Well, then. I finally missed a week of blogging. Let me explain (or make an excuse): There have a been a few changes at work, and I’ve been fairly busy with the transition. The days have been flying by and my brain has been just a bit exhausted.
With this increased level of mental exhaustion, I am reminded that it is very important to care for myself emotionally. Last week’s workload warranted a cleansing trip to Joshua Tree for some much needed escape from society – some time in the desert to clear my head, purify my soul; to meditate, to take a peaceful walk and just be.
Once more, I sat atop a boulder, in the midst of a vast expanse of glorious desert, and took note of my observations. From Saturday night:
We have outcast ourselves from the tourist campers – they with fires burning and cumbersome canopies; chairs and tents tall enough to stand in; bringing with them too much of what my being needs to be away from. We find our own quiet piece of desert behind an outcropping of jumbled granite boulders. We sip boxed wine out of a titanium cup and watch quietly as the moon ascends toward the heavens, basked in a soft glow, masking the stars we know are lurking beneath. The moon is ringed by a phenomenal contrasting halo, a ring that continues to grow and transform as this majestic orb journeys across the sky. The stars begin to emerge, peacefully and calmly alighting in the sky as if turned on one by one.
My companion tells me stories of math and science and history. The moon’s luminance continues to grow and the ring continues to transform; a perfect display of nature’s splendor. The sky is streaked with remnants of the daytime — wisps of clouds, contrails evidencing local flight paths drifting through the moonlight. There is so much beauty surrounding us. The air is calm. The cicadas carry on in their eternal praises to their maker. The desert lives and buzzes and rests all at once. We are surrounded by what can only be described as large. Not foreboding, but most certainly majestic, breathtaking and inspiring.
I am at peace here. Tonight I share that peace with someone close to me. I can feel the power of this place in my bones, permeating my soul and allowing my heart to be restored. My tired self is awakened and refreshed. Tomorrow I can go on, back to my busy world, back to obligations that are now opportunities. My heart may be broken from loss and grief, but I can fill the empty spaces with the wonder of nature, with peace and with the warmth of sharing this special place and these moments.
Later, we notice on the ground before us, one tiny ant carrying another dead ant. Why? Are they having an ant funeral? I laugh. I take a drink and I see my reflection in the bottom of the titanium cup. I have so much to be thankful for.
I have so much.