Dispatches from the World
Einstein argued that “everything in life is vibration.” String theory proposes that everything we see as matter is actually vibration in loops of string, each with its own frequency. It’s quite a beautiful thought, if you imagine the pluck of a string on an instrument initiating a vibration that exists forever, and each of us is nothing but a musical note resonating— sometimes in harmony, sometimes in dissonance— with all of the other notes around us.
My exploration of West Texas had me thinking about the unique vibrations of place. I live in a place considered by many to be an energy vortex, with ley lines running through it. Mention “ley lines” to anyone in my hometown of Wimberley, Texas, and they’re likely to reply with something like, “Oh yeah, of course.” Technically, these are geographical lines that connect significant spiritual or cultural places around the world. But many believe the lines also carry energy, or good vibes. Just as the frequencies of vibrations within our bodies can manifest health or disease, peace or conflict, good moods or bad, it makes sense (to me, at least) that places carry the energy of the people, stories, and events that have existed in them throughout time. And cyclically, the vibes of any place can then manifest within the people and events to come.
As we worked our way from the “ghost town” of Terlingua, to Marathon, to Alpine, to Marfa, the difference in the feeling of each was undeniable. It’s like meeting new people at a party—you usually get a vibe from each one, if you’re paying attention. You might sense negativity, or phoniness, or a magnetic warmth that makes you want to be around that person again. Here’s my take on the vibes I encountered at this West Texas party… Terlingua was the seemingly closed-off but poised, confident, and wise woman at the party. I didn’t dislike her, but I wasn’t sure how to strike up a conversation. After just a little time, I decided she isn’t closed-off; she just has no need to impress… or to engage unless you want to quietly, thoughtfully engage with her. And when you do, you could probably learn a lot.
Alpine was a grumpy, set-in-his-ways old man. The kind that makes you wonder why he even came to the party. I tried to politely ask questions—find out his history and what he was really about— but he gave me and my questions a funny look and made me feel uncomfortable.
Marfa was the artist, plain and clear. She cares about beauty. She appreciates good food. Talking to her lifted me up. I didn’t go deep with her, so I could be wrong. She might be pretentious or narcissistic. I’m just saying she was fun.
Marathon didn’t put on any airs. You could tell he doesn’t go to a lot of parties but was happy and humbled to be there. No small talk with him, which made me feel at ease.
My takeaway from this place-energy exploration was that the best way to enjoy a harmonious, albeit brief, relationship with each place was to observe, feel, and respect each for its particular frequency. Just as with humans, expectation— or the desire for someone to vibrate at the level we wished they would—is sure to disappoint. The fun of travel is that we’re not in a committed relationship. We can move from place to place, just listening to the unique songs each one hums.
Edited selection is from “A Tail of Grace: A Year in Search of Home after the Death of My Soul-Dog.”
In this collection, published in 2023, Ashley Brown takes readers with her on a year-long journey devoted to grieving the loss of her soul-dog, to listen, learn, and look for home within herself without her constant companion. It is available on Amazon and at www.ashleyauthor. com.
