The Road to Taos: A Writer’s Memories

The air is dry now, the early October air singed with a fresh crispness, aspens hurry to turn gold. Signs of pueblos dot the countryside. Unexpected rains force flowers from the barren earth, while overpasses and cement walls north of Santa Fe blush with mosaics.

The drive from Albuquerque to Taos is full of memories. As we travel, I often ponder a writer’s memory and the relationship between memory and imagination. New Mexico conjures up memories of Pueblo bonfires licking the night air on St. Francis Day and Christmas eve, parades of Indians carrying an adorned Virgin Mary in gold —often thought of as Mother Earth. San Geronimo races, Turtle and Deer dances.  Rebellions against the Spanish, invasion of the Anglos, Kit Carson, the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo—ah, I’ve moved into borrowed memories, perhaps another word for research and yes, being a dedicated reader and student.

As for imagination, does it ever spring from a vacuum? From nothingness? Hardly. I believe in the collective unconscious carried by genetics. We all arrive on this earth with substantial prior learning. Early learning further occurs as the brain bursts forth in years 0-3. A two-year-old watches a hummingbird propel itself, the wings keeping it steady, holding it in place, so its beak can target an innocent blossom. Years later the experience becomes a metaphor, and Igor Sikorsky invents a helicopter. But I digress….

Why are we On the Road to Taos?

This entry was posted on Friday, October 4th, 2013 at 9:17 am and is filed under Book Tour, Education, Fiction, Taos, Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.