A beautiful mitten!
Monument Valley Tribal Park
A Navajo man poses for a picture.
When you are here, you have to stay
on the path. Monument Valley located in South Eastern, UT, may
seem very commercialized, but to me it is very sacred. If you come
here, you must be in the right frame of mind. It is really crowded
with tourists, and if you come in the winter months you will find
it a desert solitaire. This place will truly put you between
Father Sky and the Earth Mother!
Have you been inspired by the real
truth. I have found silence. The rest of the world falls apart and
I know the high and quiet places. I do not expect any person to
understand me, only I know who I am. God is the only other on who
knows who I am and that is all that matters. This planet is my
Mother, and her landscapes have taken care of all my needs. She
has turned me into a dreamer and wanderer!
Everything that I am about, has to
do with the land.
I can see beauty everywhere I go. I
am grateful for the creations that surround me. When I am out on
the desert and thunderclouds roll in covering up and the blue sky,
the desert turns blue. Lightning strikes the land that is darkest
beneath the clouds and the thunder rolls off into the distance.
These sandstone mittens stand frozen in time, waiting for a new
era of change to happen. On the desert nothing is still.
Everything is in motion. The clouds, the trees, the desert
grasses, all move with the wind. Inside me, I feel my own
connection to want to sleep with these eternities. I am yearning
for my home among this laughter and happiness. I can only dream of
such a time with which my soul will hopefully find some day.
I have an ageless belief inside. I find myself
serious when I want to speak with all of the unknown. There is
nothing that is strange about this. I find myself wandering in the
corners of God's own imagination. All of creation is the alter of
this sacred love I have.
I have talked to ancient trees that are thousands
of years old, and they listen to me when no other thing will. They
stand on the edge of time, and on the edge of heaven. They listen
to me. That is the way the desert is too. The desert owns me, and
I own it. This is my country to die in some day. At night I am in
visions with the oldest stories that once were real. At night when
I am awake I see into the stairways of endless stars. When the
dawn breaks, I am there on my feet to watch it grow.
This rock is called El Capitan.
Some Navajo say it is a prayer sender.
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All pictures on page by Nathan Cowlishaw
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