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!

Somewhere in the day to day continuity, you wish for some kind of escape from reality. Vanity rules our minds because we are emotional creatures. There is no logic concerning human behavior. Beyond all the static, our most basic desires are not always realized. Could it be we don’t always venture beyond where we feel comfortable?

In the maze, there is a way past all the dead-ends. There is always a way from start to finish. The clues are there to build endurance. Being aware of the possibilities requires being calm and having faith. Life is about those unexpected events that bring you closer to your objective or push you away. Be ready for all kinds of setbacks. There are many stumbling blocks that will hinder your journey.

It’s all about finding a way, with a will-power that is in your heart. It’s in the motivation and ambition that you invest. The current that can drown you is strong and this is where you have to succeed or fail. It is up to only you to find a way, if you choose to survive. What I am saying is, life is beautiful but never easy. This is reality. If you want to survive, there is no room for self-pity. Survival is rooted in a person being happy and content in their own lives without having to rely on others for that joy. That’s the secret.

The objective is to live strong and find that personal sovereignty in a world of greed and materialism. God has designed natural mechanisms in every human being to build success. We are hard-wired to be tough, to survive, and outlast every storm. Every worthy pursuit requires serious courage and risk. Disappointment has to be accepted as commonplace.

There is only one way to success, it’s in you! You have to be the persistent dreamer. You have to know what to do and what you want. Your heart has to be tough during hard times. The choices you make in this regard will determine your outcome.

While introspecting I had to record a few thoughts because I don’t really have a journal anywhere. So maybe it’s good to write it here on a blog. At least a few ideas emerge, maybe? If someone is reading this and benefits, then I am glad. If you wish to add your thoughts, please do so!

I think the quality of life in more important than the length of life. Please folks, recognize the beauty that is right in front of you!

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.

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.

“I have always been unsatisfied with life as most people live it. Always I want to live more intensely and richly. why muck and conceal one’s true longings and loves, when by speaking of them one might find someone to understand them, and by acting on them one might discover oneself?” — Everett Ruess

The wind still whispers the ancient past as it travels through pinion. I hear them passing through here as if it were the present. They come out of the trees like lone drifting cloud shadows. They bring with them the stories!

Images dance. From out of the past, they come. Even with uncertain modern times, they dance. A great change is coming. Just around the bend, it’s on the verge of waking. The world is about to change forever. Brace yourselves. Think of the peaceful rain, rolling thunder; what happened long ago. These old ways are not forgotten.

And this is what is called mystery. Listen.

Can you hear it? Coming?

In winter, the wind whistles
over the dark Uintahs
through steep strange canyons
of sandstone and shadow.

The beauty of that country is composed of
lost gold mines, dinosaur graves
and chocked oil deposits -

a wild territory haunted
by coyotes, cowboys, ramblers ‘n such
even the ghosts of
departed prospectors.

as the sun sets
in the freeze of winter
you can feel the hint
of a deep conundrum
plaguing the
land of the Utes.

in quiet discontent
an independent Woman known
as Coyote Kate wonders
the streets of Vernal,
a town of oil drillers
river runners ‘n more.

there is something unusual to Her
silence that causes Me to conspire
as She moves about.

far away to the south
She rides the quiet canyons
and labyrinths of a dream.

I used to engage every adventure
into the forested hills.
I would follow the shimmering light
that appeared in the distance.
yet, I never felt fully content

until She crossed My mind.

A couple of years ago I was giving a Hummer tour in the Grand Canyon with a bunch of Back Easterners. It was mid-July and about 110 degrees Fahrenheit, outside. We pulled off the rocky road road to take a short break and stretch. The road winds it’s way down into the inner gorge of the canyon via Whitemore Wash to river mile marker 187 on the Colorado River. It is one of only two access points that can get you that close to the river in a 4×4. During the break we walked over to a cluster of Barrel Cactus and I began some interpretation on the flora of Grand Canyon when all a sudden we heard the doors lock automatically on the Hummer. Silence fell over the group. It didn’t take long to realize that the keys were still in the ignition and all the windows were rolled up.

For the next 45 minutes we debated and conspired in the shade of the Hummer, trying to figure out what to do? We were 6 miles from the lodge which would require hiking all the way up out of Whitmore Wash and out of the canyon. Nobody had water. That wasn’t even a choice for various reasons. Finally we grabbed a sharp basketball sized piece of basalt and proceeded to knock out the back window of the vehicle, then continued the tour. That was a teachable moment. What did I learn? I learned to always keep the windows cracked on a vehicle that has automatic locks!

The other teachable moment hit me later up at the lodge. My boss had me fill out an incident report and he called in for a price quote on a window replacement. I was surprised to learn the repair would cost around 800 dollars. Had I knocked out the windshield, it would have been around 200 dollars. The the next six months I was the butt of quite a few jokes.

All of this was on my mind today. Little moments like these educate you. The mistakes you make are teachable moments. They are experiences that create an impact that are still recalled years down the road.

by Nathan Cowlishaw

The snow covers the land in a thick white blanket with sunshine sparkling all over the mountains and trees. The sky is hard turquoise with soft clouds traveling over the new winter-land. For three days it snowed continuously. It reminds me of the deep heart of Navajoland near the Four-Corners, Arizona. This is the Escalante Desert around Cedar City, Utah, which is usually brown and thirsty. This past summer monsoon storms were disappointingly scarce compared to what I remember as a child when rain would turn streets into rivers around town.

I miss those times traveling around the Navajo Reservation in the dead of winter back when I was a tour guide. Driving across a white snow packed Monument Valley was sheer beauty and stark winter clouds cloaking mesas and red sandstone buttes. That was quiet heaven on Mother Earth. I miss the orange crimson sunsets flooding the snow-decked plateaus chocked with Juniper and Pinion. As I was traveling, my mind would drift in and out of reality because the beauty would carry me far away. It would take me to another time in the past when things were sacred and simple. It was a place free from pop-culture nonsense and mindless vanity to a real heartfelt existence of solitude and hardship. There was a time when struggling was the main line of work and labor and you really had to tow the line to survive but you could listen to the storytellers instead of televisions and radios.

Winter is a harsh season but well worth the endurance. I love it in the Colorado Plateau and Great Basin. Tonight, I am dreaming of the supernatural. Something roams those white hills in the night. I am writing this as long after that turquoise sky turned to night. It is starting to snow this evening and people travel through it on interstates, being careful not slide or wreck. We need the moisture very bad so it is the perfect trade-off. It is the time to thoroughly enjoy Cabin Fever, be with loved ones and dwell in the past.

I wish there was someone around tonight to tell my stories to. There’s no one around to share my tales of the past, of what happened so long ago. If you are patient with me, I have many many stories. A lot of them are not written. My stories are for skeptics and nonbelievers and they are unreal to believers. When I get old, my grandchildren will have the opportunity to hear the stories and I will hope they will pass them on down. My life is short but I am determined to make the most of it. The Creator has blessed me tremendously.

Thankyou, Heavenly Father, for the beauty in this world and for allowing me to see it and realize!

The Dream of Reality

Basically
you are a dreamer
and I am a realist.

A dreamer is like the sky, intangible
where a realist is like the earth, tangible.

That doesn’t matter
as long as they both have a vision

When they possess that vision
it would make sense
that the earth and sky
are actually made for each other.

They do become one
where they meet.

And when they are one
they sustain everything.

by Nathan Cowlishaw
& Angela Perry

The heart knows not reason just what it feels. It isn’t any more complex then a child that likes to play in all their innocence. So because the heart is like a little child it doesn’t always know better and it makes so many mistakes. Perhaps that is why logic is there to keep it in check so it doesn’t run too wild. My heart knows love and can hardly be contained. It leads me into a lot of pain on occasion. I’m learning to keep it in check but I also listen to it more then anything else.

I’m kind of a rebel when listening to my logic because most my dreams come from the heart and it has never led me astray. Yes, I know pain and affliction but I also know the greatest forms of happiness and joy because I have always listened to the heart. Whether it’s hearing the spirit of the wild or the mysterious soul of a woman, I always listen.

Even when I feel pain, the heart inspires me to write and formulate words properly so that you can read what I am feeling. The love of life keeps me going strong and gets me through the hardest times. The relationship I have with my heart is the truest form of love. My spirit is strong and compassionate because of what my heart has done. I thank the Great Master for giving me such a gifted heart.

Away from darkness a dreamer’s journey begins towards incredible healing. His vision conjures up images from the bottoms of waking hours. Those spent thoughts were turning up nothing. The imagination was sad because it did it all in vein and trial.

Yet, here he wanders beneath the shield of sky, crossing the beautiful Desert that flows through him like a river. Out there is where all of the hidden wounds have been sewn. When young, he knew not his fear. Now he knows.

This is my own walk on the Red Road across a cheerful landscape, a vista of quality and color. The bad things in my life are forgotten. They matter not. They are just small thoughts easily cast from the mind. In peace, I shout it all out until I feel unworldly silence.

A bush, a stone, the sound of crickets, a river in the mountains; all of it is beauty. The meadowlark hides in the sunflowers sounding it’s incredible whistles. The desert heals my worn-out soul and renews the spirit. The deepness thereof is possessive and I am a castaway. As far as I am concerned the raft may carry me forever.

Supernatural clouds sail along the bronze horizon and I hear the beating heart of our Mother Earth. I am grateful for all of creation. The ageless wind stirs the forces of life and I am in the corners of God’s imagination. Free of any pain I may have suffered.

My love is the wilderness and those that destroy beauty are my enemies. I am personally sovereign and free.

That old familiar wanderlust is coming back and I am once again listening to the wind. Talk about footloose! Why is it happening? It’s like Jack London’s Call of the Wild. I am fighting a strong temptation to flee and travel into desolation, isolation and utter solitude. One day I may tempt fate and head into the unknown… I’m listening to the chaotic-symphonic chorus of crickets outside my backyard door with two blue heelers sleeping in the tall grass. Their feet twitch in miniature spasms as if they are sprinting in their dog-dreams. Animals do have visions.

Much time has passed and it will continue. With each passing day I get older and hopefully wiser. When will my restless heart tire and my wild passions break? Yes, I am a crazy dreamer disconnected from everyone. It really seems that I live in dreams. It’s hard for me to understand anything else other than howling winds rushing through pines.

Please… if you are reading this. Come and talk to me and tell me how you feel? Try to help me find affinity and relatedness with you so that we can both understand our humanity; so we can communicate intelligibly because we are surrounded by a chaotic-psychotic world of greed. Come and lets find harmony in the simple. It would be so nice to connect with other dreamers. Are you one of them? If you are, how far have you traveled to my little abode? Because I have been traveling far and wide. As it has been said before; the more I learn the less I know.

I have in my possession an incredible beauty that can never be put down. When I discovered it, it became apart of me. It is what I am. I defend it with all my heart!

Classes began this week and I am going full-time – eighteen credits. I borrowed the maximum amount on my student loan and purchased a Macbook and some photo editing software. Two of my classes are in photography and I’m seeing these big purchases as worthy investments to develop my talents. There is a strong need for me to produce more content but I need some industry-standard tools to do so.

Stay tuned! I’m going to write many thoughts in this journal…

Last night I went hiking down in the Narrows. There were no clouds in the sky. I returned to Cedar City around 7 P.M. and spent that evening reading Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey.

Sometime in the wee-hours of morning I had a strong dream about the entire Grand Canyon getting inundated with water ripping down every gorge and side canyon. Imagine the destruction to Hoover Dam? At the Bar 10 lodge where I used to work on the North Rim, I dreamed the employees had gone crazy and were gambling and playing poker. When I awakened images of what happened in Havasupai last weekend came back to me. I could hear the roaring overflow, snapping wood and boulders. Oh, how I miss Havasupai though with the hiking trail that meanders from the campground onto Mooney Falls and down to Beaver Falls, ending at the Rio Colorado. What a spectacular thing it is to day-dream of Havasupai!

Next week I head to Canyon Lands and Horseshoe Canyon. I’ve invited some people to join me on that excursion but doubt anybody is going along. Surviving Havasupai helped me discover my humanity and the big realm of possibilities. My heart is not going to be bludgeoned by the suit and tie world because I am forever individualistic. Life is a short-lived paradise and my intention is to take advantage of every quick moment. The sheer ruggedness of Canyon Country awaits my return and I will seize every opportunity to be in the wild.

It is nice to have friends along though because you develop a camaraderie that goes totally unrivaled in the materialistic world. Friends become buddies and memories are created that never fade!

It was a beautiful and pristine weekend on the Havasupai Reservation in Grand Canyon. Late on a Thursday night we hiked eight miles into the Grand Canyon to Supai Village and arrived at the tourist office shortly before day-break. After we paid our dues we headed straight for Supai campground two miles away to set up camp for the weekend. That very same day, I wanted to head back into the village while others went swimming in the falls. That afternoon I visited with various Supai villagers and engaged in small talk. This was my first time to Havasupai and it turned out to be a life-changing experience.

Friday and Saturday I spent hiking with my buddies Robert and Joe. Saturday I wanted to hike 7-8 miles down to the Colorado River from the campground but couldn’t get anyone in our group to accompany me that far so I settled for Beaver falls about three miles down from Mooney Falls. My first impression of the waterfalls in Havasupai was the sheer beauty of the turquoise green waters going through the canyon and the travertine formations that sculpted each spectacular waterfall. It was utterly amazing, it was almost like the first time I set eyes on the Grand Canyon when I was eight years-old. All my life I’ve seen various waterfalls around the Southwest, up in Utah and nothing was on par with Havasupai. Every outdoorsman should go to Havasupai at least once in their lifetime!

Late Saturday night as we were hiking up from Mooney Falls and were told to evacuate the area around Mooney because there was a flash flood warning in effect until ten o’clock. Joe and Robert headed back to camp and I hung around Mooney Falls to shoot a few more images as the waterfall began turning reddish brown. In camp everything was calm that night and we enjoyed an evening with only mild rain.

Around midnight early Sunday, I woke up to people screaming and a man shaking my tent alerting me of the massive flood. As I emerged from my tent I saw the ravine next to the tent filling with a raging torrent. The evening before it was bone dry. Boulders rolled through it with ease being pushed along with sticks and driftwood. On the other side was Havasu creek. It was completely overwhelmed looking more like a muddy Colorado River. All kinds of debris went rushing by including an outhouse, tents, water toys, cottonwood trees and boulders. The floodwaters completely surrounded the high ground that stranded our group of twelve people. There were others; a scout troop with six boys and one other couple with their friend. It became a long night as we all waited for morning to swing around. The water kept rising until 4 A.M. and then slowed down. We made a camp fire and everyone huddled around waiting for morning.

There was a lot of confusion, panic and uncertainty even in the morning when rescuers hadn’t arrived. It wasn’t until around 9 A.M. that four Havasupai men came to our rescue. By this time we saw a couple of private helicopters arriving on the scene. One of them dropped an old rope on our island. The Havasupai men helped us construct a line across the floodwater about 40 feet long but no-one wanted to cross because of the strong flood current. The first to traverse the line was a guy named Jerry and he barely made it. The rest of us would follow after being warned that another wave of flood water was just minutes away from slamming us. One of the Havasupai men said we had three choices; we could cross the line, climb a tree, or drown in the flood! My buddies ran up some trees but I couldn’t get into a tree and that’s when my survival instinct kicked in. I ran towards the ropes with a pack on. The only thing I was carrying was my flute, my camera, a blanket my mother made me when I was a child, and my 150 dollar cowboy boots. Everything else was lost to the flood. I zipped across the rope line. It was easier than I had expected though I did slip but was able to pull myself to safety with the help and encouragement of the Havasupai men. Two more people had crossed before me and everyone else followed across the line except Joe and Robert, my friends from Parowan, Utah. They were still up in trees on the island!

The water was beginning to rise and that’s when I began to snap a little. I felt guilty for crossing the line and having my friends still on the other side. It was tear-jerking! It was hard dealing with the uncertainty as to whether they could make it out or not and I couldn’t bear the thought of them dying in the the flood. The others in our group were from Vegas and when they saw me, they began shouting in unison for Robert and Joe to come across the line. Not long afterwards they arrived and both crossed to safety. The scouts were still on the island as well but there was an old Havasupai man that was able to find an access route to the island on foot and they were able to bring the scouts across quickly and safely before the next surge of floodwater hit. Everyone on the island made it out alive. I was so overjoyed that my friends made it across safely. We all made it higher ground. We followed the four Havasupai up some steep inclines and a hidden trail that lead back to the village two miles away. By the time we arrived in the village there was FEMA warnings posted on the trees letting everybody know that an earthen dam up the river had failed. We were airlifted in Blackhawk helicopters out of the Canyon.

Almost two days have passed since we left Havasupai behind and already I’m missing the beauty, solitude, and tranquility of the water falls. Late last night I dreamed about them. The campground is only thing that really sustains the Havasupai people. Without the tourism they would have a very hard time indeed. Our group is forever indebted to the four Havasupai men that risked their lives to save ours. I may not be writing this if it hadn’t been for them.

I’ve seen the best and the worst of Grand Canyon. While we were all on that island death was a constant reminder that life is short. Looking into that floodwater all night really forced me to introspect carefully about my life. Now I want to experience all that my life has to offer. The blood that runs in my veins is that of a pure desert rat and I’m grateful for this experience and having survived. I hope everyday becomes an adventure or misadventure!

Click Here – For photos of the flood!

Correction made to this post – Only twelve people in our group became stranded on the island. Seven others left earlier before the flood hit.