West Desert Journal

 I found this red story with a voice,
that was full of instructions,
given to me by the forest walker.

It is where I bathed in strange
conversations with the tree man.
His mind made of wood, his heart,
full of the place around him.

The forest depths are like his purity.
But I feel his restlessness.
I am headed for his power.
In the darkness my headlights go out.

It is the cabin in the wilderness, I find him.
By a lake where the big beast lives.
Where monsters walk on two legs.
Where the clouds and wind never stop.

The journey down the empty highway,
is the burden I love to carry.

Through this sea of desert, I swim.
Why do I search out the old way?

It so skillfully, and artistically
studies me, and tests me.
It is a warm feeling inside,
when the noon drips off the trees,
while the Sun glistens in the summer,
While I sit there, he comes to me.
He pops out of the bush as a coyote.
He sits on his tail and looks into me.
His ears pointed forward, he sniffs the air.

The old man hides in those eyes,
the ground around him, dark like ravens,
is his throne! The sky palace above glistens too.
Smells of sage and rain linger.

I will not hide.
I will not run.
The shadows creep up from this Earth.
They have no sources. They whisper
and talk. They bring the message.
It is the way he teaches.

The light is somewhere down below,
in the soil, under the roots of
those trees.

In the Forest this dream maker hides,
His tricks are not meant to hurt.
He walks like an old fellow in pain,
yet in the end he turns into A tree.

Out there in the wilderness, where the Blue Sky People wonder, walk, and sleep;
is where the old eternal hills rest. The cold winter passes, and in the summer,
noon drips off ancient trees. Junipers, and pinions cover the Plateaus.
Brush poppers hide, such as the rabbit, the coyote, and the deer.
Eagles and Ravens share the blue palace….

I am lonely sometimes in the way that I feel about life. Hardly any one I know agrees with me. I feel sad because I find a beauty that I can never put down. I carry it in my heart. My spirit can not be broken because I have found my place in life. I cannot go back to my past. My future will be radical. I have found my song. It is in my soul that I can stir up the old way.

All over that country I drive that junker wherever it will allow me to go. Out to places without any incredible features, to places that are starving without the green beauty. Areas that are flat and deadlike, and have their own loneliness. Out there in the desert the dreams, and ghosts pass by bottomless mountain ranges under blue sky. The Creator created this place for me to love. I love traveling a highway for 100 miles without services. In three days I might only see one other car or truck.

The power of the sky and the desert, I cannot get it out of my mind. I stand up in the wild and feel the old way still alive. At night when I sleep close to the Earth’s power, I know that every thing will be all right in the end. I can’t forget what I have found and learned about the old way. I will always remember to know that I will always have my place in this universe and that I will always exist, some place, some day, forever.

Places of silence, is where I can find the great mystery. He knows me and I talk to him. I know that something listens to me out there in the void. What I send out comes back to me ten times over. I have said it all!

In the night, the smell of smoke from some old fire reminds me of forgotten traditions. The sky is filled with candled stars that make the desert glow. What is it that makes the fire of silence burn so hot? My spirit will not stay shut up. I will find the ways of truth. The sky and earth is where I search.