Around The Rim Country

IRS lays an egg on Easter Sunday


Talk about your harmonic convergence. When's the last time Easter Sunday has fallen on April 15? The very day we have to settle up with Uncle Sam.

Talk about irony. How often do we have the opportunity for both redemption and ruin on the same day?

Probably about as often as the northern lights make an appearance over the Rim country. For those of you who slept through it, the night sky over Payson turned a deep red when the lights, also known as the aurora borealis, made a once-every-30 years-or-so appearance in these parts.

Actually, a neighbor woke me out of a dead sleep or I would have missed it too. And as little as I like to be rousted out of bed for events astronomical or otherwise, this was one not to be missed.

Since there was no warning it was going to happen, I have to wonder what people thought who got up that night to go to the bathroom and just happened to glance out at that blood-red sky. It's not exactly a moment where you're likely to check your watch and mutter something like, "Gee, I guess the sun is at the peak of its 11-year cycle of sunspot activity again."

A psychic friend has been telling me there is a massive energy shift going on right now that is causing all this weird stuff to happen and making people do strange things. The harmonic convergence of Easter and tax day, plus the appearance of the northern lights over the Rim country seem to be pretty compelling evidence that he's right.

The good news, according to my psychic friend, is that most of us are encased in this protective bubble that emanates in a 15-mile radius from Shoofly Village Indian Ruins off Houston Mesa Road. That should, you would think, keep us safe from the world's insanity during this time of shifting energy.

Why then does it seem that people in the Rim country have been a bit out of sorts the last month or so?

Just look at the outpouring of emotion over the bed, board and booze tax. And I've also noticed Rimaroos doing even-stranger-than-normal things with their shopping carts in the aisles and byways of our supermarkets lately.

But then again I have to wonder if this behavior is truly related to the energy shift. Maybe we're just a strange bunch of people most all the time.

Or and here's a frightening thought maybe we're acting these ways because of the pressure of living in a bubble. I mean, what happens when you enter and leave the bubble?

Do your ears pop? What happens when we use up all the oxygen?

You also have to wonder if the fact that we are encased in a protective bubble means Rimaroos are some kind of chosen people? Or is every two-bit psychic in every town around the world telling people they are protected by a 15-mile bubble radiating out from Ernie's Used Car Lot or the Swap 'n Shop Meet out on the old highway? Because if this is unique to us, then maybe we need to market it. Look how Sedona has milked that vortex thing.

How many tons of crystals and Mackinac

Island fudge have they sold to people coming up there to bask in positive energy? What a great gimmick vortexes have been for them.

When I first moved here five years ago, I was told we had more and better vortexes than Sedona. But this bubble thing if it truly belongs to us and us alone has much more potential than Sedona's vortexes.

Think of the marketing possibilities: "Join us in our protective bubble." "The Rim country: where a roof over your head takes on a whole new meaning." "The Rim country: we've got you covered."

At last we can dump that dippy slogan, "The heart of Arizona." If "The bubble of Arizona" doesn't do it for you, how about simply "Bubble Country." Or maybe "The womb of Arizona."

Fortunately in the midst of all this weirdness, it is also springtime. No matter how strange things may get, there's nothing like a Rim country spring to remind us that all is well in the world and everything is in its rightful place.

Warm days. Brisk nights. A carpet of tiny purple, pink and white flowers throughout the forest.

At this time of renewal and rebirth, of new hope and faith, a little communion with nature is all it takes to make you forget all the weirdness caused by shifting energy and maybe even the fact that your wallet has just been lightened considerably to fund the next round of federal pork barrel projects.

Of course there's nothing wrong with pork if it's in our own back yard, say a multi-million dollar study of how to turn juniper berries into a commercially viable product, the riches from which we could all share.

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