The Fly on my Shoulder

"When I stop struggling, I float.
It's the law."
Unknown

Several hours early on the way to the airport in Albuquerque, I saw a sign for the Cochiti Lake Recreation Area.  Feeling curious, my car seemed to head there with little thought or redirection from my brain. 

Not really knowing how far from the highway I was headed, I followed a bumpy road at 35 miles an hour to the overlook, where a breathtaking view of red rock mountains on one side, dusty plains on the other and a placid lake below was waiting. 

I pulled on my jacket to protect me from the biting wind, and found a flat rock surrounded by cacti.  Sitting with the sun on face, I soaked in the space, and then closed my eyes to meditate- only to be interrupted by a vexatious buzz in my ears.
Crazily, I swatted the fly away, only for him to return, circling my face incessantly.  The whir of his irksome voice mocked me as I waved my hands like a mad woman, but he was persistent and returned again and again.

So, I decided to get very still.
And the fly sat on my shoulder
and we watched  a hiding vulture fly away,
and rooted for the hopeful fisherman in the lake below
And dreamed of climbing the statuesque mountains in the horizon.
And we breathed together
peacefully.