Meow Wolf

Humans are weird and wonderful creatures. Meow Wolf art collective’s House of Eternal Return is a unique, creative, interactive embodiment of just that.

Built in a former Santa Fe bowling alley and funded in part by George R. R. Martin, the massive 20,000 square-foot exhibit has been visited by tens of thousands of people in the two months since it opened.

The permanent installation is incredible in its scale and variety. Centered around a Victorian-style home, full of relics and documents that beg visitors to uncover a story, hundreds of interactive spaces sprawl in all directions. Crawl through the fireplace, walk through the fridge, exit through the closet, and one enters other worlds.

From squatting baobabs covered with luminescent fungi to a musical mastodon skeleton and futuristic creatures, from LED light instruments in fog-filled rooms to a cartoon kitchen, Meow Wolf embraces an impressive array of visual, auditory, and sensory mediums. The interpretation and meaning are sure to be as varied as the visitors who roam the spaces, free to touch, move, and explore everything around them.

The collective also embraces other aspects of the New Mexico community. The neon shantytown doubles as a performance space. The collective puts on workshops for children. Food trucks ply the parking lot.

After a visit to such a unique space, I was left with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and wonder. Kudos to artists who can collaborate to bring such variety of experience and expression to one place, and to those who can get so many people interested in going to see it. 

Buoyant

There are few things as magical as the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta. Watching over 700 hot air balloons fill the horizon, drifting on the invisible currents, is an awe-inspiring experience. It is a sight well worth making a trip, but we New Mexicans are lucky enough to have this happening in our own backyard.

And why Albuquerque? Well not only is our weather beautiful in early October (okay, it’s a bit chilly in the early morning when people begin to pile into the park), but we have a meteorological phenomenon that makes Albuquerque uniquely suited to hot air ballooning. It’s called the Albuquerque Box, in which northerly winds take the balloons southward, then once the balloons ascend to a higher elevation the winds take them back in the opposite direction, making it possible (in theory and when conditions are right) to land right back on the field.

As you can guess, this isn’t always the way it happens. You certainly don’t have to attend the balloon fiesta to watch the numerous balloons flying high over the city. Much of the time balloon chase crews end up driving around town as the balloons plunk their gondolas down in residential neighborhoods, land in any of Albuquerque’s numerous open green spaces, and occasionally drop into streets.

As the world’s largest hot air balloon festival, Albuquerque’s Balloon Fiesta draws visitors from all over the state, country, and world, with over 800,000 visitors annually, which adds up to some pretty hefty crowds and equally heavy traffic clogging up I-25 morning and evening.

But with balloon glows morning and evening, a mass ascension on the weekends at dawn, fair-style New Mexican food chockfull of green chile, balloon flying competitions, and a number of family-friendly booths and activities, it is worth fighting the traffic, being jostled by  crowds, getting up hours before the sun rises, and bundling up against the morning chill for at least one visit.

Or if you’re unfortunate enough to attend on one of the days where there’s a wind cancellation, like we were this year, it is worth doing it all over again the next weekend. Especially when the second time you’re blessed with perfect fall weather and such breathtakingly beautiful sights. 

Colorsplosion!

This past weekend marked my six monthiversary as a non-smoker. To celebrate, I ran my first ever 5k. And I did it in a big, colorful way. 

Let me make one thing clear: I am not a runner. It’s not that I don’t like physical activity; I love to be outdoors, to push the limits of what I can do, to challenge myself physically and mentally. I have strength and flexibility in spades, and my lung capacity is finally recovering after eight years of smoking being a vital part of my cardio regimen.

But running, just plain old running, is something I find to be unbearable. Not only does it mean wearing shoes, to which I am generally opposed, but it is tedious and boring. I am just not athletic or competitive enough to have the desire to run. Where's the variety? Where's the fun?

And then a beautiful event crossed my path, scheduled for six months, to the day, after I quit smoking. The Color Run. It looked awesome, even if running was inherently part of the deal. So I got some friends together to form a team. I figured, support and commitment to others is important when you’re doing something you’re not naturally inclined toward.

As the day came, bright and early, six thousand color runners decked out in crisp, clean white t-shirts waited at the starting line. Young and old, in strollers, on foot and in wheelchairs, color runners came in all shapes and sizes. Donning knee socks, tutus, wigs, and wedding dresses, this crowd was ready to celebrate life.

Five kilometers, hundreds of barrels of colored powder, and a dash of early morning cardio later, and there was nothing clean or white to be seen. And then, just to be certain, we all rejoiced by throwing color up in the air, again and again, because you can never be colorful enough. 

Vibrant, multi-hued, full of joy and celebration about having healthy, beautiful human bodies. Non-competitive, full of high fiving and support. Totally worth a little bit of running and one helluva scrub-down post-run shower.

Ring of Fire

When I was in first or second grade, there was a solar eclipse. We all ran out to the playground with our homemade pin-hole viewers, full of excitement. The whole thing was brief (if I remember correctly), but thrilling.

Well, this past weekend, those of us in Albuquerque, New Mexico, were blessed with yet another solar eclipse. The shadow of the eclipse passed directly over a relatively small patch of earth, much of it in the Pacific. But Albuquerque residents were fortunate enough to be dead-center on the path of the eclipse, where the moon was to pass directly in front of the sun.

And pass in front of it, it did. However, it was unlike the eclipse of my childhood. The whole process roughly two hours long, with four minutes of full eclipse time, but it was an annular eclipse. It was also what's called an "annular" eclipse, where the moon isn't close enough to block out the whole of the sun. So, the fortunate viewer sees a “ring of fire” in the sky.

A clear evening, not a cloud in sight, it was perfect for view such a phenomenon (with the right glasses, welding masks, or contraptions, of course). And as the sunlight was gradually dimmed, the change was palpable, an orange dust coating our city. It was a lovely, magical way to spend a Sunday evening.

Mobile Bliss

We spend very little of our time living in the present moment. Between endless to-do lists and planning, not to the mention frequent “did I turn off the stove?” and “oh no, I feel like I'm forgetting something,” our minds race from one thing to another, rarely slowing down enough to do just one thing at a time.

But I feel blessed. I have found solace from this constant mental racing in the strangest of places. I have recently discovered a sort of meditation-in-motion every time I drive my scooter around town. Unlike driving a car – battling traffic, shoulders tensed, constantly frustrated, fingers poised for honking – cruising about on my little 50 cc scooter I find myself completely relaxed. (It’s hard to believe I was ever terrified by the prospect of driving a scooter.)

I expected to feel anxious on a scooter; I am, after all, much smaller and slower than the other vehicles on the road. But it is this size and speed difference what has altered my attitude about driving. I am forced into being completely aware of my surroundings – other cars, potholes, trash – in a way that matters less when driving a car. I am able to feel the nuances of the pavement and must move subtly within the confines of my lane in order to avoid excessive jostling and bouncing about. It is this awareness that keeps me tuned in to the present moment, rather than worrying about reaching my destination or what I must do once there.

Scooter driving has also cultivated an attitude of calm in regard to trying to keep pace with those around me. Being able to only reach speeds of 30-35 mph, I must practice more fully acceptance of my limitations. Pass me if you must. I am not in control of other people’s need to rush (though I do try to only take roads with these lower speed limits, out of compassion for those in a hurry). And this is something that I try to carry around with me in the rest of my day – I can only do what I am capable of today.

I’m sure that many of the people behind the wheel of a car find me frustrating (especially with the number of scooters in Albuquerque ever-increasing), but I try to just let that thought wash over me and disappear, choosing to focus instead on just being attentive.

And so, I coast around town with none of the tension I experience when driving a car. Sun on my face, wind whipping my hair around, catching whiffs of flowering plants, noticing just how many butterflies flit around town unnoticed. Calm and present, doing something we should all try to do more often: doing just one thing.

Like a Velcro Snowball, Picking up Fuzzy New Mexicans One at a Time

Recently there have been a record number of New Mexicans in Thailand. Truthfully, we were more than a little bit responsible for the phenomenon.

Yes, it’s true that we invited and encouraged Jenny and Ansel to purchase plane tickets and venture across the wide ocean, even going so far as to offer up our spare bedroom. And yes, we did plan a comprehensive itinerary that resulted in the intersecting of many New Mexican lives and the intoxication that ensued.

And, we must admit, it was us who thought of Mr. Bradley Opatz when we heard of an opening at the university, way off in the jungle and covered with monkeys, where our friends work. However, it isn’t our fault that he fits in so well or likes it so much. Although, we did know in advance that “Bladley is so lubley”. We should have seen it coming. Kop.

However, we accept no responsibility for Mikal Davis’ presence in Thailand. But since he chased us all over the place, always a day behind our travels, we might as well drink a beer or two with him. And I’m sure when we were in Bali and Java with him, we might have said he was welcome to stop by, but there’s no hard evidence that the conversation ever took place.

And Jacqueline mentioned that she wanted a job, we can’t help it that we ambushed her with a job, a place to stay, and a surrogate Thai mother. We didn’t know she wasn’t expecting to start right away despite the semester being more than half over. But yes, when you bring it up, it is because of Win and me meddling that she (newly-dubbed Jackrin) is staying here.

It was a big ol’ New Mexico party in Thailand, complete with beer, Bangkok, and several touristy day trips. Considering our success the New Mexican import business, we are thinking it may be a lucrative side job.