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Canyon Country Western Arts

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I am not satisfied with the current design for this weblog, so I am going to change things around a bit. It was supposed to be an experiment, but I’ve become greatly attached to this. I haven’t quite figured out how to use it? There is two other places that I do some serious writing; my personal hardback journal, and my notepad where poems are born. The blog is more informal, but highly personal?

This morning, I’m just waiting on some clothes in the dryer, and then I’m headed to the Canyon Country Western Arts Festival which is just a few blocks from home. They’re going to have a couple singing groups from the Paiute tribe, which I look forward to. Many local artisans are there to display their work. Later on, the spotlight will focus on the cowboy poets and musicians, my favorite being the yodeling contest!

My brother and I are planning a trip tonight. We hope to travel to Toroweap, located 66 miles south of the Utah/AZ state line. It?s on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. We will hopefully depart March 19, next week.

I’ve been stuck here in this worthless town all Spring break. My car is shipwrecked in the driveway and nothing to do. Hopefully it’ll get fixed soon, so I can go out into the boonies.

The Dead Coyote

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I pulled my car up to a post marker off the side of the highway,
and there hung a dead coyote. Its head was tied to the post with bailing wire

His face was covered in blood
and his glassy eyes were still open staring at the broken sky.
its tongue was hanging out and drizzling.

I feel anger and sorrow for this murdered creature.
I wanted to untie his body and bury his soul somewhere remote.
a secret place where he could rest.

The coyote, a friend, but they stuck him on display
wasting his life away. They cut his ears off at the base
for some sort of bounty for the local BLM.

I can’t stop seeing into those glassy eyes and into the shadows of the beast.
Hopelessly hanging there, fur whipping in the wind. I’m connected to its death.
cold blood moving. the breathing is brittle and short.

As I looked at you coyote I felt the sorrow of this world.
Those damned cowboy men with chewing tobacco, leaving beer can trails all over
are bloody murderers and thieves of this ancient land.

They mock the very soul of this beautiful wild.

The Thing With A Personality

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There’s a feeling deep inside every human being,
a tiny suspicion about something that lurks around in reality.
It cannot be seen nor heard, because it hides itself.
It can visit you with it’s clues!

It’s the abnormal shadow in the green trees.
It is in those abandoned hills, and in the darkness of an attic.
It loves the moonlit night with an eerie presence.
It loves to hide at the bottoms of the ocean
like the white whale that killed Captain Ahab.

It is in Grandma’s old cellar.
You can feel it while looking at a crystal waterfall,
or down an ancient highway with weeds growing from it’s flat top.

There it hides in the corner of your heart, taunting your might.
It would like to reveal itself to you.
And someday it will on a mysterious afternoon,
in the right place, at the right time. You will get to meet it.

There’s An Owl In My Tree

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Avoiding the coyotes and the other things that creep and crawl upon the skin, in the darkness of the earth, he follows the whispers from the mountains. He follows them to the source. He sits there with the rain falling into his hand from the black sky above and cups it carefully, staring into the liquid. His crystal eye is full of passion for the Creative Powers. Where the old trees stand strong and the sandstone is red, he hides in the shadows. Where his bare feet wonder those ageless stone lands, silence bears full witness. This boy travels the desert, talks with the holy wind, and dreams of long ago. Yes, he will go the correct way. He will not die, but will see the vision of the old people.

There are places he goes that refuse to cast darkness about, he seeks the light of the yellow sun above. There, the mystery beings hide in the passing thunder clouds as they climb up over the painted hills.

Plant those tiny seeds in the Earth. She will care for them. She will help them grow. They will turn into the magical forms of life that sustain beauty. Their leaves will take in the wind. The laughter will startle you from the corn stalks in the small field at the edge of the mesa.

This is where a single cloud moves its shadow down off the red mesa into the silent and spacious.

The Ghost hides, but the crooked old woman can see it. Then she calls for her husband to come out and see it. He is also barely able to walk on tired feet. The Sky Father above can change, and the earth protects them. Old woman cries though, and the husband starts to pray. The ghost of the dead then fades away, back to the crossing.

Two worlds under this one sky come together. Show it respect. Do not tread on sacred ground. Back off. Do not trespass where the Creative Power forbids. Stand worthy to dream, and to walk in the beauty of it all, where you are allowed.

The days of today are still beautiful. The Creator is still happy. Forget the new world. The old one has always existed and will forever more. Time will not stop talking. Mother Earth is with the Holy Wind. We were given life from both. They are us! We are them.

The Bear – A True Story

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Today I sleep away in this slumber
and awoke to a footstep and then another

My campfire was still smoking.
The morning light was close but an not quite.
The blue haze of the night lurked around my tent.
The wind dashed through the trees.
Then the clouds under the moonlight slid
silently over the mountains.

All alone, I had wandered across this countryside,
and then rested away in my camp.
The fire burned, and danced through the night.
I made it very big to keep me from fright.
This was a deep cemetery of trees! Very old they were!
I had traveled through them, like a trance.

Now I am in my tent and I have awaken!
This footstep fear is in my veins, and I tick with fear.
What is out there? I worry myself as I soon
remember I had left my food out over the night.

All of a sudden I can hear a curious snort!
My dinner pan bangs on the ground.
I can hear licking from a snout,
and grunts from some kind of beast.
What is it? What is out there?
The furry thing moves about.

I can hear him in the early light. What should I do?
I do not want to move,
cause I feel stiff! After a moment,
I Slowly and cautiously get up
and take a peek through the screen
of the tent and there in front of me is a Bear!

A REAL BEAR!!!

I watch in quiet bewilderment
he doesn’t know I am here.
He is eating my food, piece by peace.

The fear is still in me.
I rattle the tent like a bush
and make strange sounds,
as if I were a beast too.
The bear stops in his routine and stares at me.
He is now frozen with fear.
The black bear’s eyes are stuck,
then like a flash of huge thunder
he takes off running into the forest,
and then he is gone.

Knowledge of Trees

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Every now and then, there is a strange silence on that mountain that finds its own way into our little town. Mysterious animals shroud themselves in the forests up there, beneath the cloud scraped skies.

Alone and dirty on quiet afternoons, I like to leave the town on foot entering into those trees on the mountain’s edge. The great forest always knows when I am coming.

I climb to a hill just below the mountain and sit down on top of it to take a break, letting a little sunshine bathe me.

Ever since I was a kid, I’m used to the fact that trees can talk to each other. They can visit among each other like people, but with their own tree language. Words among trees spread faster than the wind. One tree sees me coming, and they all know I’m there!

People do not listen to this mountain very much, they seem to have their ears closed when it speaks or acts funny.

Long ago, it is said that there was a great bird the size of a house that found the shady canyons of the mountain a home. I believe there are creatures here today, still unheard of.

If you carefully listen when you come to the mountain, you will be tricked into hearing phantom noises. These whispers or jolting laughs are the trees being funny. If you hear anything that you cannot explain, it is them. They like to fool with your mind!

When no one is around but me, the trees sing. They sing happiest when the wind filters through their branches.

Trees think and can record history in their own way too. They seem to keep memories of those that have died long ago; remembering the wars, and the good times of five fingered beings!

The trees of this mountain have always been together and united. They know what peace and happiness are. While Mother Earth turns on her axis, there they are always waiting. They know what the wind will bring. They know it carries in its arms, silent messages of the Earth Mother. She speaks her thoughts through them. They talk when she does.

Life is Forever a Mystery!

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Summer is near. Hopefully the clouds will come and bring rain upon the Colorado Plateau and Great Basin. These two enormous and uncanny deserts are my church, where untouched secrets still lurk; where wild creatures roam unscathed.

There is good and evil in this little conundrum of life, but everything serves a purpose. Our reality cannot be understood with any theory. Humans can try, but I don’t think they will ever succeed in defining our infinite existence. Science and math cannot describe the beauty of a thunderstorm roaring across the land, becuase it can’t describe how I feel inside. For the Creator is gorgeous; and reality is forever a mystery.

Trying to Understand My Existence

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There is a reason I write about the desert, and other places of beauty. When I’m out in the middle of nowhere; far from cities, institutions, or establishments, It feels awesome and secure. So I’ve come to the conclusion that humans are in a deep load of shit. They keep manifesting their oppression in different ways. If I write about the wilderness, it keeps me balanced. The images of mountains, trees, and wind, these beautiful dreams are painted to my memory, and they bring understanding. I hear the wind when I feel confined, or wherever oppression pervades.

Society is everywhere, and its confusion keeps growing stronger. Every now and then, life feels so useless. I’ve been alienated, and want nothing to do with the dreams and ambitions of the modernized world; for their dreams and ambitions might equal death, destruction and dehumanization. How else can one describe the problem? My own mental outlook is a burden, because I don?’ know how else to feel, or react? This superficial modern culture suffocates me; what a hell-hole of confusion! Even when I conceive new ideas, even they become recycled versions of the same old disease, a continuation of the same old destroyer. This is how it feels and this is why I write about the wilderness. Everything is so spacious and empty, and I am empty inside. If I know nothing, then I must be more human?

My opinion is, humans are weak, and I’m weak. That is truth, because my own pride sucks. My arrogance and prejudices suck. I detest them all, because they’re components of the disease. This is my assumption, but I think many others feel the same, and if there is only silence, we would never get anywhere

I know nothing. If an an observation is made, its nothing more then that.

My Affinity For Trees

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When I photograph the landscape, the trees are the most profound models. Their twisted shapes tease my spiritual universe, manifesting great feelings to my heart. When I see the shapes of trees, and stand in their shadows, and touch the bark of slithering branches, I respect the intelligence and kindness that whispers softly from those fleshy-wooden centers. They seem to communicate with compassion. They love life in unconditional ways; great peacemakers in a hardened, troubled world; patient creatures, with the greatest definition of understanding. I?ve wanted to emulate their calmness, but I envy their beauty. Cemented in one place, they grow so wise and bountiful; those roots crawl so deep. They are so clever; that white painted Aspen, that rustic pine, and every other wooden spirit.

It was a cabin in the wilderness, where a Tree Man discovered my sorrow, and the clouds and wind never stopped. He called himself the Dream-maker, and was full of wordless resonance. I spoke with the wooden mind carefully, its heart was quite a spook; It so skillfully-artistically studied my vision. Noon dripped from the pines like butter. The visitor was so hard to learn. While the ground around him was dark like ravens? it was his thrown of beauty. The sky palace above was sweet as flowers in a young meadow. Soon he left the ancient cabin and strutted like an old fellow bent with pain; dressed like a three-hundred year old hobo, a hermit ghost in organic rags. If you ever gazed into the eyes of this beholder, the compassion was more elder then humans. In the end he became a tree. For the sun in a quiet world is the peace of such rest and stillness.

Another Desert Dream

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The thunder and wind are acting strange this evening. The crickets are serenading. I’m standing there are the mesa edge watching the sun scatter its rays through gaps in the clouds. The desert becomes glowing red, and the rain sparkles through the sun’s rays, soaking the monstrous cottonwoods below, bathing them in a deep yellow light. All is quiet, except the wind, thunder, birds, and crickets. I watch the lightning strike the desert back and forth in the mystery of the moment, randomly hurling itself out of dark thunderheads that engulf the desert in shadow.

These canyons are my home, my soul. Mysteries are flowing down unknown channels. The Sky Father is happy this evening, and the sun knows I’m here waiting. And this world has awakened. It is so awesome to hear her voice, and nothing can surpass the moment. The beauty is forever strong, and my heart is beating. There are creatures that creep in unknown places, and the shade lurks in the trees. It’s a strange thing with a personality, looking at me with invisible eyes. It’s laughing hard and wailing, but what does it mean?

There are so many sounds, so many different birds singing in the cottonwoods and the creek below is busy singing, and the rain splashes on the rocks like gravy. A roaring flash-flood goes rampaging somewhere in the abyss of shady wasteland, and somewhere, somebody’s footprints have never been found. Their body lays undisturbed like a footprint on the moon; dead like a mummy, and buried somewhere deep.

The clouds begin to break slowly, then pass over the mountains to the north. The thunder goes with them. The sun sets it’s foot on the horizon, then slowly creeps below. I watch the sky ignite into crimson colors, then fading to purple, and then deep maroon. I waited until the last sliver of ancient sun departed, and stood there till every color came to an end. Then I awoke from the pleasant dream.

The plateau country was radiating, and the raven’s had vanished to the alcoves where their young awaited. I was beneath an alcove myself, near some petroglyphs that I had photographed. Their gnarly shapes and twisted bodies were perplexing; Little figures with antennas dancing across the rock-face. Their strange grip on my spirit was marvelous and erratic. They healed that uncanny darkness within. What are these peculiar creatures, painted and etched in sandstone canyons? They invade my head with their shadows at night, and glow like phantoms.

The entrance to the that twisted canyon country was covered in a dream, but I can still feel its shadow on the breeze that slithers like a snake down old mountains, and across vast landscapes. It reminds me of whirlwinds, and dust devils, and how they turn so mysteriously. I am grateful that the wind is in me, that I may breathe!

When Close Friends Fade Away

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It’s real funny, but I thought some friends could last forever, that they would always be someone you could lean on? But even close friends come and go. They soon fade from your life and become distant, pleasant memories. It’s real sad in a way, because you build an attachment and relationship with them, and then they’re gone? Maybe I’ve been that way too, but I thought friends could last a lifetime? Despite my mistakes and imperfections, loved ones have always been there for me through thick and thin. And in tough times, family will always be there when I need help. If it weren’t for my immediate family, I don’t know where I would be?

The human race is lonely and unpredictable. Why are we unable to understand ourselves? Why is it such a deep conundrum? Sometimes I am afraid of being human, because of what I am capable of. There’s also much to learn in this lifetime. So hopefully I’ll learn the answers to some of my questions.

Sometimes if your friends stroll totally out of your life, maybe they weren’t really your friends to begin with?

How the Dawn Inspires

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Our family went south of Cedar City and almost made it to Arizona. There was a new area that we had never been before, and it was awesome. Big red rock cliffs came jutting out of the ground like backbones. Creosote bushes and various cacti decked the landscape clear to the horizon.

We left Cedar about 6:00 A.M. before the sun even came up, just right before dawn. The Pine Valley Mountains, located south of Cedar City began glowing in a soft purple hue and then turned pink, red, and orange. The sky was burning red. The whole vista was dreamlike, and brilliant.

When the sun rises, it is good to witness. Because if you’re lying in bed and sleeping, you must ungrateful and lazy? That beautiful sun provides warmth for this planet. If it weren’t for its service, we’d all be dead. It is hard for me to rise in the morning, but I have been doing it lately. Going to bed early and rising early is a good habit. It creates a mind full of wisdom and happiness. The day seems more fulfilling and high-minded.

I always try to be thankful for my innate source of power, and I am grateful to be living and breathing the sweet air of the Earth. I’m grateful for my parents, siblings, and family. So don’t forget to count ALL your blessings, instead of being ungrateful.

Hopefully, I don’t flip-flop on this subject, but I’ve tried to be thankful for everything that the Creator has given. I’m even thankful for being depressed sometimes. Because blessings come in many different forms, whether they be good or bad. The struggles in life are blessings. They teach you to endure to the end.

When I viewed the sunrise on the desert this morning, It reminded me of everything beautiful and bountiful. What a grand and stunning world that we all have the privilege to live in.

Dreaming of Bristlecone Pines

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The wind pushes through the forest like a wild stallion, roaring in a thousand rivers. In the mountains around my home, Bristlecone Pines stand high on the edges of cliffs and mountain peaks; catching and shredding the wind in their twisted branches, making it whistle and wail! I’ve been up there on those mountains, in places where no other man has ever been. I’ve befriended those ancient monsters of peace. They have chosen to grow in the most barren places. They are wise for their perseverance, and for their stubborn lives.

They were on my mind tonight. I was day-dreaming. When I am confined, busy, and unable to travel, I depend on a core of mental images/landscapes. But that simply isn’t enough! Sooner or later, I start going crazy. Surely, the desert is always singing to me.

The urge is relentless. It keeps me thinking about the deepest parts of my life. Is my existence on Mother Earth important? This journal serves a purpose, no matter how obsolete. It is an endless journey to discover my own shadow. I’m just one of billions!

The wilderness is my haven, because it always feels safe. It keeps me balanced and sane.

Click Here for info on the gorgeous Bristlecone Pine!

Uncomfortably Restless

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It’s constantly agitating; something keeps bothering me, but I can’t identify the source? I’m dubious? There is this constant impulse to wander off somewhere? But school is an anchor. Why do I feel distraught? This city is surrounded by desert on all sides, and I’m pondering on deep beauty.

We all dream. We all feel cut off. We are lonely, and need a freedom that is hard to reach. So continue to survive, because the mysteries are still singing. I can see the clouds as they travel the sky, and they are restless.

There’s a quote I’ve heard, and have no idea where it came from: if a tree falls over in the forest, and no one is around to hear it, does it matter? I feel that it does matter!

I want to resist; I want this world to change! Listen to what Blackfire has to say.

The Sound of My Life

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My heart is humble in the face of endless landscapes and places where the modern world hasn’t invaded. Beautiful places are safe. I sometimes fear the world that we all live in. I fear those human beings that can crash airplanes into tall buildings killing thousands of people. At the same time, I fear leaders who use war and try to justify their killings. How can a war justify dead woman and children lying on the ground? Where does someone escape an ignorant worthless existence? Animals kill, but Animals never instituted a holocaust like humans are capable of doing. It’s very sickening, because I am human. I am held down and mocked by those who don’t want to understand. Humans are scary. But when out there on the wilderness, away from civilization, the wind howls all around me. It feels safe. There are many hidden places that the Unknown can still abide.

The oppression is overwhelming. Society is getting old in its worthless despair. Their existence is beginning to look like a grave. And from my perspective, it’s being done in the name of religion. One day, when everything deteriorates, people will be left with their survival. There will be no airplanes stealing the sky. Those gigantic cities will be dark at night, like ruins. It will be peaceful when real justice comes. The outcome is not known though. And I think Earth will do the cleaning.

Could I rip myself from the core of this existence? What could I do? Trying to exist in this world is always an uphill climb. But it is also impossible to understand what everything means? I’ve always possessed deep anger. It is difficult to interpret though, but it’s been very close to my heart. I’ve defended what I feel about truth.

My existence is unforeseeable, but my dreams are strong, and I am not afraid to talk. Nobody can regulate my behavior, or my spirit. Life is uncontrollable and so is my Expression. The clouds cannot be controlled, and they freely roam that deep blue sky, and my spirit wants the same. When I am on the mountain, I look down upon everything in an ageless forest; the flashlight then becomes my friend against the dark night of winter. The tower of stars can be heard singing, for the light found in this world, is the peace of such rest and stillness. The sun is shining in a quiet world.

While all of us are probably blind-folded, there are those that suffer in the heat of a miserable existence, and they want to grow strong. What has been stolen needs to find its place once again. There is strength everywhere, and it’s a power that is understandable. Because it simply enters my dreams and desires like a tornado, and it creates certain feelings. Any strong truth is awesome. Anything that we can relate with could be truth.

My brain is quite screwed-up. I’ve been a selfish person, and with that, I’ve become wasted space. But my convictions cannot be squashed. The landscape is older then us. It’s more alive then most people who take without giving. It’s older than those that destroy beauty to simply eradicate the meaning of everything. The land does not exist for economical purposes, or recreational purposes. It serves a definitive purpose, and I am tired of seeing it exploited. It belongs to certain nations that are understandable.

It makes my heart bitter to know that some people destroy places that are sacred to others. I am tired of hearing about every form of exploitation, and the mindless creeps that take the fat of everything beautiful. I am sick of hearing about the disease that wants to occupy everywhere and in between. It’s taking, and taking, but giving nothing back. It’s a thief. It’s an ignorance plagued with immense stupidity, because in its greatest intelligence, it will be forever blind. It is totally oblivious to truth and harmony.

In the summer, when I am on the desert listening the thunder gather, I can feel the heartbeat and wisdom that stirs. When I see an old man barely surviving, I think of his great strength, and how ignorant I am. When I see old people, or a little baby, I am reminded of beauty. When I see things that are beautiful, my heart rejoices that such things compose this world; for she is our awesome Earth Mother, whom we should have the greatest respect for.

The power of this world is mysterious. I have no definition for anything. It’s strange that one truth can contradict another. But everything is hard to understand, and my place is peaceful, and silent. The amazing thing is a four-thousand year old Bristlecone Pine Tree standing against the heavens, while its roots cling against solid stone with barely any moisture.

I guess when no one is around, you don’t have to argue or relate. But when you have relatives around, you should understand them, no matter how screwed up they might be. You’re screwed up too. And it is disturbing when I try to honestly think outside the box of paradigms that I carry so close. So I am always left with the conclusion that I know nothing at all. I can’t ever claim to know anything. And I cannot even begin to explain what I am trying to describe.

Getting off the soap-box now… 🙂

Unforgiven – The Way it Really was?

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After watching the western movie titled; Unforgiven, it reminded me of a trip my brother and I made out to Nevada, to a place called Pioche. During the late 1800’s, They say Pioche was one of the most ruthless towns in the West. It was a busy mining town and a war zone. If you visited, you ran the chance of being harassed or even killed. Murder wasn’t uncommon in Pioche, Nevada. It was also common in many other colonial frontier settlements at the time. In my opinion, this was the true history of America’s expansion into the West while drunk in corruption. The movie Unforgiven, will satisfy this assumption; It will testify about everything. There’s no Hollywood glamour, or fake stereotypes in this movie. You will see things up close and personal. You will see the disease that plagued the territory. This often must have been the true lifestyle during America’s westward expansion; or the prime of it’s Manifest Destiny.

This movie is directed by Clint Eastwood, and he’s also the main character. Unforgiven is highly disturbing, and hard to understand.

Click Here – for the movie at Amazon.

A Few Words…

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Today’s high temperature was 25 degrees. Tonight’s low will be 6 Degrees. My family left town yesterday for the weekend, and I decided to stay behind. So it’s just me and the dogs, and I took them west of Cedar on a hike. This town is right on the borderline of the Colorado Plateau, and there are mountains. So it seems like this place gets more snow than the desert. I journeyed out there today and there wasn’t much snow. But had an enjoyable time, and made it back safely.

The other day I almost got stranded. My vehicle is old and was having some problems, but I made it back okay. I was off in a canyon for about six hours doing some photography, and enjoying the silence. When I returned to go home, the car was totally dead! Several times I tried push starting it but nothing would happen. Just after dusk, a man stopped in a Chevy truck and was kind enough to jump start my car. I hadn’t seen anyone else all day. This location was about 20 miles from the main highway. So I was glad that I didn’t end up spending the night out there. LOL.

So I will end by saying Happy New Year!

The Earthquake in Iran

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After September 11th, the chaos was all over the news. The world was showing Americans support and sympathy for their loss and tragedy. I remember how big and tragic the event was. When you turned on the TV, almost every channel was covering the Events of 9/11. Now a huge earth quake slams Iran killing more then 20,000 people, but I hardly see any news on basic network television? Yet, when President Bush gives a “Live Speech” normal television programming is disturbed. Yesterday they had the usual garbage on TV, and nothing special dedicated to those who lost their lives in Iran. There was no sign of sympathy or grieving. What I see is nothing but hypocrisy. Maybe it’s just my perception, but that is how I feel.

Out There On the Desert

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I wrote this a few years ago, and was reading it tonight from a past journal. I am reposting it here to share. I hope that anyone who is feeling lonely tonight will read these words and feel comforted by deeper feelings. When I am sad, that is when I write my best thoughts and it’s when I dream my best dreams. Life is too short to take for granted. We all need beauty and love and we all need a friend that is willing to listen.

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Out There on the Desert

When I go into the desert on some remote highway, I am there by myself and surrounded by so much beauty. This is stolen land! Once people use to dwell here. but now they are somewhere else. They are no longer here.

This makes me real sad inside. As I am sitting on the edge of some cliff, I watch the sun go down and reflect its last light over the red sandstone and I can feel the old ways that were once here. The sun is something even more personal way out here! It has a spirit that talks to you!

Every day I am wondering what is going to happen to this little world. I go on these trips alone and the anger disappears. I only want what is peaceful. I always ponder about those old days that happened so long ago. it is the way it was.

It’s Halloween

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Winter is drawing nearer to the desert. Leaves have fallen from the trees. The mountains are no longer green. It’s time for a change in beauty, white snow covered valleys ready for silent dreams.

What a Day

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To My Dad in Salt Lake –

If your reading this; I just want you to know that I am grateful for everything you’ve done for Joe and me. You’ll always be my Number One Father! Nothing will transcend that either. Actions always speak louder then words!

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Journal Entry –

I nearly drowned in classes today. I’m taking a Middle Eastern Politics class, Sociology, and another class titled Social Problems. They all seem connected. More and more, the education is challenging my beliefs and opinions. Wow!! Three wake-up calls today on the path towards awareness. I want to weed out any terrible Prejudices that might still be lurking in me, and stab ’em all to death!

Life is good. People are beautiful. And Earth and Sky are all beautiful. My family and friends are beautiful, and I love them very much.

Tonight is a happy night; a good evening to say something positive. I received a lot of knowledge today, so perhaps this is the after-affect. It’s more like an afterglow.

Have you ever herd the quote; “Nothing is more wonderful then losing a closed-mind!” …Wow!

Hundred Miles of Dirt Road

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I have the day off. There’s twenty dollars in my wallet and a car waiting for the desert’s wiry dirt roads. The desert is calling. Mental images of the land are dancing in my head.

When we journeyed across Parowan Valley, past the alfalfa fields, and ranches; large numbers of ravens were everywhere. They were gathering in different locations. But they were bunched in large groups. Some looking like they numbered in the hundreds. What were they up to? Were they getting ready to travel somewhere? Even in the dead of winter, the ravens are always at home on the landscapes of Southern Utah.

The West Desert is sweating, even in the autumn’s heat. Something is calling me to venture into the Unknown. The simplicity and isolation sing to my senses. The simple silence speaks between Mother Earth and Sky. It’s the fact that I am alone, free to move, and free to be happy without restraint.

You never know what paths you may cross, nor lessons learned. Strange things manifest themselves where loneliness lurks. The desert is sentient and aware of my soul.

So today, that old car will travel a hundred miles of dusty roads, towards the heart of old ghost towns, sage, and thunderous dreams. Places that can only be found in mystery, where wild horses still roam the mountain ranges!

Pictographs Across Parowan Valley

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Here’s an update on the trip across Parowan Valley; Mr. Harris had to baby-sit his two grandchildren Friday morning, so he was unable to accompany us. However, he drew us a map on paper, so we could find the hidden pictograph site that we’ve been unsuccessful in trying to locate at least a few times already. It was three years since I had been to the site, and thought I knew where it was originally, but didn’t. Thanks to Mr. Harris, we were able to locate the rock paintings in a small alcove in one of the many finger canyons.

I didn’t take any pictures, but my brother Joe and I plan to head out this next Friday to photograph the panel. Hardly anybody knows the locality of this place, and it is a pretty remote area. Only a few know where it is, and they are won’t usually talk. It’s best kept a secret.

It took us about 45 minutes to find the canyon where they were located. It is a beautiful place with large rock ledges on each side, and huge boulders sticking out of the ground here and there, even right in the creek bed. It’s a dry place, with hardly any moisture, but there was some moss in the alcove where the pictographs are.

We stayed out there for about a half-hour, and rested. It was windy and had been cloudy that morning, but it became sunny before we left. It feels mysterious, especially when juniper trees creak like old, rusty door hinges every time wind rushes up the canyon.

The panel depicts what looks like a small human-like figurines, some with exaggerated features, and one of the images had horns. There’s a small depiction of two people holding hands, but I have no idea what any them might mean? This panel only contains 5-6 different images, and is relatively small. I have an idea that there might be other rock art panels in the area, but the hills across Parowan Valley are a sea-like maze of rocks. From Parowan, it looks like a small place. But when you?re in them, you can lose track!

When looking these sacred images, it brings gratitude. It creates a deep appreciation for the history. The fact blows me away, that between 500-1000 years ago, somebody painted them, and camped in this same area while migrating, or something. But these ancient writings tell a story or an instruction that I will never be able to comprehend. That?s the mystery. Although there are a few people who claim they can read such things, I will probably never understand.

Hiking Today

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I took my cousin, and brother hiking in some mountains across Parowan Valley today. They are located Northeast of Cedar roughly about 20 miles. We’ve made two attempts to locate a pictograph site that a kind fellow named Tom Harris, showed me about three years ago. It was like trying to find a lost gold mine. We found nothing, but our efforts weren’t fruitless. We got to see an awesome sunset, and everything was in a crimson glow. We didn’t get out of the canyon until after dark. The light of full-moon provided plenty, so we could locate the car. I take that old Honda Civic everywhere, including down 4 Wheel drive trails, and still is running like new. I paid 500 dollars for daisy, but she’s getting rusty and old; It’s only months now before she’ll retire.

I contacted Mr. Harris tonight. His health is not good, but he’s a happy person. He insisted on coming with my brother and me tomorrow, so that we can we can locate Pictograph site. I have my Nikon loaded with film, so I will take some photos and let you know how the trip goes.

From Summer to Autumn

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The Sunshine was cold this morning, and the grass was frosted. The sky was deep blue! The leaves are changing quickly. Yet, it is still September? I am not used to this early transition. It seems as though summer disappeared. The crickets are singing, but those evenings are numbered.

In recent years we’ve had very warm autumns and winters. The cold spell is hopefully short. When it passes, it will warm up. Not like summer though. This is the ON/OFF season when Thunderstorms seem to strengthen, especially at lower elevations. Its prime time for the Monsoon rains, but the last week we’ve had only blue sky and frosted mornings. It’s feels normal, which feels abnormal. I guess that’s Southern Utah in a five year drought.

Last October, 2003, Southern Utah witnessed some HUGE lightning storms. My cousin and I were photographing a petroglyph site near a small town called Ivins, near the Arizonan and Nevada borders. We watched the largest thunder and lightning display that I could remember in recent years. It came crashing down on us in a magnificent display. Every second a bolt was clapping. Although, I have a great fear of Lightning, I’ve always enjoyed the tension. I love the strength and power of gigantic thunderheads beating the landscape! The sky swelters in a dark blue haze. If you’re lucky, such a variety of clouds and sky can create gorgeous sunsets! In the Abstract sense, I feel that the colder air adds to the Beauty. During these mystical moments, Its always the last part of summer trying to hold on, but alas, the seasons are changing.

It will be time to pick Pine Nuts soon. The Pinion Trees of the Great Basin will be giving fruit. I’ll take the cousins to a place called Hamblin Valley which is about 80 miles west of Cedar City, UT. We’ll go fill the trunk of my Honda Civic with Pine Nuts!

This time of year is also great camping weather. The Rattle Snakes disappear. It’s no longer dangerous to hike into tight shady areas. You don’t have to worry about where you go, and you don’t have to think twice about where your going to set your foot. The snakes aren’t going to bother, because they’re sleeping.

Its autumn and time to put that good old summer behind. It’s time to welcome the new season with open arms. If it snows early, and winter comes in October, then so-be-it! If it warms back up again, let’s hope that the heat stays till January. It’s been known to happen. It sometimes rains in January, and snows in June. The weather is always strange on the West Desert. Not even the weatherman can predict the flash floods or the isolated storms, And Utah has been known to get a few RARE tornadoes!

This weekend, I’ll take my brother Joe, and my cousins camping and freeze beneath the desert stars. We will be surrounded by the safety of Juniper trees and a small camp fire. And my thoughts dwell on Mother Earth, she is always very beautiful, all the time!

9/11 and the War on Terror

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My Perspective – On September 11, 2001, I was in the Madeleine Cathedral in Salt Lake City. I was there touring the church and wondered why so many people were mourning that day. A Journalist had been taking candid shots of people who were there, and he stopped me on my way out of the church and asked me about my feelings on the disaster that had taken place. He told me the entire story, and everything related. It sounded like nonsense at first, until I was able to go over to my dad’s work just a few blocks away.

My parents have been divorced ever since I was little. My Father lives up in Salt Lake, and I was visiting my mother while she was working temporarily as a school teacher. My brother and her moved up there until January, before moving back to Southern Utah.

Up until the week after September 11, my head was screaming for a quiet place far away from the city. After going to my dad’s office and watching a replay of the 9/11 tragedy, I became withdrawn for a few weeks after. My Dad is Catholic, and I went to Mass with him back at the cathedral in honor of the victims that had passed away. Two days later, I attended a memorial that was hosted by the Mormon Church in Downtown Salt Lake about five blocks from the Cathedral.

While I was up there, the only person who really understood me was my Dad. My brother, him, and I went and spent some time at a place called Antelope Island out west of the city. It’s a landmass that extends out into the Great Salt Lake. The three of us hiked to the highest point of the island; Antelope Peak. The sky was blue, and the desert was hot. When we reached the summit, we paid our own personal tributes to the victims of Ground Zero. And all was quiet up there, with only the wind, rocks, and bushes.

So if you think I have forgotten September 11, I haven’t! I remember sitting in front of the TV screen for days watching the news. I watched those towers crumbling over and over. I remember seeing the big plume; or the relentless pot belly of smoke smoldering from the concrete ashes, the remains of the World Trade Center. The whole event was like a ghost, or like a manifestation eating me inside. Hearing about the number of people dying on that horrible day is something that I will never forget.

Yes, the victims of Sept. 11, 2001, were innocent. They didn’t deserve the peril that they faced. You hear about how people were jumping off the towers trying to escape, and falling to their deaths. When it comes to the perpetrators, I cannot even begin to comprehend what was going through the minds of the terrorists that caused 9/11. They thought that they were going to be martyrs; they thought they were going to heaven.

The hate that caused September 11 runs very deep. The hate that caused 9/11 is so strong; no human can comprehend the viciousness that caused this casualty. At least, that Is how I feel! What drives an Islamic Fundamentalist crazy enough to blow himself up, murdering dozens in the process? What has created this hate? What are its origins? What’s the root cause of the restless tension?

Despite the 9/11 tragedy, America is going through some strong awareness. We have all suffered from the major events of 9/11, each in our own private way. We know where to seek solace and peace. We each have our own Core, and our own Expression to deal with the tragedies facing this world.

Hearing the stories of September 11 from other people; especially those who were personally involved, is to relive the Event all over again. It sparks those same memories and feelings of despair that every person on Earth must have suffered in one way or another.

How can the hate in the world be defined? Does it carry a meaning? Every time I try to put my own definitions on world problems, those definitions fall apart. I try to gain my own understanding of world problems, but I don’t understand anything! Everything I try to define becomes, the idea becomes false. Then I am left with my own illusion of peace. I?m blindly seeking some kind of solitude within the wreckage of modern life. Why were we born into it? Where’s the truth?

An event that truly shocked me as much as 9/11, was the war against Iraq, and the continued occupation of Iraq by Americans. Those who watched/read Al Jazeera news or know the Arab side of the story can realize and maybe understand the tragedies taking place on both sides of the conflict. During the American invasion into Iraq, Al Jazeera published photos of the chaos and destruction; Children in hospitals covered in blood, wounded, dismembered, and alot of them dying. For a very important reason, I think Al Jazeera paid close attention to them. It created an anger inside. Another disheartening awareness was seeing the disturbing images of dead woman and children laying in the streets and cities in Iraq, and all the other graphic things that any person can barely look upon. America was busy (maybe in vengeance), dropping bombs on Baghdad, and everywhere in between.

What is the goal of bombs? They are used to KILL, and DESTROY! What’s the purpose of tanks rolling across the deserts of a sovereign nation? What was the purpose for US soldiers to crawl right into the heart of Ancient Babylon? Were they liberating, or were they invading? The last person who wants war is the Soldier, correct? No war is just, unless your truly defending your family. What is the true motives of America? Especially if the IRAQI WAR in not linked to the WAR ON TERROR? Or should I say rich, and wealthy Amerikkka? Is the American occupation any better than Saddam Hussein and the Baath Party? Where’s the Weapons of Mass Destruction? Did President Bush abuse his power and cheapen the events of September 11? (Check out this article by Ted Rall) Hell, what is the War on Terror all about? Any opinion can be proven wrong, but maybe the WAR ON TERROR is to scare Americans into submission. Especially with the Star Trek styled Terror Alert System! Simply pick the color, and you have Americans bending over at will!

Where’s the root of hate? Where’s the heart of the problem? Could it be now in 2003, the US Government abuses the memory of 9/11 to fulfill its greedy goals and desires? Maybe it’s the Oil? Or, are the Americans capable of being desensitized? Why was the Arab television station; Al jazeera showing all those horrible images? – I think they were trying to give to truth! Why did Al Jazeera create an “English” version of their website? If it was for people like me to know THEIR SIDE of the story, then they haven’t done it in vein.

I have come to the Awareness, that there are FAR MORE similarities than differences on both sides of the conflict. We are all human beings capable of fear, happiness, love, hate, destruction, beauty, despair, sadness, hope, and harmony, ect. Eventually we all die! The hate might never disappear. But violence, war, and destruction will always multiply the hatred. You can’t put a stop to Destruction using Destruction. It seems like a contradiction! Where’s the future?

This whole view is fluctuating, and what I say is based on what I know at this moment. It’s nothing more and nothing less. I can’t claim to know anything, because I’m a sheltered guy living in Southern Utah.

First Day of Classes

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Every time I return back to classes and college studies, I get this weird restless feeling inside. Kind of like I don’t want to be here, but I am sticking it out. If I had my way, I’d be traveling the Southwest, and doing my photography. I wouldn’t be stuck to this tiny campus, nor this town and its boundaries. There’s no soul in all of this. But like usual, I’ll keep on going.

It feels like everybody wants me to conform in certain ways, and the pressure is pushing from all directions. It never stops. Wanting to break free is constantly on my mind, but to hang in there is also important.

Then there’s the addiction to the technology, and the candy covered luxuries of civilization and easy living. All of this binds the Human Spirit. It’s creating a feeling of helplessness, and weakness. It’s a feeling of being caged in, and starved.

These are my thoughts and feelings for the moment. The more I dwell on them, the worse it gets.

Summer’s Ending

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I took my grandparents on a little outing today in the van. They’re truck has been broke down for about a month. My brother and our cousin have been trying to get my grandpa’s truck running, so he can keep the business running. Things have been tight lately.

Today we went on a 234 mile round trip, and spent the whole time finishing a few chores, and enjoying the journey. We drove across the Arizona Strip on the way back home. Gigantic desert clouds blanketed the desert sky as far as the eye could see, and cloud shadows dotted the golden landscape.

What a beautiful world, a quiet world. I forget the simple things at times. Visiting with my grandparents like I did today, is a rare experience. The mood was beautiful.

It’s sad that Summer is almost over.

Camping Alone and Taking Risks

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It’s true freedom when you go into the mountains all alone, and spend the night by yourself far away from any road or trail. We have some mountains behind our ranch here in Southern Utah and they are pretty isolated. I was in my late teen years, when I would often venture into them on a regular basis during the summer. I dodged a few rattlesnakes. My stupidity, and hunger for fear clouded my judgment at times. Always, I’ve had my eye on the unknown, hidden things lurking in those mountains. The Blue Sky against Mother Earth, and the smell of wet sage after a rainfall still brings strong feelings.

A canyon behind our rock yard that people call Braffits Creek, and is a very deep and untouched canyon full of rigid cliffs and a deafening silence. Only the small creek is heard and an occasional breeze disturbs the Quietness.

So I wander? What would happen if you persuaded one of those city people to spend the night alone in a forest of old Juniper trees? How would they handle it?

Every time I go camping in remote areas, I get an awkward lonely feeling, especially when I take risks. What happens if I fell, or broke a leg, and starved? A multitude of thoughts pass through your imagination. What happens of you died, and no one ever found your bones? That’s a thought coming from a country boy.

Coming back From Salt Lake

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On my way back home from a trip to Salt Lake City, I watched the sun drop in the west. Its rays illuminated a mass of rain clouds above some mountains along I-15. They glittered in colors of red, purple, and maroon. As I watched that grand closing, I felt so grateful for life.

An eagle silhouetted in black by the setting sun was sailing on the winds of bad weather. He was soaring below great thunderheads, and lightning was flashing everywhere. He was a small creature compared to the enormous expanse desert. Without his presence though, everything would have felt empty! The way this eagle weaved back and forth on the wind added a surreal feeling to the moment; a warrior and hunter; a beautiful king living on the freedom from his heart!

A photograph explains a thousand words, but the Earth talks in a spiritual wordless language that can pierce the heart, the intellect, and the soul of every human being. The Eagle was crying in a vision.

When a moment of beauty exposes itself to you, do not take it for granted. Don’t be distracted by your own life, or by the civilization that you live in. What you value now may not exist in the near future. Material things do not amount to much, but truth matters!

I think the Eagle was crying, or manifesting its struggle to keep going, despite the encroachment of darkness into his realm. As long as the sun keeps on burning, the warrior keeps on sailing.

None of us understand the dreams deep within. But every Human Being has his/hers struggles, and we all carry a confusion that won’t ever be solved. My personal opinion is that when you die, you might have a shred of truth, you might have been successful in scratching the surface the unknown. But even after death, you will keep on learning for the rest of eternity. Just like the never-ending universe, everything is infinite. Everything has endless meaning. Freedom is in the blood, freedom is in the struggle. The more trials that you face, the more you have to endure. You have to be grateful for everything bad and good.

I was taught as a child that the path of life was never meant to be easy, but it is definitely worth each step. Endure to the end! Maybe that is ONE teaching out of infinity.

And so this is another dramatic, but consistent entry into the West Desert Journal. But it’s how I feel at the moment. Goodnight.

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