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Standing

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I know a man who never moved. Grew in the same place for multiple human lives…

Arms raised since before the Spanish came through, before the Hohokam left their marks on the canyon stone.

He doesn’t explain himself, because he has no voice and no mouth to tell the story…

The wren built a home in his left side and he said nothing. The hawk used his shoulder for thirty seasons and he never complained.

I’ve seen him at dawn when the Sonoran turns pink and the quail move through the brush like little thoughts you can’t quite hold.

He was there.

He’ll be there when I’m not..

That’s the thing about the desert. It doesn’t need your witness and was here before you. But it will let you watch if you’re quiet enough.

Braffits Creek, A Thread in the Great Basin

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Braffits Creek is a thin green thread stitched into a country most people only know from the airplane window; a wash of brown and sage and distance. Up close, the place smells like dust warming in the sun, like willow leaves and wet stone, like something living quietly where life isn’t supposed to be. The water doesn’t boast. It moves with the patience of old stories, slipping past cottonwood roots and basalt bones, keeping its voice low.

The thing about the Great Basin is this:

it doesn’t drain to any ocean.

Everything stays.

Water falls as snow or rain, wanders awhile through creeks like Braffits, sinks into alkali flats or vanishes into salt, and never leaves. The land is a bowl that keeps its memories. You feel that weight when you’re there, the silence isn’t empty, it’s layered. A long geologic listening.

And the West Desert, that vast sweep of basin-and-range country stretching from the Wasatch front out toward Nevada, might be one of the loneliest geographies in North America. Not dramatic like Zion or Yosemite. Not photogenic in ways that feed the calendars. It’s slow land. Subtle land. A place where your mind stops shouting because there’s nothing to shout over. Where a single pickup passing on a distant dirt road becomes an event.

In spaces like that, scale becomes a teacher.

A single creek, narrow enough to step across in places, becomes a world. Grass gathers. Birds arrive. Insects hum. Deer print the mud. The line between survival and emptiness is as small as the line of water itself. You start to understand why the desert holds meaning the way it does: because life here is never guaranteed.

Braffits Creek feels like a nerve running through the land. Touch it, and something deeper responds.

For those who carry personal history into a place like that, questions, griefs, hopes, half-formed prayers, the silence doesn’t echo back so much as absorb. You’re left with a sense that the land heard you, and the water carried the moment a little farther downstream where it could rest with the others. You don’t need to explain it. The desert doesn’t ask for an explanation. It just asks you to tell the truth and stand still long enough to hear yourself breathe.

And so the Great Basin remains, a country of long roads and few people, of military ranges and forgotten towns, of playas that shine like mirrors after rare storms. A place our culture has often written off as wasteland. Yet hidden in it are small green seams like Braffits Creek, where the world remembers how to whisper.

Some places don’t shout their importance.

They don’t advertise themselves.

They simply wait for the right pair of feet to walk beside them, the right pair of hands to cup the water, the right heart to recognize that even the quietest landscapes are full of witnesses.

And once that happens, the map of the world changes; not on paper, but inside you and the West Desert is never just empty again.

Related: About this Desert Rat | My 44 Year Old Hands

My 44 Year Old Hands

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25 years this blog has weathered space and time and it was offline for a couple years with no backup. Thanks to an older backup XML file and the Wayback Machine, I’ve been able to restore the original journal that spans a quarter century of my life. This poem is a time warp from the poem I wrote, which is in the archives, titled: My 22 Year Old Hands…

My 44 Year Old Hands

These are my 44-year-old hands.

Desert hands.

Sun-cured. Split. Salted with years.

They don’t move fast anymore,

but they move like water in a dry wash —

only when it matters.

There are canyons in the knuckles now,

thin arroyo lines where old grief carved through

and never quite washed smooth.

The bones creak like truck springs on a washboard road.

Weather talks through them.

These hands have gripped a steering wheel at 2 a.m.,

held a camera like a compass,

picked through rusted towns and shuttered doors,

lifted stones just to see what lives beneath.

They’ve bled on sandstone.

They’ve shaken with anger and mercy.

They’ve held people like fragile relics

and buried things that never came back.

I don’t use them to reach for everything anymore.

The desert taught them restraint —

you carry only what you need

or the road strips you clean.

Now they know the feel of wind,

of heat that hums in metal,

of prayers sent up with dust devils

instead of pews.

My 44-year-old hands aren’t pretty.

They’re honest.

They tremble less from wanting

and more from remembering.

And when I finally lay them down —

sand-cold, still,

done —

I hope the earth knows them,

like a long-lost stone

rolled back into its riverbed,

and trusts

that they tried to hold this world

without breaking it.

by Nathan Arizona

Related: Braffits Creek, A Thread in the Great Basin | Sonoran Spring with the White Wings

Sonoran Spring with the White Wings

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The White-Winged Sonoran Spring
By Nathan Cowlishaw

In the desert sun, where the cacti grow,
And the winds of change, forever blow,
The White-Winged Doves, they come to know,
The secrets of nature, that ebb and flow.
Their wings a blur, as they take flight,
A symphony of grace, in the morning light,
Their destination clear, and in sight,
To pollinate the saguaros, with all their might.
They land on the spines, with a gentle touch,
Their feathers ablaze, with the desert’s hush,
And as they work, it’s almost too much,
The beauty of nature, a sacred crutch.
Their beaks dip in, to the nectar’s hold,
A moment of bliss, in the desert’s gold,
And as they feed, their love unfolds,
A dance of life, that never grows old.
The chicks will come, in due time,
Their parents’ care, a rhythm divine,
And as they grow, they’ll learn to climb,
The cacti’s heights, a scene so sublime.
The White-Winged Doves, they’ll stay a while,
And in their stay, the desert’s smile,
For they bring life, with every mile,
A gift from above, that’s worth the while.

by Nathan Arizona

Related: My 44 Year Old Hands | Turquoise UFO

Fresh from the Transfer

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Mind Opening Portal
exploring the possibilities
as infinite as they have become
as soon as I had broken the windows
of everything I knew.

Then, as if divinity stepped in,
there he was with all the
beauty that he brought with him
to give to his chosen
unconditionally.

Sentient spirits came from
out of the thundering abyss
from the deep billows of the storm
and down below
all was calm and mesmerizing.

Somewhere out of this chaos
came a powerful peace that predates
our time and place
that came into our space
and brought us together.

It’s quite extraordinary,
this unknown scheme
that is more natural and mystic
than earth-made systems
And into this unknown we venture.

by Nathan Cowlishaw

My Life with UFOs

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I have noticed how many UFO Buffs get interested in the topic for a short while then get bored. Since 2013 now, I’ve been steadily dedicated to Ufology because of three unique close encounters that I witnessed with UFOs (or should I say intelligences?) that began in 2013. This didn’t make me a buff – it forever changed me into an obsessed researcher and the phenomenon haunts me these days. These incidents changed my life for better or worse. I believe my friend, Travis Walton’s story and many others who have either endured or were enlightened by these events. Many of these people are telling the truth and my experiences are going to stay with me in a very strong way for the rest of my life because these sightings forever change reality and the soul. It really doesn’t matter what other people might think or how they judge others like myself with their neolithic “flat earthed” prejudices because the bigger picture of this reality is eternally more infinite than many of us will ever comprehend. As an LDS Mormon, I never realized I would be proclaiming to see God’s face in this phenomenon and I’m not totally sure how it’s all tied to the religions of our planet but I believe the Creator himself has a hand in it. Millions of people are seeing these objects and a chosen few are witnessing ETs in person. I believe it’s both Universal and Inter-dimensional and I’m definitely seeing the smoke rising on the fringes of the reality of Mankind.

Finding The Other Person

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These days, I see other people posting deep things on social networks like Facebook, and I start to think how vain it is to put important content or anything with a more serious personal tone on a place like a corporate social network. Have we become such frail and hollow beings that we no longer find independence? This is why it is important for me to have a journal and a space to pen my more personal and intimate thoughts with a maturity that no social network is worthy of.

While stating the obvious above, here’s what’s on my mind…

I cannot change who I am for anyone but can be supportive and caring and understanding of someone else who is different. Yes, I have my struggles but the Creator knows what’s in my heart. We all have a purpose and a mission in this life. I’m trying to make sense of mine.

I would like to find someone who is wise beyond their years, with a deeper spiritual awakening about the world, and the universe and all of creation, but doesn’t care so much for our secular society where all the mundane norms become overbearing. There would be a strong affinity between this individual and me that comes loaded with absolute certainty neither of us could deny; something confirmed by a Higher Power. The Universe/Multiverse is infinite and I am aware of it as I dwell in the corners of God’s imagination. Love is simply being content and grateful for what God, the Creator, has given you. Love, through all of it’s expressions works in mysterious ways with an intelligence that even becomes eternal.

Writing a journal through these technologies enables a sturdy place for record keeping. Every day, the internet is being recorded and archived for future generations. Keeping this record let’s those who read it in the future know what was going through my mind, historically. Really, though, sometimes a serious thought and introspection is worth writing and then contemplating on.

I was inspired to say something meaningful! I’m happy in my own skin as I have matured over the years while facing the music. As an individual, my happiness comes from within and my desires and needs have changed over time. I’m still young, with so much life ahead. I hope the Creator helps me determine a destiny and guides me on where I need to go and lets me know what needs to get done.

She is my new muse… An artist is she…

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I can hear the soft whisper of the wind as it gently brushes the window blinds and evening starts to set-in… The Robins are singing in the late afternoon summer. Fine sediment is blowing in from the dust bowl west of town. And I’m just thinking… thinking about a lot of things.

Life is full of beauty with the simple, if you just let. them. be.

Originality in a Sea of Carbon Copies

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When looking for jewelry, watches, stuff like that, it’s hard to find ONE piece that stands out in an ocean of carbon copies at all the pawn shops, thrift stores, and jewelry storefronts. Human beings are very similar. It’s hard to find someone with the attractive nature of being a rugged individualist. So have the confidence to be different and separate yourself from the sheeple. I’m looking for the perfect timepiece with imperfect characteristics that compliment my beautiful turquoise watch band. 🙂

Be a Citizen Journalist & Know the Beauty

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The beauty of this world cannot be suppressed. A strong desire in humans to protect & defend their freedom also plays big role in this web of life. Certain inalienable liberties were gifted to us by the Creator and CANNOT be taken away or forfeited by any government or institution but sometimes we have to fight to protect them. There’s an evil on our planet that feels too unreal to acknowledge and is often grossly overlooked. However, it has always been there and instinctively challenges our freedom if it goes unchecked (think runaway government, greed, crony capitalism, etc) and so most people never take time to learn the truth and remain ignorant. They say those that don’t learn their own history are doomed to repeat it.

The dark shadow that now envelops our world has been here since the beginning and should be expected, but is unrealized. The current injustices unfolding everywhere have happened before, just not at this current scale of destruction. I know for a fact that the depredations against Native Americans (American Indians) in the past would eventually inflict all American Citizens especially through greed; consider the Patriot Act, and the new 2012 Federal NDAA Defense Bill that passed the US Senate, recently. This bill will declare the American homeland a battle field where American citizens are arrested if they are “suspected” of being a terrorist, or sympathizing with any terrorist group. Heck, if you act “belligerent” they can accuse you of being a terrorist and put you in endless detention without due process & without being charged for a crime. You’ll be denied a lawyer and locked up without a trial by jury! While bypassing Miranda Rights, this bill also justifies the torture of citizens while shredding the Bill of Rights. This has forced me to start pondering how we wound up with such treasonous senators and how we voted them into office!? How could they even consider passing such a dangerous, malicious bill? Many of the same injustices brought about by tyranny have harmed millions of people. Rogue governments have murdered millions and now this darkness is knocking at the door of the American people, fully armored. Surely, it was just a matter of time…

Over the years, I’ve spent my life wondering and traveling through beautiful isolated places that are unknown and often mysterious. I’ve tried to ignore the bad things in the world. Now, as Americans begin to lose their freedom & way of life (like their predecessors, the First Nations) at the hands of this dark wind (also known as Westward Expansion, colonialism, Manifest Destiny, and now greed) it’s important that we still have these beautiful places and a powerful strength within the human spirit to fight against this evil called greed. As it starts to entrench the Earth, and enslave humanity, it is just one of the beginning chapters of a cataclysmic change that’s going to arrive very soon. In fact, many non-western based cultures have been expecting this change for hundreds if not thousands of years.

There is a reason why all these terrible and unbelievable natural disasters are unfolding; massive earthquakes, rogue tsunamis, climate change, unruly wildfires, and rumors of deadly diseases. The Earth Mother is revolting. It is time for humanity to play a major role in this great change. In my gut I know a lot of people are going to suffer as a result. I cannot tell you exactly what’s going to happen because I don’t have the answers but is time for us two-leggeds to rise up and fight against this dark wind. This is a test of our humanity and I believe the Creator is fully aware of our struggles and sufferings.

As an LDS Mormon, we have our own prophecies and spiritual leaders who are guiding us in the last days. This however is my personal poetic and spiritual message to the world. It comes straight from my heart! My grandfather was a spiritual guide and an important patriarch of our family and he would always remind us to “stand ye in holy places and do what’s right in the world.” I don’t need to explain all those age-old teachings about loving your neighbor and your enemy. We all know the basics. He warned me for several years of the things that would ensnare the world and change everything as we know it, forever. We are here at the crossroads. We have entered the Event Horizon. There is no turning around, or going back. All we have is the courage to move forward with fortitude! We have to be very bold, generous, and nonviolent.

We all have to face this and survive it. So get ready. For me, all the answers lay in the wilderness. Even Jesus of Nazareth fasted for forty days and forty nights in the wild when contemplating serious spiritual matter. The rolling hills and canyons have been my haven from any uncertainty. Every time I go in the mountains, I feel like I’m returning home. The beauty of the land plays a central role to my beliefs and I share some of that affinity with my indigenous brothers and sisters who have survived and thrived into the last days, despite genocide, racism, and all the colonialism. They have strong ties with the past with their understandings of time and place and how all of history is interwoven into the present and future. I love all my friends, and all the people who have made a difference in my life, both culturally and spiritually. Mainstream America could learn a thing or two from Native people, many of whom still maintain and practice their original traditional lifeways.

To wrap this up, the world as we know it, is coming to an end. Note this, it is going to happen! So prepare. It is time for us to wake up and acknowledge the reality or parish in the tide. Pray to the Creator for the world and for mercy upon all of us. Learn and dig for the deepest truth. Make it a passion and teach yourself how to survive. Teach your friends what you know so that they can start preparing. People can survive if their heart is in the right place. That much, I do know! The Creator will know what’s in your heart. The evil and wickedness in this world will all be destroyed.

It is time for every soul to know the truth and begin asking hard questions. This is the test. Seek out the facts and really learn. Become a citizen journalist and know the importance of spreading information and facts so that more people become objective, informed and proactive. The mainstream media cannot be trusted. Their campaign has been to dumb down our friends and loved ones. It’s up to every two-legged to become a journalist. Start learning the ethics of journalism and get to work learning the truth and educating other curious minds. Information & exposing truth are the most powerful tools to change our world. This is apart of the test to see whether humanity will act accordingly.

I don’t have all the answers, I’m just going on my gut with this because I’m still looking for the truth. The more I learn, the less I know! If I am compelled to act it’s because of what I know. In the end, I’m just another two-legged with a good heart…

Let’s not forget all the warrior spirits who have fought and died for our freedoms and the beauty that we have in the world today. Let’s remember them and realize that it is our duty to protect our freedoms and everything that is beautiful in this sacred world.

Concerning Individual Beauty

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To me… Beauty runs much deeper than the friggin skin and much deeper than the human spirit; it is determined by someone’s outlook. Foolishness is ugly, and if you don’t have beauty in your heart and outlook, then you are an ugly person. It’s that simple to formulate!

Horse Sense

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I’m one of the last and youngest of a dying breed that has any lick of horse-sense left with which these newer generations cannot even mentally comprehend! All greenhorn city slickers can just ignore this status entirely because they don’t even have a clue. As Joe Dirt would joyfully chant; “Keep on keeping on.”

First Southern Utah Leak: I Believe in Wikileaks

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Who gives a crap whether drama is useful or not or whether people try to tell you how to act, how to behave, how to conform. I really don’t give a rat’s butt when people tell me what to do, what to think, and what to believe. I believe in the truth and getting to the bottom of it at any cost. This is a cause that is worth fighting for. Organizations like Wikileaks are trying to keep world governments free and transparent. They are trying to be a voice & power for the people, to protect their liberties. Julian Assange may be an American enemy to some but I view him as a Jeffersonian Hero. He believes in protecting the Freedom of the Press and he believes that is what he’s fighting for. I’m not going to back down into a closet on this issue, because I will let my heart speak freely and declare the world is a better place because of Julian Assange. We have a conduit at our disposal which will hold our government accountable for it’s actions, for the abuse of power, for those who try to hide their crimes behind secrecy, in the name of National Security. I don’t want my country committing crimes in my name. I want the American Republic to become what it was meant to be according to the original beliefs and intentions behind the Constitution. We need to stand up and protect our liberties. We need to be more decisive and seek the truth amongst all the smoke and take a stand against any potential that leads to tyranny. Let’s ask hard questions and require more accountability by our federal government which is supposed to be answering to the people!

Seriously people, get up and FIGHT or lose your freedom!

My Experience As An Outlaw

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Let’s start a political movement. Several ideas keep flooding my head and I can no longer ignore them. I have a dream for America, and it’s starts in my local community. Conservative hill-billy Southern Utah, here I come. Consider me both conservative and middle-of-the-road but I have ideas that run deeper than civilization and I intend to focus this political energy into a grassroots movement. The first batch of issues I wish to address are as follows; government accountability & transparency, police misconduct, racism & discrimination in the community and asking the “hard questions” to politicians who we elect into office and holding them accountable if they skimp out. All of this starts at the community level, in my own back yard – little cow-poke Cedar City.

Last Saturday night I sang Folsom Prison Blues in a cold cement cell in the Iron County Jailhouse. It made me feel like Johnny Cash. After returning from St. George, Utah on a date with a great red-headed gal, I was pulled over by a polite rookie cop & five minutes later escorted from my Jeep, accompanied by a second officer and formally arrested in front of my date. I wasn’t even allowed to walk her to the door, appropriately. This angered me pretty bad. It turns out my license was suspended and they had a warrant for my arrest over an unpaid ticket. Five months before, I was pulled over & cited for not having proof of insurance while running an errand in my mother’s truck. My sweet mom claimed she would take care of the ticket & clear my name, since it happened in her truck. It’s safe to assume it didn’t happen. It was my responsibility, anyway.

I didn’t have to spend the night in the slammer thanks to my buddy, Tom. The ticket was dismissed on Monday morning with an agreement that I plead guilty for failing to appear in court. The judge fined me $137 & $35 to get my driver’s license reinstated. What a wonderful money-making scheme for the county and state. They made an example out of me; made me feel like an outlaw! It was empowering. Now I declare myself a bonafide rebel. I will misbehave, wreck havoc, and change the world in every legal way possible. I will act as an outlaw in the most law-abiding sense that any legal outlaw should act. I will change the system.

Thanks to two donut-hunters, I have the inspiration needed to write this rant. With all the stories I’ve been hearing about borderline harassment of American citizens by local law enforcement in this town, It’s time to raise the bar and set higher standards of conduct for Utah lawmen. And why are Washington and Iron Counties making bank off of law-abiding citizens like us when they should be chasing after real criminals instead of harassing citizens!? We are still living in the old west. There’s a lot of room to abuse power in Southern Utah. I’ve done my best to respect the efforts of local police and I am one of the most law-abiding citizen you’ll ever meet. Unfortunately two police officers barked up the wrong tree when they decided to mess with me. We can argue that they were just doing their job and this was routine, but I feel wronged for many a reason. . . we can continue this discussion but I don’t feel like writing any more. It get’s me upset.

A Few Words To Me from My Father

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A Child….
When you start to talk about the wind in your hair….
I know it is because you are running from life…
So run…..
You are very talented though!
You write like Edward Abbey…
your pictures are breathtaking….
you play a mean flute tune…
Your the best damn tour guide….
You are kind….
You are caring….
You’re so talented that you don’t see it….
you’re passionate….
and these things I am envious of….
They make you rich…..
They make you unique….
and I could learn a thing or two from ya….
I proud of these things….in my son…

Heading to Delta Tomorrow

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In the morning, I am getting up early and driving three hours to Delta to sell some Alabaster to a rock shop there. Yup, that’s how I am going to pay the rent this month. My favorite stretch of highway is between Milford and Deseret, Utah, which is seventy miles without services and very desolate. If I have enough time to spare this will mean plenty of desert landscape shots through my lens tomorrow.

On another note, I’m heading to the bottom of the Grand Canyon with my best friend, Omar and a few ladies this weekend. Hopefully we’ll stop in at the Bar 10 Ranch and grab dinner out there and maybe say hello to my old friends. They want me to help them in April to do some guide work in the canyon. I’m thinking it over. Trust me, the bottom of the Grand Canyon is much warmer than Cedar City at this time of year.

Early Morning Drive

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About 5 AM this morning I threw on Levis and Redwing boots and rushed into the early February cold before the hint of dawn. As I fired up the Jeep it was so frigid that I quickly retreated into the house waiting for the engine to warm up. The day before, after church, I drove into the desert to plow in four-wheel-drive through fresh snow and get a good scenic view of the aftermath of a big blizzard that had moved through on Saturday. After turning on a random dirt road, I drove about 50 miles cutting fresh tracks in the new snowfall. It felt like I traveled back in time, very nostalgic. I’ve roamed these hills enough to believe it still is like the frontier days. As I looked off into the distance I thought I saw the Wells Fargo stage-coach heading towards the mining-camp of Pioche, Nevada.

Later on I was passing a bend in a canyon and witnessed two coyotes playing in the snow on the opposite hillside. They were unaware of my approach but took off over the ridge after getting spooked. Ten miles later, I came upon a large heard of sheep in a desolate basin scouring for the grass beneath the snow. Two huge white dogs guarded the bunch like vigilant cowboys. They barked warnings at me to stay in the vehicle.

I need to write more for posterity. My Grandpa Lamoreaux suffered a serious stroke recently and he was known as a story-teller in the family. But everything was oral. With the stroke, those stories and memories are lost in time. I grew up with my grandpa telling me about the lost Spanish Gold, claim jumpers, and ghosts. I regret not recording the stories of my grandfather & his prospecting days. All I have is what I remember him telling me. It was often when we were traveling back from the Alabaster mines on the other side of Bryce Canyon that he would begin a tale.

My love for the hills was spawned and nurtured by my grandfather and his love of nature and prospecting. My own sentiment about the landscape evolved in a different way. I’m not so much a prospector or capitalist like him. More or less, I love the wilderness because it is all we have left. I want to see things go back to the old ways. If I could I’d reverse time and send everyone back to the days of their ancestors. I just love the history of the red sandstone and the deepness of the canyons. The history it still there, haunting these places and we are another chapter. Those canyon will still be there long after we are gone. When I’m in a sandstone canyon there’s nothing more archaic than the echo of a hungry ravens as it glides above the sandstone rim & or the distant thunder of a monsoon cloud-burst off in the distance, or the trickling stream winding it’s way through a rattling grove of Cottonwood. I live for the simplicity, ruggedness, and the rough terrain of Canyon Country, and getting up before sunrise. My gold mine is the beautiful places that have taken root in my heart.

I’ve lost sight on occasion of these most precious things in my life. God created these holy places to seek refuge from the bitter storms of life but I’ve allowed myself to get bogged down like everyone else who gets plugged into civilization. Our modern lifestyle destroys our connections to the Earth and the land. I haven’t forgotten my roots, and I am going back to them. I’m familiar with the canyons and high plateaus of Utah where the meadowlark still sits on the fence-line in spring, singing in as the morning dew glitters in the sun-rays. It’s almost March and I am feeling so restless with summer fever. I’m restless and was up before sunrise with the neighborhood in a slumber.

So I’ve returned from the drive – rejuvenated by snowy country roads and greeted by the sun as it rose from the East. I beat the dawn and it lengthened my day. Life is super-short, why spend it sleeping!? I’ve also been so distracted trying to locate my better half, and haven’t met a girl who loves the mountains & canyons as much as I do. Well, may I have? It’s too early to tell! It’s the end of February and winter is ready to fight. I don’t mind the Spring snow. It’s expected but unwelcome to most who live in the high desert. As a photographer, I always welcome stormy weather but I really love seeing snow slush on green grass and yellow daffodils. The first cricket started singing in my apartment yesterday. He was telling me that Spring had arrived!

My Hat’s Tipped to Libya’s Freedom Fighters

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Libya becomes bloodbath as Moammar Gadhafi begins lose grip on power. I support the Libyan people in the uprising against Gadhafi’s regime. For me, the serious unrest is reminiscent of a scene from the movie, Braveheart, where Sir William Wallace screams FREEEEEDOM right before losing his head after a long, arduous and disheartening struggle. Let this be a reminder that freedom often comes with a lethal sacrifice in human blood. Gadhafi is an evil man who is not going to give up without a deadly fight. I can feel the courage, and the thirst for freedom that Libyans are feeling. Gadhafi’s desperation emboldens and glorifies their effort. Believe me, Moammar is the real Cockroach. I am cheering for all Libyans to reach their deepest dream to find the peace that they deserve in this world, and in the hereafter. My heart is cheering for the people who are paying the price for freedom in the Middle East. It’s amazing this is happening in my lifetime. The most honorable deed is fighting for what is right, taking a stand for truth and defending what is most sacred. Freedom is tasty and it’s worth the high price. Don’t forget, It’s better to die fighting rather than on your knees, begging the enemy.

Gazing into the Firelight

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My heart is quiet as I listen to the dark winds moving in from the west as the sun drops in the crimson purple abyss. There is a soft twilight mixed with the smell of cold juniper frost and the sound of a monster walking in the woods. The branches of the pinions creak as the night envelops the desert hills.

My imagination takes a journey into the past, to the most ancient times, and I can see them flint-knapping and throwing unused chips of augite into the dirt. One old man is building a fire that grows strong and he stokes it with dead sage and broken pinion branches. This ignites in my mind like a dream or a vision. His skin is withered and his hair is silvery gray with snow-white streaks. He sits on the cold rocky ground and huddles near the fire with the reflection of the flames dancing in his eyes. He’s looking into the fire pondering the wind, the land, and the old ways, and the stories. He’s thinking of his family, his parents, and the stories that his grandfather passed onto him before he died several ages before.

This old man, he’s some unnamed Indian man, just a flicker of light in my dream. But the scene replays over and over of the old man thinking and gazing into the fire. He’s thinking of his grand-kids, and the people gathered around and about. Dinner is over, and it’s late at night and other people are huddled around other fires as well. The stars come out, and the wind howls.

And then the memory, like a firefly, comes and goes…

Decolonizing America?

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It’s not impossible for Uncle Sam to change his outlook & decolonize. In fact, I think he could change his whole opinion & quit seeing the world from the typical ethnocentric, westernized standpoint. Our multi-cultural nation could enter an enlightened renaissance never seen before in the history of civilization!

Owls, Coyotes, Memories and Dreams

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Wild Art - Raven Lands on Dead Juniper Claw

My Amigo, Omar and I traveled out to Milford, Utah. We stopped off at an old abandoned mining mill and smelter out in the boonies. There inside a decrepit torn building with a partially collapsed roof, we saw a Great Horned owl which flew out of the ruins and then returned a few seconds later. It wasn’t very far above our heads, about 15 feet and It landed up in the roof rafters. It looked back down on us with ruffled feathers and a quiet stance. This has been apart of a strange series of events that I’ve noticed over the past summer. Since July, I’ve had about five different coyotes cross my path and I cannot help but feel slightly superstitious. At first, it felt like bad luck but there’s beauty in all of this. I do not know what these events mean? Rarely have I had coyotes cross my path, if ever? Usually I see deer, or even skunks, but never coyotes. So the frequency of these events leads me to believe something strange is happening? I’m wondering how this may affect my life or if it is an omen of some sort? Being Mormon, and LDS, I cannot dive too deep into this mystery.

But life is beyond real or the confines of imaginary fiction. Something spectacular crawls through our reality of time and space. Events happen that cannot be explained. We have experiences like breaking down at Area 51 or nearly drowning in a Grand Canyon Flood. Or perhaps fate does exists and a perfect love story begins… Who knows? Maybe fate was never real, and we begin to fill our imaginations with crazy nonsense. Truly, I never really give up on faith and the power of patience.

As I roam desert wastelands, and talk to quirky strangers, I realize the beauty of this life and to have a strong faith in the unseen. Things happen when the time is right. As I write this, I listen to the crickets outside my open door out in the country and watch the sunlight fade into soft warm dusk. Fall is coming, and I ponder the adventures that await…

Now going down memory lane, this is a lonely flare but ignites in the cave of my dreams. I miss the deep starry skies of Flagstaff, Arizona and the snow in the Ponderosa. I don’t usually like the winter cold but the land of Northern Arizona captures my imagination. I miss hearing train whistles blow all night long as Santa Fe rail cars passed through downtown. Flagstaff is the classic, Route 66 train town and where the music of Johnny Cash grew close to my heart. Tonight, I let these memories catch fire…

And now, a short love poem – let the starlight capture your gaze tonight where happiness never sleeps and dreams never soften. A heart that is pure cannot deny the truth of what was real, and I love life because of what may be? Never forget the memories as they come and go and flee…

My Strong Heart

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First off, I finally have something to write about and it concerns my earlier life. This is what I call introspection. When I was in grade school I hopelessly teased, ridiculed, and made fun of. In the sixth grade I wore a hat that proclaimed, “I love my Grandpa!” The other school children made fun of me because I dressed like a country boy and was living in Salt Lake City at the time. Basically, I was country when country wasn’t cool and I didn’t jive with city kids. I wasn’t good at sports, neither. So the combination made me the class clown.

In a way, I feel like I was dealt a great injustice but it empowered me to be self-dependent, to survive alone this world. That’s where it all begins. This is what makes me personally sovereign. By my definition of that, it means being a citizen to yourself first and foremost before giving allegiance to anything or anyone else. I’m a warrior against the injustices in the world and I’ve learned to be that way from personal struggles. I was bullied in school and now I stand against those that destroy beauty.

There’s a reason I’m an outlaw and a rebel against this modern world because I hear the voices on the wind and dream of deepness and darkness of rivers. My dreams are strong and powerful just like the thunderstorm off in the distance or the coyote that crosses the road. My heart allows me to take a stand against the injustices in the world and I want to become a warrior spirit against those that harm the beauty in this world.

The Creator gave me a heart that is true and pure. The truth is, I am not afraid of getting my heart broken or hurt. Life is beautiful and it’s the challenging experiences that count most. In the end, my deepest charms are reserved for the girl that wins my heart. All others will be friend-zoned. 🙂

Aliens and Country Store Ice Cream

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Earthlings Welcome

We drove out to Area 51 in the middle of the night which turned into a big misadventure. Actually, it wasn’t a misadventure at all. Well it was, but it wasn’t. And it wasn’t even my idea. You see, there’s this girl I was studying with at Southern Utah University and after we finished up she suggested that we drive to Area 51 in Southern Nevada in the middle of the night. I don’t think she realized that I would do such a thing. Most guys aren’t crazy. Well, she’s crazy and I realized how much fun it would be. So we went hippie and took two of our friends along and drove to Area 51 in the middle of the night. The plan was to pull an all night adventure. So with a wild hair we left Southern Utah for Area 51. I’ve never visited the place in the middle of the night and the inspiration behind it was impressive.

So we began the journey leaving Cedar City around 10 PM. On our way we stopped in Modena, Utah next to some rotting antique buildings from the 19th century. They were all boarded up and looked mysterious in the headlights of a parked SUV. We also stood next to the tracks as a train flew by. The energy of the beast rattled the ground like a land slide and whipped the dark wind creating the most intense sensation of freedom. We stood within a few feet of the passing train with our arms all stretched stretched to the sky. It’s these little moments that grow on you and burn into memory. It’s why people go on adventures; to experience life which is way too short. It’s why love has so much power. I love life. Now back to the story…

This crazy girl is Aleicia. Don’t ask me where she came from. I call her the rock chip repair girl. That’s how my amigos and I met her. She fixes rock chips on peoples’ windows next to one of our favorite country fast food joints in Cedar City called Top Spot. They have a plastic cow on the roof that makes the whole town laugh and you can get bonafide country store ice-cream for a buck! Well I take it back, it isn’t just ice cream; it’s a home-made/hand-made shake that costs a dollar. That’s how I met this amazing girl, Aleicia, telling her about Country Store Ice Cream while she was inspecting a rock chip on my wind-shield.

After leaving Modena, we crossed the Nevada state line around midnight and took a pit-stop in Pioche in Lincoln County, Nevada. We walked into a haunted motel with a reputation for ghosts. The town itself is of high red-neck quality, the towns-folk are very unusual and sometimes suspicious of outsiders. Some of them are storytellers of the the old west or descendants of outlaws. There’s not much to see in the middle of the night so we took pictures on the empty main as fluorescent street lights eliminated ancient buildings in strange white isolation. It is said when Pioche was first established as a mining camp in the late 1800s, over 76 people died in shoot-outs and cold blooded murder before anyone passed on of natural causes. So the town never gained the same notoriety as Tombstone or Dodge City but it was more lawless than both those towns combined. Pioche was nearly invisible on the vast frontier, being on edge of the Mojave wilderness and the Southern Fringe of the Great Basin.

The Great Basin enormous and covers most of Nevada. The geographical characteristics are usually valleys that stretch for dozens of miles with sparse mountain ranges popping up like islands in the sea. You can drive down an empty highway and never see another motorist for hours on end, even in the middle of the summer during tourist season. I once ran out of gas on my way to Baker, Nevada once and was stranded on the roadside for five hours before an RV came along with spare can of gas. This is why I love that country!

We didn’t stay long in Pioche but we stopped briefly at Cathedral Gorge State Park for a moon-lit hike through strange badlands formations and joked and teased in the dark of night. What an eerie place as it reminded me of a time when Skinwalkers and Chupacobras lurk in the shadows of Juniper and Pinion and coyotes howl in the sage. We watched one of the last thunderheads of summer pour down on the desert, and the lightning show was reminiscent of fireworks but it was natural and beautiful. We were soon driving through the downpour on our way to Nevada’s secret military base but the federal government still denies its existence!

Around 2-3 AM we arrived in the shambled ruins of Rachel, Nevada, on the northern boundary of Area 51. It doesn’t even look like a town at all. There’s the Little Ale’inn which is the major gathering place of UFO enthusiasts and alien experts from all over the world. Before arriving there, we took pictures of otherworldly grafitti; little green men with big bug eyes painted on buildings and water tanks. The rural decay around Rachel is amazing because of the extra terrestrial memorabilia that has become quite nostalgic. We stopped briefly at the inn to photograph the famous sign there, while looking up at shooting stars. That is one evening I will never forget.

We finally ventured down one of the back roads to the border of Area 51, to a gated entrance that was heavily lit. We approached the signs that say. “Use of Deadly Force, Authorized.” We parked the Blazer about twenty feet from the gate in the lights of a watch-tower and observed a unmarked military guard walking in the darkness. He was wearing what looked like a space suite and no one ever came to talk to us. They knew we were there long before we arrived. That’s all we witnessed of Area 51. We never saw strange lights, just a few shooting stars… There’s not much else to see and it’s not all that spectacular. We went out there because it was important that we actually had the experience. We set a goal and we accomplished our initiative. It is important to follow through on your initiatives just like it’s important for a climber on Mt. Everest to reach the summit. We accomplished our mission, but it came with a price.

To be continued…

Nate’s Definition of Racism

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Racism isn’t just random acts of hate; everyone is infected with it. Racism is ignorance and peoples’ refusal to walk in the shoes of people who are different than them. Racism is apathy and a refusal to learn both sides of the story. Racism is the refusal to ask hard questions. Last of all, I see a racist as someone who believes so strongly in race that they fight extra hard trying to defend a false construct.

Be the Captain of Your Ship

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Life is good but how do you rid yourself of bad behavior like procrastination? It’s not healthy or desirable. The worst kind of activity is unproductivity. Life is about setting goals and progress happens one step at a time. It’s not a simple matter because it takes a conscious effort and some faith.

Being on Earth every day is the ultimate experience but it’s hard to know the outcome. My father always said; “the choices you make now will ripple into your future.” I’ve felt the ripples of my choices and they were unanticipated. NATE, you’re time on this planet is limited so make wise decisions, please!

I love certainty and knowing what’s going to happen, or where the road may lead. So many people are content to float around. There’s nothing wrong with it but I’m captain of my destiny because I choose the life I create. Not everything happens by chance. That’s why it’s important when considering every opportunity that comes along.

It’s been a beautiful week at the end of the semester. School is done as we move forward into summer. I’ve got plans. Big changes are coming into my life one step at a time. Never be afraid to dream big and strive for the best outcome. Many individuals wait for the wind to hit their sail but there’s a paddle in my boat!

Love on the Backburner

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Don’t think of love cause it’s not real.
A little rest would do me good.
I’m ridin this ol’ Greyhound from
Utah to Arizonaland and it isn’t too bad.
I close my eyes or
watch the clouds out the tinted windows.
Don’t think of love.
Just listen to the old timer
pickin the banjo in the headphones,
singing the Crawdad Song.
There isn’t any going back,
cept to moving forward and keeping a real dream.
Because beauty comes deep from the center.
I’ve been tellin a story of how the impossible happened,
But a story is all it was.
The landscape unfolds in front of the road
under the black desert sun.

Landscapes & Wilderness

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Southern Utah Landscapes

The way I see landscape is the simplicity of it; away from the commotion. Most tourists and travelers hit the national parks around my homeland of Southern Utah but as a local I travel to areas that foreign outsiders never see. I look for surviving elements of the old west and before; I seek out original places that seem to withstand modern colonialism. These places remain very beautiful long after everything else has changed or morphed. Of course, I do not believe in pristine wilderness but the wild in whatever shape or form still speaks volumes, even where humans do change everything.

Tower of Stars

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Dangling My Feet Off Horseshoe Bend

We are selfish and lonely creatures. We get too busy with our miniature lives. In a static world of big cities and forgotten dreams we tend to trample over more important things and forget others are feeling the exact same heartbreak. In the commotion I stand back and listen to the buzzing static and yearn for silence. So many opportunities wait to be seized. Often we simply overlook such chances or don’t realize that they’ve come and gone. I have passed up many good opportunities in my life and now ponder on what happened and what went wrong? It’s called experiencing the ripples of things I did in my younger years. I made allot of wrong choices. Still, I am young and hopefully waking up to subtle hints that will guide me to further opportunities. My hope is that not all is lost. Blessings await! My prejudices are only second nature because my heart is in tune with the mistakes that I have made.

At this moment of realization, the only real idea is to keep moving forward into the future. So this current frame of time is all that matters. We are not alone in this world, neither in the universe. There is something out there so much bigger than us. The tower of stars climbs the stairways of heaven. Earth is a speck in the fleece but it is incorporated into a system teaming with spectacular mysteries and visions.

Life is beautiful and we all have dreams no matter how insignificant we may feel, so don’t be lonely. Have peace and remain calm. We are not alone. There is something much bigger than us. Let your heart tune into this. Listen to the wind slicing through pines. Enjoy the purple skies of a luminous sunset. Live life to the fullest! Please, do not worry yourself because there is something much, much bigger than us. You must have faith and hope for things which are not seen but are true.

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