The Power of the Desert

There is this strange, rather surreal feeling I get when I think of returning to the southwest that I can't really explain. It's as if the power and mysticism of the desert scares me a little bit, perhaps because I came of age there. I know it is no longer the place of my youth since so much has changed, yet when I return, I feel haunted by a feeling it will never let me go.

Few people who were raised in other climates can appreciate what a childhood in the arid expanse of West Texas instills in you. I have a great respect for the power of the sun, the sacredness of water, and the holiness of the sand. And 40 years ago, it was still a lazy and innocent place.


I was in Tuscon a few months ago, on the very outskirts of the city where the small enclaves of homes abut the mountain side. I went for a walk alone and got lost. In many ways, I was lost in the desert a lot of my youth as well. But it was scary beautiful and mighty.