The Spirit of Palm Springs

The San Jacinto Mountains protect Palm Springs from the rain clouds drifting slowly in the air above the Pacific Ocean towards the western part of the United States.  The burning summers are dry and the mild winters are seldom wet in the city of hot wells.  Yet,  if you want to build a snowman with your children or are just in the mood for a hike on the trails of the highland to feel the white crunching present from Zeus under your feet,  you don’t have to go too far.  You may ride a tram from the valley at the edge of the city, and, within twenty minutes,  you’ll find yourself closer to the mountain peaks and the spirits of the people who once worshipped the gods of nature in this part America.

Far back in the past only Native Americans lived on this land.  They spent the colder months at the hot springs,  where they found protection from the chilly winds.  As the weather warmed up,  they moved to the canyons where the melting snow from the hilltops swelled the creeks.  The crystal clear water turned a narrow strip of the rocky desert into an oasis which was inhabited with life.  Birds made their nests in the crowns of the palm trees and their songs soared over the surroundings.  The splashing voice of the brook enticed the thirsty animals from a great distance.  Some of them found their last day on the way to the rivulet.  They became the prey of lurking coyotes, howling with bloody pleasure on their faces after they caught their victims.  Why do we hate those snarling predators and feel sorry for the bleeding rabbits and other quarries? 

We know very well they are only part of the food chain and they are just following the rules of nature,  day after day.  Yet our instincts,  imprinted with the terror of our ancestors who were the puppets of the elements and the animals from the beginning of  humankind’s history,  tell us,  in spite of being members of the human race blessed with a thinking brain,  we are not always safe.  So,  when we hear those murderous laughs of coyotes in the darkling night,  our souls fill with fear and our hearts beat fast.  Let’s forget about those frightful times and enjoy the rising sun’s light.

In the early morning only one man was walking along the creek;  he was hiking uphill on the trail of the oasis.  As the hiker reached to the top of the rocky hill he stopped to rest a little bit and turned around to look at the valley.  The tired man was mesmerized by the sight before his eyes.  He started to croon in a language unknown to him.  A sad song broke out of his throat as the spirits of the place took over his soul. 

After a while the lonely hiker sat down on a large stone;  he was quiet.  He felt relieved of the pain that rent his heart for many days and nights,  since his wife left him for the love of another man.  It was Christmas Day,  and Paul’s fifty-eighth birthday.  He  was married to his wife almost forty years and he was still in love with her despite her unfaithfulness.  The night before Paul called his son from the hotel to wish him happy holidays.  He found out from Marco that Nina,  his wife,  was in Florida with her boyfriend.  The thought that she was walking on the sandy beach and lying between soft sheets with another man made him very jealous.  His heart ached with pain;  he didn’t understand why all these tormenting events happened.  Why did she leave him?  Didn’t she feel how much he loved her?  The questions gnawed Paul’s mind.  As he was searching for answers his broken soul blamed himself for the long working days he spent at his company

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