The ability to judge distance is not the only
confusion the desert has to offer. Here,
the rugged mountains seem fairly close,
but it is a trick of perspective, a trick of light
and shadow. You need not meditate to find
a sense of euphoria here. You need
only let the heat do what it does.
What is selfishness in the desert? What is
generosity? Do such abstractions stand up
to the cactus? The desert wind is always
threatening to erase everything, even the soul.
I came out to the desert to think, which is
another way of me saying I needed to feel again.
I needed to remember. Some find solace in
the snow-covered plains of the Sierras.
Others find it on a beach where clouds reveal
their hieroglyphics. I come to a place like this.
I needed to remember. I needed to find myself.
As my dead grandmother said to me in a dream
where she was knitting me a sweater: “Please child,
remember what you are, remember who you are.”
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