This has been a year of challenge but not a year of inaction. Despite our plans at the beginning of the year being abruptly disrupted by many circumstances out of our control, we’ve managed to not only shift that disappointment into gratitude but to continue down this path without expectation or any idea whatsoever as to where it might lead.
We have entered the matrix of the winding and wonderful desert plateau, sun baked and full of energy, one with the earth and one with each other. We are sun kissed and scorched as we cross over, through the doors of perception.
Following the footsteps of the ancient cultures that dwelled here long before us, is one of the most fascinating learning experiences. From our home in the four corners, to the very edges of Lake powell, stretching north into the fish lake national forest. We follow the remnants of ancient civilization, from cliff dwellings to kivas, fragments of pottery to stone tools and petroglyphs. There is so much history hidden throughout this vast desert terrain. The winds finally pushed us down a scenic route to Central Utah in a valley surrounded by the fish lake national forest, to the Fremont Indian State Park.
There are hidden worlds in everything.
We open the doors, opening ourselves.
To the beauty that sits quietly, vibrating loudly.
We sink our weary limbs far beneath the surface.
Of life. Of love. Of time.
We fold gently like ripples, we quiver, we break.
Converging as one, one flow, one love.
Mystic as the waters
There is magic hidden in the desert oasis. The Henries faded in the rear view mirror, an isolated mountain range as tall as 11,522 ft, towering over the lower desert plateau. A network of deep rutted canyons and winding washes, carved scars on the desert surface, zigzagging their way down to the very edges of the Waterpocket Fold, around and down feeding into Lake Powell.
Northeast of Moab on Scenic Byway 128 the Colorado River flows through the meandering canyon as it channels its’ way down to Canyonlands National Park, meeting up with the Green River from the North. We have been following and tracing the course of the Colorado for the last few years as it rushes from the Rocky Mountains National Park to the South Eastern edges of Lake Mead National Recreation Area. Humbly always watching in awe as thousands of miles of river carve ancient canyons, dramatically distorting the landscape. We have seen beginning to end, forward and reverse from hundreds of perspectives. From white capped, rushing snow melt to stained red sandstone sediment, it endlessly changes shape, form and identity. Constantly flowing, constantly providing life across the Western Plateau.