Author: Martian Joe

Everyone has a history that is unique to their given human experience. Everyone has a past full of boxes; containers of memories, ideas, belief systems, experiences that shape, mold and guide the subtle shifts into the being we are today versus yesterday, last month, last year.

It was a transcendental week on the ranch. Nearly everyone has packed up and left for the winter even though it looks and feels like early October. The private paradise I get to call home feels larger now, more rugged, more remote with the lack of human energy buzzing about.

Wednesday I chose to tear off the blinders and examine my core. To take a deep dive and see what’s laying about the attic of my psyche. Dust. Boxes and boxes full of dust. Every box I looked at, struggled to open but tore off the long locked lid and peaked inside was full of nothingness. No presence, no torment, no pain, just… dust from what was.

I am the man I am today. He is not the man he was a year ago, as evidenced by this site’s history. I arrived a man with heavy baggage, laden with oh so many boxes long since sealed, stacked and sometimes buried. The full reboot took until late Thursday but the facts are clear. The attic is now freshly cleaned. The boxes full of nothing but the idea of the past could simply be examined for what they were – the past. They are not the present, not the future, and they were oh so heavy to schlep around all these years.

There is no need to carry them any more.

The old dog has developed some hip issues. Tightening of the joints, stiffening of the hips, and general signs of an old being whose body is beginning to fail him. His eyes are clear, his mind his sharp and his spirit wants to move with me, but the body soon lets him down.

We have tried a few medications. Some cause drowsiness which seems like cheating an old fellow that naturally sleeps 19-20 hours a day as it is. Some cause long term kidney, heart or lung issues, but they did not seem to loosen him up or help him move.

I’ve had three friends suggest CBDs lately so last weekend, whilst in the metropolis that is Fort Garland, I stopped at the hemp store. Much to my surprise they have a line of products specifically for dogs. Tinctures, dog biscuits, and various infused snacks.

We started low. Five milligrams in the morning, and five at night. The changes in the old boy are notable. He acts lighter, freer, less tied to the struggling body as he moves with much less discomfort. Slowly and methodically, we can again go out for daily walks. An activity that, after doing daily with this creature for over twelve years, I too was missing the routine.

I am just pleased to ease his pain and see the lightness in his being. He deserves the best I can proffer the old boy.

Seasons are not the same year to year. Everyone can sense the differences, no matter how small, if they are in tune. The changes here, however, November 2020 versus November 2021, are not subtle but I am enjoying the freedom. The ranch is mostly devoid of humans now, a hunting lull and most have packed and winterized their cabins, returning to their winter lives.

A year ago this week I was dependent upon Moon Bug to get to and from the house, the Jeep parked down at the junction of Borman and Kline. From there, I could still drive wheeled down the mountain as long as I was careful. It was cold, blistery and I was attacking my wood reserves twofold, notably for I did not understand the subtleties of modern wood stoves.

This year the ground is bare. The temperatures are in the fifties most afternoons under a fully pounding Fall sun, so life is much different here year to year. I am burning from my wood piles as of today, six weeks or so later to start diminishing piles carefully crafted over the summer. Moon Bug is tracked up, sitting idle. I watched friends take a booze cruise around upper Schierl last night in a wheeled vehicle. The entire ranch is still snow free.

Another day to go outside and enjoy the bonus of our Fall. I have company this weekend and next, with nary a snow storm in sight.

The old boy joined me twelve years ago today. I had an old goofy pit bull at the time and no one could tire that girl out, so I went hunting for a companion for the pit. Picked on a whim for the dogs bonded quickly, the old boy is the smartest, most in tune dog I’ve ever had.

He is aging, now at fifteen plus, but it has been a good life. He’s never known me to leave home for a job, working remotely since before he arrived. He has been part of packs, and has had a few years solo with me, my daily companion. This ranch is his retirement home, and it is a gift for him to explore as well.

I will scritch his butt when he rises; sleeping is his new favorite activity.

Arrival Day, 2009

Summer, 2011

Deck Chair Dog, 2014

Sitting on the Pit – his favorite seat, 2015

Sitting on the Pit, 2016

Vacation, 2018

The Elder, 2021

I have been told this several times by several different people – this is a healing valley. I now believe it to be true.

My second cabin is only two miles from town center versus our remoteness, but my new tenant has uttered the same. I have friends visiting next week who no longer live here, but are in the process of returning; one visit with me and they are again hooked on this grounding, calming, open, healing valley I get the privilege of calling home.

This late in the year I am still meeting new people, including a couple that plan to winter here next year. Another couple I met this summer are considering the same. This place draws you in, grabs you, and shakes your soul just enough to allow things to resettle themselves. It is a feeling that, once it takes hold, you don’t want it to let you go.