even at my happiest, there is always that little seed of sadness that is rooted down in the farthest reaches of my self. it is my assumption that this is universal–jungians would call it shadow, christians may say it is a symbol of “the fall”. no matter the name of this flora, it is always there, providing balance and counterpoint.
while driving through the utah/nevada/california desert the other day, the heat reached at least 104*F; the perfect time to turn off the air conditioner, roll down the window and let the dry desert heat soak down into the deepest parts of me permeating first through my skin, warming my muscles and bones, and bringing my core to a temperature that just seems to make sense: desert warm.
the desert is not where i am from, the midwestern united states looks very little like the semi-arid to arid vistas one finds around the world…and yet this foreign landscape calls to me. the warm breath of the spare breathing and living landscape beckons me nearer, to learn what secrets she holds.
it is my pleasure to listen to, and succumb to this purifying heat.