The desert has a way of speaking to the soul; perhaps it’s the vast open spaces mirroring our deepest fears of being alone, the infinite spaces of silence and stillness which bring about a slight irking feeling, a feeling that you can’t seem to shake because it’s the same exact silence and stillness of your own soul; or perhaps it’s the night’s blanket of bright, bright stars that gently wraps your most inner being with infinite light and love, the cosmic connection reaching the very canyons of your bones. The desert echoes its soft music, inviting the desert flowers to radiant with color and breath, the same radiance found within, creating a most harmonious dance indeed.
The desert has a way of speaking to the soul; the sun beats down on the earth, dries it up and cracks it open— bare, and exposed, and vulnerable. The wounds invite questions, but offer no answers. They contain so much of the mystery and the magic, the healing and the growing; they are the memory of the past and the catalyst for the future. The desert reminds us that its wounds are our wounds too.
Thank you, Joshua Tree, for speaking to my soul this past weekend. I assure you that my first visit will definitely not be my last. Until then, much gratitude and love to you.