or so ago. She, on the other hand, expressed much surprise. Talking more to herself than to me, she replied, "But I always have things ready." 

I, however, am at the stage of life when efficiency has pretty much lost its luster. I smiled and said, "What beautiful earrings you are wearing." On each ear she wore a large blue circular disc surrounded by beads. She stopped and looked at me. She then touched one of her earrings, a movement that many of who wear earrings often do when someone notices what we have on. Maybe I am not alone in needing to touch them to actually remember what I am wearing. She then added, "I am an Indigenous beader. I usually sit here and bead." I would have liked to have learned more, but there were weary people waiting behind me. I thanked her for her help and her beautiful work. This time, she smiled. The next day I saw her again. She was holding her beading project close to her face and was working with much attention. As I needed nothing from the front desk, I chose not to interrupt her. I did not see her again.

This interaction set the tone for my trip to Albuquerque. Tyler and I had come for one reason: to see if we believed that we could live there. For me, that meant talking to people. It was a wonderful experience. I even talked to the wind. On our first full day there, the wind came through, stirring up a sandstorm. Tyler made just one comment: "You have got to be kidding." I laughed, and said, "Hello Wind. I remember you from my childhood. I see you have come to welcome us." I grew up in West Texas where one is often greeted by wind and dust.     

Yet, it seems that even in an arid land, lilacs grow. The scent was so enticing, as the people, the art, the food, also proved to be. More to follow.      

  

    

 image: Lilacs growing in Old Town Albuquerque 

Sanctuary

 When we camp, we almost never have access to water, so we bring our own. We have a tank that Tyler has mounted on the inside wall of the camper, and it holds close to ten gallons. The tank is connected to a hose and a pump, giving us fairly easy access. Nonetheless, when camping, especially in an arid land, we don't want to be frivolous with our water use. That has been our practice, regardless of where we camp. 

On March 31, we found a campsite tucked in among some sycamore trees that were growing close to the Gila River. The next morning before we left, I told Tyler I wanted to wash my face and hands. He turned on the pump and poured some water into my cupped palms. After I washed, I did the same for him. That moment of holding the water in my hands and pouring water into his felt both sacred and humbling.  

Two days before when we were preparing to leave Albuquerque, we bought water at a local market to replenish our tank. Tyler undertook this transfer in the parking lot of our hotel.  

We stayed four nights in this Best Western hotel. The hotel was pretty standard, but our room was on the third floor and there were two trees growing right outside our window. Their location meant that our window was at leaf level. Every morning we would wake to birdsong and green leaves. It was as if the trees themselves were singing the day into existence.  

When the tank was full, we had  about half a gallon of water left over. I took the container over to the trees and gave them both a drink, and thanked them for their presence. They had given sanctuary to the birds and to us. Trees in an arid land are allies indeed. May we learn to be as well.     

  

"I will travel pathways of connection,

for you have expanded my heart."   

Psalm 119:32

Psalms, Ancient Songs for these Times 

Rabbi Yael Levy      

              

    

  

Dreaming of There

 In the dream I am walking

through a desert.

I am seeing rocks on the ground

with the word "There" carved 

in their stone. 

I believe I am following 

the path of an artist.  

There are others with me.  

I wonder about these stones,

where they might be leading 

me.  

We arrive at a hotel 

and we sleep.

It is strange to dream

of falling asleep while sleeping. 

It is not easy to wake up 

while believing I am still

in the dream.   

I stand and look out the window.   

It takes a few moments 

to realize that I am 

not there, I am here,

still in the dream,

still trying to listen to 

the guidance of an artist 

who speaks through carved stones.

How can I tell when 

I am on my way to there?   

Perhaps I am already gone.     

   

say, April 2026    

  

       

  

image: Petroglyph National Monument, Western Trail NW, Albuquerque, March 2026