Flame Spirals: The Nocturnal Photography of Stu Jenks: Chapter Seventeen: “Tumamoc Hill, Tucson, Arizona"

Flame Spirals: The Nocturnal Photography of Stu Jenks:

Chapter Seventeen: “Tumamoc Hill, Tucson, Arizona" © 2007, 2008

[December 21st, 2007: The Night of the Winter Solstice]

     The Mount Lemmon Road is closed at the base. Too much snow for travel to the top, to anyone other than residents of Summerhaven. I wasn't happy about that but I wasn't that mad either. OK, a little angry maybe, for I do prefer to pray at Solstice Rock on this day and I knew that I could make up there in my 4 x 4 truck, but it's really only important to me, that I pray on Solstice Rock. God doesn't care where I am when I do my Big Prayer. Actually, my God doesn't care if I pray at all. He's that loving of a guy.
    So I trusted my gut and headed to Tumamoc instead.
    It's around 7 p.m now. It's dark up here at the summit but bright as Christmas below. The view from Tumamoc Hill to the East is of the whole Tucson Valley. Tumamoc is literally in the center of the city, a protected nature preserve, two miles east of downtown. Lights are on in the nearby skyscrapers. I’m guessing that immigrant cleaning crews are emptying the trash on this Friday before Christmas. Semis with red and yellow running lights, roar on the Interstate below me. The street grids can easily be seen, of Broadway and 22nd Street and even of the diagonal Aviation Parkway. And thousands of sepia brown streetlights twinkle below, like a old photograph of a Christmas tree.
    The Big Prayer was for Open-Heartedness this year. Unlike other years, I started with myself. I usually end with asking God to hear my personal prayer, but I was pretty annoyed with not being able to get up to Solstice Rock. Then that brought up some anger and disappointment regarding some friends and then some frustration with my family at Christmas Time and before I knew it, I wasn’t even walking up Tumamoc anymore but living in the blind illusion of my own expectations and thoughts. I became aware of my own insanity about halfway up Tumamoc and said loudly “God, help me be Open-Hearted to them!” Then I smiled and realized I had my Big Prayer. By the time I reached the summit I had prayed for Open-Heartedness for everyone from Catalina, who live just over there, to the Universe itself.
    I don’t want to leave. It’s so beautiful up here tonight. I take a deep breath and smile. Just a bit longer. The wind picks up, chilling me through my polar fleece. I pull down my Boo Boo hat to warm my ears. I breathe in deeply again. The smell of creosote and mesquite is on the wind, a scent created by yesterday’s rain. The Catalina Mountains loom to the north, capped with new snow.
    I feel very blessed. Very rich, with little cash in my pocket. Very loved, with no loved ones close by. Very fulfilled, with no personal accomplishments near me.
    Time to go. Catalina and I are going to do a bit of Christmas tonight, since I’ll be in Virginia for the holidays. Hope she likes the photograph of Laxmii I made for her.
    I stand, blow Tucson a big kiss, and then head down the hill to my truck.

Comments

[Andy Frazer]

You wrote: "God doesn't care where I am when I do my Big Prayer. Actually, my God doesn't care if I pray at all. He's that loving of a guy."

This is brilliant, Stu. If only other people could learn this simple lesson.

Andy Frazer

[Sarah Wides]

How weird - I was on that same hill at that same time of year to fill myself up in some of the same ways you've described right here.

Beautiful photo as always and what an interesting surprise to read words that were so familiar to what and where I was at that same time of year.

Thanks Stu!

p.s. I only wish my dog could walk up that hill with me. Then I would have everything I need.
Wait.
That makes me sound like Steve Martin in The Jerk, doesn't it.
A little?

~ssu

[Jess]

It looks like a phoenix... so lovely.