Nathan Arizona

An End to the Occupation

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In my waking life, I move about like everybody else. I hear the constant sounds of reality, but my mind is somewhere else. My hopes are on a higher plane, like the lonesome eagle gliding on the wind. Feeling very content, I can safely say that the world needs a change. With all the loud things that plug up everyday life, severe isolation tends to be very enticing to me. My dreams cannot compete with the current trends of this society. I am here, but I am not really here. It is more like I am praying for the current …

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Just a Ramble

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I’m just happy today, for no real particular reason? Maybe things are changing here in the desert. There was still a cricket singing this morning, in November. This I could get used to, being at 2000 feet above sea level, in an ocean of red sandstone. Saint George has got the worst traffic in the state, but it is not a bad little community. For work, I’ve been taking tickets at all the basketball games over at the Burns Arena. I’ll be doing this unless I get the job at the gift shop. Last night, I was feeling restless. I …

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Nate the Lonesome Critter

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I may be working in a tourist trap of a turquoise outlet pretty soon. The big cheese came closer to hiring me today. It is a decent atmosphere to work in. Chimes ring, native flute music plays in the background, and the roaring traffic of Saint George looms outside. I’m talking to the manager, just getting to know him one on one. I spoke with one of the fellow employees too. It turns out that she likes to rock-hound a lot. Neat! Anyways, I’ll see what happens. This will definitely beat the Lowe’s job I had before, where they were …

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Unplugging My Life

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I am getting burned out on college life, though it is something I don’t mind. Knowing that my mom and dad read this blog, I am going to be careful about what I say. That is why I have an anonymous blog. I love my parents, but at the same time, I like some privacy. I need a change. Maybe I’ll do some sheep herding this summer? When lambing season starts next spring, I may call the Burtons in Parowan and ask for some work… THINGS ARE MUNDANE, so I’m looking for interesting things to do. I’m looking for work …

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The Constant Rain

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The rain pelts the ground I hear the drum beat, the rattles I see the landscape drinking the moisture I hear the birds singing The billowing clouds are beautiful Thunder shakes the land the constant rain purifies An old man lets the rain soak his frail body Warm summer freshness Delightful!

Ghost Stranger

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The horned creature draws near His eyes sockets are filled with dust. Something dashes through through the trees, laughing The visitor has come. The painted female and male are holding hands. The thunderbird dances. The images are animating. The pinions grow exceptionally thick. The dead are visible from other dimensions. The crickets chant. Fearless whispers draw near. Harrowing creatures wallow close. I hear the creek sifting the ancient rocks. The horned one is looking at me. Dust filled eye sockets.

Edge of Silence

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Little painted creatures crawl down dark canyon walls. The creek is trickling. Crickets hum. The tower of stars ignite. Deep twinkling universe erases time, and fills empty space with the ages. Long ago, little people came here, passed through here, and their spirit remains. Images dance across the stone panels. The visions are possessive, intoxicating. At night, during sleep paranormal entities speak of long ago. I dream of a Pinion skeleton against hard turquoise sky… …I think of a lone coyote shrouded by night, cut off from the pack. I’m glaring into the campfire, thinking that he may come into …

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Sudden Changes

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It felt like summer again, here in Saint George. Last night it was real mild. I’m heading north this weekend to spend some time with my grandparents. Last night I drove west of Saint George, into Nevada again, just to go see some Joshua Trees out there. Man is it an amazing lost world. There is so much beauty, The highway cuts through the desert, but it still feels primordials. At home last night, I did some writing on my computer, and ate Pinion Nuts while enjoying the late night warmth. It is the middle of October and feels like …

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Walls of Existence

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When I speak of tearing down the walls of existence, I mean in a peaceful and non-violent way. An individual can also tear down the walls of their own Existence. On the large scale, I want to change the culture that surrounds me; either that, or abandon it entirely. I believe what Ghandi said, that no conflict could be justified, even if it was for a good cause. So my passionate cause would have to be a peaceful revolution. I just don’t understand why some have the desire to inflict harm on others? And how some countries have an arrogant …

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The Winter Moon

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I can feel the winter snows getting ready to visit the high desert. I’m down at 2000 feet so I don’t have worry. Winter’s not a bad time to move about though. There’s nothing better then hiking through fresh snow under a full moon. I remember doing that a few years ago up on the mountain, over by Duck Creek. It was frigid, but beautiful. The forest was blanketed with dense white that glowed silver. Other then that, I am expecting to see some magnificent thunder storms invade the red rock canyons. They usually come until mid November. That might …

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Ghost Piano

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I can smell the rotting wood floor, warped by a hundred years. The roof of the skeleton is still up, but a whole corner of the building is caved in. Bats hang in the corners, mice scurry underneath. I lift up some rusty sheet metal and a kangaroo rat darts blindly into the desert. The wind beats the old building and it creaks and groans with pain. A tumble weed runs through the center of town. There?s no humans here, no cars, but mine. Off in the distance bone colored mountains dance on the surface. There are no clouds in …

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Absolute Silence

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There was an old man up there on the mountains near New Harmony. He had a long white beard, was missing a few teeth, but had the deepest gaze of any human being. He wouldn?t say a word, but he would wave, smile, and continue on in his routine. He lived in a parked trailer near the edge of a creek, and drove around in an old Chevy caked in mud. I never had the courage to go visit him, but he soon disappeared and I never saw him again. That canyon is now empty and quiet. When I go …

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Edward Abbey

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Another person to educate your self about is Edward Abbey, a father to the Environmental Movement. I’ve read his books Desert Solitaire, and The Monkey Wrench Gang. Both demonstrate Edward’s intense love for the wilderness, but they also expose his racism towards Indigenous People, and his view that the wilderness was “untouched.” After reading these two books though, I feel that Cactus Ed was more then just some rugged individualist. They say he offended everybody, but the truth is, there’s no excuse for racism, bigotry, or intolerance. To the oppressive and colonial powers, and to Manifest Destiny, it sure must …

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Pristine Wilderness

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Tonight’s post is a little off on a tangent. But it deals with the false notion of Pristine Wilderness. First of all, educate yourself about who Michael Fatali is, and what he supposedly did in “vandalizing” the Delicate Arch here in Utah. I posted the following response on a thread over at http://photo.net/ – Think of this… The American Government desecrated Glen Canyon when they created Lake Powell. When they damned the Colorado river, in many TRUE aspects, they were “vandalizing” the canyon… Sorry people, I just don’t believe in a pristine wilderness. Michael Fatali made a mistake, but the …

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Above Navajo Lake

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The gnarly bristlecone stands mighty on the rocky ledge beneath tremendous, galactic clouds. The clouds are merging into a great mother ship descending upon the high country. Beneath the ridge grow vast isolated groves of Aspen, patched with sprawling open meadows; the rest of the landscape is covered in old timber, and within certain areas, has been attacked by the bark beetle. If you visit places like Brian Head, twenty miles east, it looks like a cemetary of trees. Down the backside of this ridge, nestled in a small mountain valley is the natural forming, Navajo Lake. It?s a slender, …

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The Crossing

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The mountains are calling you brother Come, they are waiting. Come, there is a secret waiting. You must go to the crossing A child in dream visits the mountains converses with bears. There is no fear. Voices dance in shadows, deep below luminous peaks beneath the candled skies. Yonder the little mountain people dance they dance and glow. In the dark earth they weave their cobwebs. Come, says the the wailing wind.

The Daydream

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In a classroom, the professor’s voice becomes background interference. My mind is somewhere on the landscape, far off in the Great Basin of Nevada. Those big cities become ghost towns. Wind and dust pass through the shattered windows of empty skyscrapers. There’s no electricity anywhere, except for one buzzing radio sucking on its last drop of current. The storm grows enormous, sweeping across the landscape, causing everything to disappear. I’m dreaming of the deepness of rivers, and skeletons moving through the darkness of night. Sand is blowing from the dunes in summer. The Ocean’s flooding the coastlines. Hurricanes and tornadoes …

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What An Evening

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Someone rear ended me in Saint George, tonight. I don’t blame them though; they are victims in a way. The driving culture of Southern Utah is chaotic. Too many people in a hurry is the problem. It’s the dysfunctional fast lane society that we are all plugged into. The lady got a citation for following too close. My new vehicle is a 2005 Dodge Neon, maroon colored. So, I am going to need a new bumper.

Undying Moments of Quiet

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I?m at the point in my life where I want to relax, and drop all material things. But I am plugged in. There?s no escape. There are those few quiet moments where I can see the cottonwoods bending in the wind, waving their mountainous branches. Or I can let the cold wind blow against my face on a late summer evening, sitting on the ledge of a sandstone cliff. I pull out of the fast lane for a few moments of intense silence, and remember when times were not so rushed, when I was innocent. My dream is in those …

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The Wanderlust Grows

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The wanderlust returns? For now though, I am enjoying my schooling in Saint George. I am home in Southern Utah. I think I have found my niche in the arts. For the first time this semester I am taking art classes at the beginning level: oil painting, watercolor, and drawing; except for advanced photography. These classes are giving me instruction in areas where my talents are now being challenged. An oil painting class at the beginning level is a struggle. Yet today, I was painting and noticed that everything was falling into place. I had my own style. It actually …

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Everett Ruess Days

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This looks like this is right up my alley, I’m going to it! I have a lot of respect for Mr. Everett Ruess. I read his wilderness journals a few times, after a close relative recommended his writings to me. In all honesty, I have to give credit to Everett for being a major inspiration, and role model. I share a lot of affinity with his ideas, and his outlook! Plus, he ventured into the same wilderness that I love so much. He heard the wilderness calling him. If you hear it calling, BEWARE! At the age of twenty, Everett …

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It is in Me

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It is windy tonight. The fiery sun sinks into the mountains of burnished slopes. Stars flood the heavens deep. The canyon voice whips through the Pinion and Juniper. The basin below is cold and dusty. The mountains are singing all night. Come to me, say the mountains, travel far into the wild where the unknown waits. The Tree Man will care for you… It is in me. I’m walking through a deep forest, of gigantic pines. I can see myself moving about in the dream. I’m a tree. My arms are branches. My feet are the roots. I grow tall …

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Shadows of the Land

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I am leaving home to be with the wild, the wind. I am leaving my comfort for the darkness of the earth and sky. Deep starry nights are singing. The desert is calling. There’s patience in my planning, but the time draws near. No one understands the mysteries of the world, or why the heavens weep. No one really sees the hidden mysteries. You have to drop the weight that drags you down. There is only one way to dream. The desert is calling. The land is going to tranform. The old way lives in my heart. My spirit is …

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Reminding Myself

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In those sleeping hills time does not exist. When I’m in isolation, I’m alone within the corners of God’s imagination. Below the shifting sand, I ponder previous worlds wherein mankind went absolutely crazy, and vanished. I think of the wide gaping mouth of the Grand Canyon in Arizona and the many quiet places still remaining in this world of bus and computer. But man is becoming evermore crazy. A mystery is drawing nearer, but remains patient. A thunderstorm brings the roaring rain upon housetops. Thunder reverberates through ancient canyons. Unknown rivers flow down unknown channels. This is the constant vision …

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Camping in Glen Canyon

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Deep cliff shadows engulf the canyon. Softened sunlight fades. Darkness comes quick. After a windy evening storm I push my feet in wet sand and listen to storm-provoked waves of Lake Powell crashing in the darkness Bats chase moths around the kerosene lamp. An owl hoots from Cottonwood skeletons. I’m 50 miles from any town trapped in Glen Canyon’s heart. The only way out is a boat. I feel the restless waters of the Colorado River wanting to burst. The lake whispers!

Using WordPress Now

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Well, I am going to try WordPress for a while and see if I like it! Earlier today, I imported all my entries from my Movable Type blog. I still have my Movable Type installation. I?ve spent the better part of this day, trying to figure out how to use WordPress. Things have been pretty chaotic, but the more I learn and become familiar, the easier this will be. The reason for switching over to WordPress is because there are more free templates available, it is open source software, and I like the many plug-ins available! Also I might be …

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Tsosie

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I sheep herded a few years back and worked for Burtons Livestock, out of Parowan, Utah. I couldn’t wait for lambing season to be over, to move the sheep up on the mountain. For a couple of weeks, I could enjoy the aspen and pine before my job was done. The nights spent up there were always magnificent; a billion stars lit the sky, and the pines sung like rivers. I worked with and enjoyed the company of my friend, Tsosie, a 67 year old Navajo sheepherder. It’s been a few years since I last spoke with him. He had …

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The Survivor

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A soft spoken meadowlark moves from a fence post, up into a Blue Spruce… This spruce is growing in the desert! It doesn’t look like other steepled evergreens. It’s all bent out of shape growing right up from the sage. It stands alone. Where’s the others? Hmm…

An Introspective Ramble

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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 …

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Farewell, Old Flagstaff Town

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In my sleep, I heard the wind softly whispering through the bedroom window all night. The mountain air moved about the bedroom walls, flapping the posters, shaking the window blinds. As the sun came up in the east, the soft rays came through the window and painted the bedroom wall. Last night, I slept on the urgency to leave Flagstaff. I don’t really want to leave this town, this dream. Flagstaff has become home. But the larger southwest is my home, from low desert, to the ponderosa highlands. My home is where giant thunderclouds sweep the dry desert with curtains …

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