Heiddegar, Meier and me


On Brigid Meier’s blog here on Word Press, an entry titled Dreaming New Mexico really struck a nerve and I had to comment (well ya, and she commented on my first one too, let’s admit it! blush) So that, and my heartfelt compassion for her, because she made her bread and butter as a Real Estate Agent in Taos. She is also a known and much admired long time Buddhist Practitioner  (I met at many years ago at Naropa). Tonight I felt one of those warm bleeding kinds of compassion. Her blog hadn’t been updated and was so positive and aware, so visually beautiful and inspired… it made me long for New Mexico — again.
Though before the crash, and for that matter while I was growing up using the dough that Dad made, literally building the “town” of Vale with board-feet from his lumber yard– and even (I think, not sure because my mother is so tight lipped and even denies our family histories, and my beautiful Dad is dead) but I  think we owned a share in the of that sad little “town,” Vale.
Though Dad took my adolecent objections seriously (in a conversation driving up to spend a lavish weekend at Vale of course), he poo-pooed my complaints about his part in Vale’s development, “It is not a very pretty place honey, just a bunch of rock. What’s the matter with making some money off of that? We can let the Texans ski there and we’ll go someplace pretty next time.”
I was born in Jackson, Wyoming so we knew the difference between true beauty and Vale. Really, as he explained to me, Vale is just a “subdivision” set in the shadiest part of a narrow canyon, with no view unless you’re on top of the mountain, and it sports some of the most rocky, literally killer downhill runs known to groomed trail skiing. Since that was maybe the most money Dad ever made, via Real Estate, and we both had nothing but contempt for the people who bought those condos,  I had zip zero respect for Real Estate speculators or agents and their clients ever after. That is, aside from the one that helped my lover and I buy a house here in Missoula— which I lost in the no-divorce divorce. Yes, I have owned too. I have been one of those. Not proud of it, but it is true.

But today’s climate, except for the mercenary agents— which amounts to most of them I’m afraid– I feel badly for the humans behind the desk plaques that read AGENT and their names. Actually, I feel badly for everyone out of work. Especially me. Smile. Tell me someone besides builders, who have it worse than print journalist arts writers.


the comment is on this blog: http://brigidsblog.wordpress.com/

simone ellis

NEW MEXICO brigidsblog.wordpress.com/

Map of the new NEW MEXICO-- beautiful colors, beautiful NM

Well, yeah! dreaming New Mexico… this is very relevant, as well as the content of the videos you chose, because (having lived and loved there) New Mexico is a dreamed place, a dreaming place and a place created by collaboration by the Heideggerian Cosmic Club — with all four members present. He lists each as necessary to complete Dwelling, in his book, Poetry Language and Thought.

The first is Earth (at least for me, Earth doesn’t get better than the multicolored 500 mile views in New Mexico, Northern New Mexico where you live, Ms. Meier); then the Horizon (again, ck out the place where earth meets sky and those almost spooky sunsets which stretch from the horizon to your dazzled eye as the Gods (Goddesses were no doubt included in this Pantheon of dwelling’s participation. Here I think he was speaking about the intangible spirited “energy” that we know permeates New Mexico! But is ineffable, however absolutely necessary to Heideggar for this setting to qualify for “dwelling,”; and finally the Mortals–unknown Object X (to borrow from Kant)— Heiddegar assumed it mean exclusively a human beings, but it could be any sentient being aware of death– like an elephant for instance and my dogs.
So, Brigid Meier, thank you for your blog. Thank you for landing in New Mexico. Thank you for doing the paper work as one of the very few enlightened Real Estate Agents, thank you for navigating the freakin banks, and most of all thank you for having a conscious and for advocating sustainable “ownership” of especially THIS land. Or at least that is what I get from your blog.
I am sorry to say I couldn’t afford to live there so had to move away to Montana. I hope you remain. And God –or Goodness– knows that this nasty collapse is being celebrated by the rocks, lizards and dashing rivers! Preservation rarely includes recreation, and just about NEVER includes reclamation or development. I hope you have found something else to do that utilizes your obvious talents and allows you to celebrate the collapse too!
People need to live somewhere but as my beloved part time home, NYC proves, we can be quite happy living on top of each other, layer upon layer upon layer using very little land by Montana standards.
New Mexico’s land market has had the bottom fall out at least five times in its 500 years of Euro history. I said when I left in ’95, giving up my job as art critic for the New Mexican (was I CRAZY? yes, well no, I was in love) that I would return when the the real estate market collapsed. People laughed and those who didn’t know me well, thought I was CRAZY. The collapse happened, and as predicted, I’ll go back there one day, one way or another.
And when I do, I’ll be knocking at your door, Ms. Meier, I admire you.
simone ellis

About SimoneLazzeriEllis

Hello, I am a person in the after post modern world; a poet, author, film maker, & arts journalist by trade. I'm broke. I guess I'm a story teller and observer. The stories are all true, the reviews my best educated guess or rants in the middle of the night or behind a pony wall in a news room. You may disagree with what I say vehemently or not give a shit, or hey maybe awaken me anew with your Imagination and change boh our future-- yeah, I'd dig that-- .
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