New Mexico: it’s too personal to me.
by Sherri Bryant

 

I cannot begin to describe to you what drew me here in the first place, it is all too personal to me. I can’t explain to you how the stars look here or make me feel, or that they are so close that you can reach out and take one home with you. I cannot accurately describe the crisp, clear, cold mountain water; how it tastes, how it feels. The absolute ultimate thrill of jumping in a mountain pool and losing near all feeling until your senses return and rejoice in what you have done. I cannot describe the gentle yarrow growing on top of Wheeler Peak as it stands our highest crown in all its majestic beauty.

I cannot describe the feeling emanating to the soul as the sounds of Santana float across the mountaintops of the enchanted circle. Nor the smell as wood-smoke and coffee mingle in the air of Red River. I cannot describe the feeling of falling in fresh New Mexico snow. I cannot describe the sensation of the tingling hot-spring mineral waters revitalizing your body. Or the feeling of awe as one enters El Santuario de Chimayó, the shrine of healing, New Mexico’s Lourdes, nor the sight of its annual pilgrimage by the followers of faith to reach its holy ground.

I cannot impart the taste of New Mexican enchiladas smothered in the famous green chili or the local sopapillas dripping with honey. Nor the sight of the beautiful red ristras hanging from roadside stands and farmers’ markets. I cannot describe the beauty of the Southwestern and Native America art forms that create the kaleidoscope of visual delight in places like Santa Fe and Taos. I cannot even begin to describe the variety of persons on the streets, dressed in all manor of attire, some sporting dogs, others political or social objections.

I cannot describe the intense feeling of isolation and darkness and the question of UFOs as one is driving across NM State Highway 550 at night and the relief in the view coming over the last hill with the lights of Albuquerque on the horizon. I cannot describe landing at the Albuquerque Sunport after having caught the midnight flight in from somewhere else and the gathering of the motley groups of laid-back travelers, whom among them might be a rock star or a famous writer in route to Santa Fe. Nor the memory of the airport before it was the Sunport and getting off the plane out on the runway and walking up to the terminal like something out of an old movie.

I cannot describe the incredibly beautiful cultural influence on guest rooms at places like El Monte Sagrado, The Inn of the Five Graces, and Dancing Ground of the Sun. Nor the exquisite treatments you will receive at some of the famous New Mexico spas like Ten Thousand Waves or Inn at Loretto. I cannot describe sitting on a balcony in Santa Fe, high above the sunset spraying the sky with an artist’s palette of colors as dusk comes and the twinkle of the lights from Los Alamos begin to replace the fading ecstasy while the smell of sage wafts on the evening breeze.

I cannot describe the feeling of arriving in the mountains in the wee hours of the morning after a long, hot drive from Texas, and getting out of the car and needing to put on a sweater to pump that last round of gas as the smell of pine engulfs you, beckoning your senses to reel. I cannot describe the overwhelming spiraling spaces winding their way down into the depths of Carlsbad Caverns nor the odd and magical rock faces peering at you along the way nor can I describe the first breath of air and vision of sunlight after emerging from its womb of cool darkness.

I cannot describe the quiet beauty of a deer walking casually across the main street in Ruidoso amidst cars and people, tourist shops and motels. I cannot describe the pure enjoyment of taking your bike to the top of mountain and riding it down, fear or no fear. I cannot describe the excitement of driving off-road in any of New Mexico’s back country such as the Gila National Forest or the road from Cuba to Los Alamos. I cannot describe the rushing waters of the Rio Grande or the Rio Grande Gorge bridge towering over the river and basalt lava flows at a height of six-hundred and fifty feet. I cannot describe looking down to the river below.

I cannot describe any of these things to you because they are all too personal to me. You’ll just have to come experience New Mexico for yourself.