The Colorado flows past the Rincon, but doesn’t visit anymore…the ancient course of meandering water, now a dry monument, hovering in the wings of the river’s stage, awaiting a global shift or a rising sea to rejoin the show at center stage.
Dark silhouettes define a path of aversion…Steering clear of those places through which light may not penetrate, we look toward the horizon and the backdrop provided by the vanishing light of day, a narrowing line of color as the terminator advances west and shadows rise to meet the descending darkness…A moment of illumination from within the dark vaporous matter betrays the energy hidden within.
From Bears Ears, we follow canyon paths and riverbeds deep into Monument Valley, pursuing the way…every contour tells a story of this holy land, conveying a sense that this is among the thinnest of places on earth, a place where earth’s spirit radiates, overwhelming our senses as we breath it in.
Above the wilderness of Yosemite, the green of our summer, consumed by wildfire, rises in hot columns of white hot smoke and ash as if a living being were reverting to its basest elements…carbon particles adrift on the breeze, coloring the atmosphere, returning to the heavens.
Light washes away Earth’s contours while shadows create dimension and darkness creates depth…The give and take, the balance of light and shadow, gives shape and vibrance to our illusion.
From a distance, we see the chasm as a void containing an unfordable stream…but look closer…in the depths of this abyss, we find small bridges and hidden pathways…small opportunities to bridge the divides that separate us from one another. Graceful temples inclining toward the plateau above, inspiring our motion and bringing a sense of solace to our wandering souls.
The beautiful isolation and drama of a desert storm…filling the space in between mountains…vaporous columns in the arid sky…layers of detail and hidden treasures…rain showers and rainbows hidden beneath the rolling storm.
As we watch an enormous storm push its way over Dinosaur National Park, we contemplate the parallel between the shape of the landscape and the motion of the weather. Whether water flows over the earth, shaping the landscape or above the earth, shaping the heavens, the motion follows invisible curves defined by cyclonic forces and the distribution of pressure in and around the globe…when there is a high, there is also a low…when there is rain, there is also drought…not in opposition, but in a greater sense of balance where mass and energy are conserved across changing states, temperature and pressure deviations, and the unbalancing effects of industrialization.
As we pass this way, one truth is evident…All things are ephemeral and our experiences are shaped by the manner in which we interpret the fleeting signs of our existence…Do we look upon the smoke clouds of a wildfire and wallow in our loss, or do we rejoice at the release of energy to be absorbed once again into the ether? In human terms, we will always limit ourselves with our emotions, yet those same emotions are the wellspring of the soul and lead us to rejoice in indefinable feelings that we experience as day overtakes night, light overtakes darkness, and love overtakes hatred.
A thin blue line is cuts across the Mojave Desert, water traversing an arid landscape, a narrowly drawn memory of the fluid motion of a landlocked sea.