Through the canyon

Last week, I spent several days hiking through the Needles district of Canyonlands National Park in Utah. It was hot (clear, sunny, 70+ degrees) and wide open, as one expects the desert to be. This was my first backpacking trip in the desert, and probably the last. I'm not built for it. But while I was there, I saw some spectacular views, listened intently to the deafening silence, and breathed deeply enough to clear out any bad juju I had been carrying along with me until then.

One foot in front of the other is the best form of therapy for a gal like me. It's my chance to step outside the words, structured sentences, carefully constructed paragraphs and meticulously placed semi-colons. I step one foot and then the other outside each syllable, and replace it with something a little more... organic. I find something uniquely comforting about the deep reflection that comes when words are set aside. I didn't go to the desert to think. I went into the desert to be.

Far from home, I often find myself. It's the journey back that is the most difficult, as exhaustion sets in and I sometimes feel overcome by the urgency to return to the rest of the life I left behind. But, it's all my life. It's all my life, and most days I'm glad to set foot in any part of it.