An Introspective Ramble

I’m the old prospector who never found gold, but fell in love with the wild. My home is out there in the wild, where I discovered quiet.

I don’t claim to know everything, but it is my desire to remain uncertain about a lot of things. This allows me to be more open-minded to the perspectives of others. When I write about the landscape, I focus on the images that I see, or remember, and record how I feel.

Before this blog, I was writing in paper journals. Writing is something I appreciate, even if it were for me. I am trying to write more for my readers. Albeit, this is a record of my life. Even if I don’t write about my life directly, I write about the things that seem to be the most important.

So I focus on wilderness; it seems to influence me most, because the isolation carries such profound meaning, yet it cannot be understood. The wilderness is where I discovered quiet, and I want to become apart of it. I’m lucky to have West Desert Journal to write about the most striking things, like a powerful rainstorm in the middle of nowhere.

For a while I have pondered the idea of being more bold and opinionated in my words, but then, I don’t want to piss people off. There are certain things I could write about that would achieve this type of response. That wouldn’t get me any closer to the quiet things in life. When I was naive, I wrote whatever came to my head. I was so effective that a few individuals referred to me as the next Unabomber! That was offensive, but it made me realize that I had potential. I’m more like a badger who wants to be left alone in his den, until some uninvited predator draws near.

I was born in Salt Lake, but I consider myself a country boy, raised early on in Southern Utah. I’m not quite an Environmentalist, but then I love countering the anti-environmental culture that festers in Southern Utah, especially among ranchers. I have an affinity for the animosity of those old-timers, because they are so rugged and true.

I grew up in cow-towns that were full of spoof cowboys who dressed like them. Then there were the real cowboys who had ranches. I’ve shepherded, but I am far from being the real thing. I stay true to myself, and the red desert that I love to roam.