April 20, 2014
With the headlamp dressing my head, I propped my feet up on the dashboard, uncapped the ink, and wrote the reflections of my consciousness as we left Moab. It had been a while since I felt the urge to just write.
There is peace in the moment of pure unthought.
You know one of those weekends that you have spent in the sun in the grace of amazing company? It was one of those. The ones that touch the depths of your soul and what you know to be the beauty of this thing called life. This weekend I lived. I breathe. I enjoyed genuine gratification.
There’s still so much that I have to learn in life. No. Not have to, but want to, need to.
Sometimes my thoughts are so heavy. Most of the time in fact. But this weekend lustrated my mind, body, and soul. Sometimes you need a complete severance from the city just to sleep under the stars.
There is something to be said about living in and with the Earth, accumulating as much dirt in every crevice of your known possessions and being. It is like a game to see who can corral the most sand particles, bruises, and gobis. The physical battering of our bodies represents the detoxification of the soul in the simplest of forms. Collecting the black and blue marks as a byproduct of fun whispers the greatest tales, scripting them into our skin’s poetry. These are the moments that alter the perceptions of life.
Sometimes the weight of the world is so heads up and cruel – right in your face. Escaping to the desert and its solitude is the only way to feel again.
So we sat in parking lots, in dirt, at camp, around fire, showing off our dance moves and yoga poses, beers in hand, laughing and smiling as the sun shined down on us, nurturing our souls back to life.
© /skin/ /ˈpōətrē/